The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  Here he paused to consider what course he should pursue. The point upon which he stood commanded a magnificent view on every side of the ramparts and towers of the fortress. Immediately before him was the Wardrobe Tower — now removed, but then connected by an irregular pile of buildings with the Broad-Arrow Tower — while beyond it frowned the gray walls of the White Tower.

  On the left was the large court where the masque had been given by the Earl of Devonshire, at which he had played so distinguished a part, surrounded on the west and the south by the walls of the palace. On the right the view comprehended the chain of fortifications as far as the Flint Tower, with the range of store-houses and other buildings in front of them. At the back ran the outer line of ramparts, leading northward to the large circular bastion still existing, and known as the Brass Mount; and southward to the structure denominated the Tower leading to the Iron Gate, and now termed the Devil’s Battery. Farther on, was to be seen London Bridge with its pile of houses, and the tower of St. Saviour’s Church formed a prominent object in the picture.

  But Xit’s attention was not attracted to the view. He only thought how he could make good his escape, and where he could hide himself in case of pursuit. After debating with himself for some time, he determined to descend to the lowest chamber of the fortification on which he stood, and see whether it had any communication with the subterranean passages of which he possessed the keys.

  Accordingly, he retraced the steps he had just mounted, and continued to descend till he reached an arched door. Unlocking it with one of the keys from his bunch, he entered a dark passage, along which he proceeded at a swift pace. His course was speedily checked by another door, but succeeding in unfastening it, he ran on as fast as his legs could carry him, till he tumbled headlong down a steep flight of steps. Picking himself up he proceeded more cautiously, and arrived after some time, without further obstacle, at a lofty, and as he judged from the sound, vaulted chamber.

  To his great dismay, though he searched carefully round it he could find no exit from this chamber, and he was about to retrace his course, when he discovered a short ladder laid against the side of the wall. It immediately occurred to him that this might be used as a communication with some secret door, and rearing it against the wall, he mounted, and feeling about, to his great joy encountered a bolt.

  Drawing it aside, a stone door slowly revolved on its hinges, and disclosed a small cell in which a female was seated before a table with a lamp burning upon it. She raised her head at the sound, and revealed the features of Cicely.

  Xit uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and rushing towards her, expressed his joy at seeing her. Cicely was equally delighted at the sight of the dwarf, and explained to him that she had been thus long forcibly detained a prisoner by Nightgall.

  “Your captivity is at an end,” said Xit, as her relation was concluded. “I am come to deliver you, and restore you to your lover. I am afraid he won’t think your beauty improved — but I am sure he won’t like you the worse for that. Come along. Lean on me. I will support you.”

  They were just emerging from the cell, when hasty footsteps were heard approaching, and a man entered the vaulted chamber bearing a torch. It was Nightgall. His looks were wild and furious, and on seeing the dwarf and his companion, he uttered an exclamation of rage, and hurried towards them. Cicely ran screaming to the cell, while Xit, brandishing Nightgall’s own poniard, threatened to stab him if he dared to mount the ladder.

  CHAPTER XXV.

  OF THE ARRIVAL OF THE IMPERIAL AMBASSADORS; AND OF THE SIGNING OF THE MARRIAGE-TREATY BETWEEN MARY AND PHILIP OF SPAIN.

  ON the 2d of January 1554, a solemn embassy from the Emperor Charles the Fifth, consisting of four of his most distinguished nobles, the Count d’Egmont, the Count Lalaing, the Seigneur de Courrieres, and the Sieur de Nigry, chancellor of the order of the Toison d’Or, arrived in London to sign the marriage-treaty between Philip and Mary which had been previously agreed upon by the courts of England and Spain.

  Gardiner, who, as long as he found it possible to do so, had strenuously opposed the match, and had recommended Mary to unite herself to Courtenay, or at least to some English nobleman, finding her resolutely bent upon it, consented to negotiate the terms of marriage with Renard, and took especial care that they were favorable to his royal mistress.

  They were as follows: The Queen was to have for her jointure thirty thousand ducats a year, with all the Low Countries of Flanders, — her issue was to be heir as well to the kingdom of Spain as to the Low Countries, — her government was to continue in all things as before, — and no stranger was to be member of the Council, nor have custody of any forts or castles, nor bear any rule or office in the Queen’s household, or elsewhere in all England.

  To these terms Renard, on behalf of his sovereign, readily assented, and the subject was brought before the Parliament, where it met with violent opposition from all parties. In spite of this Mary asserted her privilege to wed whom she pleased, and after a long and stormy discussion the measure, chiefly through the management of Arundel, Paget, and Rochester, was carried.

  During the agitation of the question, Mary deemed it prudent to feign indisposition to avoid receiving an address intended to be presented to her from the Commons imploring her to marry one of her own countrymen. But when at length she could no longer decline giving them an audience, she dismissed them with these words:

  “I hold my crown from God, and I beseech Him to enlighten me as to the conduct I ought to pursue in a matter so important as my marriage. I have not yet determined to wed, but since you say in your address that it is for the welfare of the state that I should choose a husband, I will think of it — nothing doubting I shall make a choice as advantageous as any you may propose to me, having as strong an interest in the matter as yourselves.

  While this was going forward, De Noailles and his party had not been idle. Many schemes were devised, but some were abandoned from the irresolution and vacillation of Courtenay; others were discovered and thwarted by Renard. Still, the chief conspirators, though suspected, escaped detection, or rather their designs could not be brought home to them, and they continued to form their plans as the danger grew more imminent with greater zeal than ever.

  At one time, it was determined to murder Arundel, Paget, Rochester, and the chief supporters of the Spanish match, to seize the person of the Queen and compel her to marry Courtenay, or depose her and place Elizabeth on the throne. This plan not suiting the views of Lord Guilford Dudley and Suffolk, was opposed by them; and owing to the conflicting interests of the different parties, that unity of purpose indispensable to success could not be obtained.

  Elizabeth, as has before been intimated, had dissembled her religious opinions, and though she formed some excuse for not being present at the performance of mass, she requested to have an instructor in the tenets of the Catholic faith, and even went so far as to write to the Emperor to send a cross, a chalice, and other ornaments for the celebration of the religious rites of Rome, to decorate her chapel.

  As to Courtenay, he appeared to have become sensible of the perilous position in which he stood, and was only prevented from withdrawing from the struggle by his unabated passion for Elizabeth. Lord Guilford Dudley still cherished his ambitious views, and Jane still mourned in secret.

  Matters were in this state at the commencement of the new year, when, as above related, the Ambassadors arrived from the court of Spain. Shortly after their arrival, they had an audience of the Queen in the council-chamber of the White Tower; and when they had declared in due form that the Prince of Spain demanded her in marriage, she replied with great dignity, but some little prudery.

  “It does not become one of my sex to speak of her marriage, nor to treat of it herself. I have therefore charged my Council to confer with you on the matter, and, by the strictest conditions, to assure all rights and advantages to my kingdom, which I shall ever regard as my first husband.”

  As she pronounced
the last words she glanced at the ring placed on her finger by Gardiner on the day of her coronation.

  On the following day, the four ambassadors held a conference with Gardiner, Arundel, and Paget. The terms were entirely settled; and on the 12th of January, the treaty was signed, and delivered on both sides.

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  BY WHAT MEANS GARDINER EXTRACTED THE SECRET OF THE CONSPIRACY FROM COURTENAY; AND OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE DISCLOSURE.

  THREE days after the marriage-treaty was signed — namely, on the 15th of January 1554 — the lords of the Council, the lord mayor, the aldermen, and forty of the head commoners of the city, were summoned to the Tower, where they were received in the presence-chamber of the palace by Gardiner and Renard; the former of whom, in his capacity of chancellor, made them a long oration, informing them that an alliance was definitively concluded between the Queen and Philip of Spain; and adding, “that they were bound to thank God that so noble, worthy, and famous a Prince would so humble himself in his union with her Highness, as to take upon him rather the character of a subject, than of a monarch of equal power.”

  The terms of the treaty were next read, and the chancellor expatiated upon the many important concessions made by the Imperial Ambassadors; endeavoring to demonstrate that England was by far the greatest gainer by the alliance, and stating, “that it was her Highness’s pleasure and request, that like good subjects they would, for her sake, most lovingly receive her illustrious consort with reverence, joy, and honor.”

  No plaudits followed this announcement, nor was the slightest expression of joy manifested, except by the lords Arundel, Paget, and Rochester — the main supporters of the match, as has been previously stated, when it was brought before Parliament. Gardiner glanced at the Council — at the civic authorities — as if in expectation of a reply, but none was attempted, unless their very silence could be so construed. Whatever his real sentiments might be, the chancellor assumed an air of deep displeasure, and turning to Renard, who, with arms folded on his breast, scanned the assemblage with a cold, scrutinizing gaze, asked in an undertone, whether he should dismiss them?

  “On no account,” replied the Ambassador. “Compel them to give utterance to their thoughts. We shall the better know how to deal with them. My project once carried, and Philip united to Mary,” he muttered to himself, “we will speedily cudgel these stubborn English bull-dogs into obedience.”

  “Renard does not appear to relish the reception which the announcement of her Majesty’s proposed alliance has met with,” observed De Noailles, who stood in one corner of the chamber with Courtenay. “It will give him a foretaste of what is to follow. Had your lordship been proposed to the assembly, their manner would have been widely different.”

  “Perhaps so,” returned Courtenay, with a gratified smile; “and yet I know not.”

  “It may be shortly put to the proof,” answered De Noailles.

  “Never,” replied Courtenay; “I will never wed Mary.”

  “But Elizabeth?” cried the Ambassador.

  “Ay, Elizabeth,” echoed the Earl passionately, “with, or without a throne, she would be equally dear to me.”

  “You shall have her and the crown as well,” replied De Noailles.

  “I care not for the latter, provided I can obtain the former,” returned the Earl.

  “One is dependent upon the other,” rejoined De Noailles. “While Mary reigns, you must give up all hopes of Elizabeth.”

  “It is that conviction alone that induces me to take part in the conspiracy,” sighed Courtenay. “I am neither ambitious to rule this kingdom, nor to supplant Philip of Spain. But I would risk fortune, title, life itself, for Elizabeth.”

  “I know it,” ejaculated De Noailles to himself, “and therefore I hold her out as a lure to you, weak, wavering fool! I will use you as far as I find necessary, but no further. Rash and hare-brained as he is, Lord Guilford Dudley would make the better leader, and is the more likely to succeed. Jane’s party is hourly gaining strength. Well, well, I care not who wins the day, provided I foil Renard, and that I will do at any cost.”

  “A thousand marks that I read your Excellency’s thoughts!” cried a martial-looking personage, approaching them. He was attired in a coat of mail, with quilted sleeves, a velvet cassock, cuisses, and buff boots drawn up above the knee; and carried in his hand a black velvet cap, ornamented with broad bonework lace. His arms were rapier and dagger, both of the largest size. “Is the wager accepted?” he added, taking the Ambassador’s arm within his own, and drawing him aside.

  “My thoughts are easily guessed, Sir Thomas Wyat,” replied De Noailles; “I am thinking how prosperously all goes for us.”

  “Right,” rejoined Wyat; “out of that large assemblage three only are favorable to the Imperialists. If you approve it, I will myself — though not a member of the Council — answer Gardiner’s speech, and tell him we will not suffer this hateful alliance to take place.”

  “That were unwise,” rejoined De Noailles; “do not meddle in the matter. It will only attract suspicion towards us.”

  “I care not if it does,” replied Wyat; “we are all ready and sure of support. I will go further, if need be, and add, if the Queen weds not Courtenay, a general insurrection will follow.”

  “Courtenay will never wed the Queen,” observed the Earl, who had followed them, and overheard the remark.

  “How?” exclaimed Wyat, in surprise.

  “No more at present,” interposed De Noailles hastily. “Renard’s eyes are upon us.”

  “What if they are?” cried Wyat, glancing fiercely in the direction of the Imperial Ambassador. “His looks — basilisk though they be — have no power to strike us dead. Oh that I had an opportunity of measuring swords with him! He should soon perceive the love I bear his prince and him.”

  “I share in your hatred towards him,” observed Courtenay. “The favor Mary shows him proves the ascendancy he has obtained over her.”

  “If he retains his power, farewell to the liberty of Englishmen,” rejoined Wyat; “we shall become as abject as the Flemings. But I, for one, will never submit to the yoke of Spain.”

  “Not so loud!” cried De Noailles, checking him. “You will effectually destroy our scheme. Renard only seeks some plea to attack us. Have a moment’s patience, and some one not connected with the plot will take the responsibility upon himself.”

  The prudence of the Ambassador’s counsel was speedily exemplified. While the conversation above related occurred, a few words passed between the principal members of the Council, and the heads of the civic authorities, and, at their instance, the Earl of Pembroke stepped forward.

  “We are aware, my lord,” he said, addressing Gardiner, “that we ought, on the present occasion, to signify our approval of the Queen’s choice — to offer her our heartfelt congratulations — our prayers for her happiness. But we shall not seek to disguise our sentiments. We do not approve this match; and we have heard your lordship’s communication with pain — with sorrow — with displeasure — displeasure that designing counsellors should have prevailed upon her Highness to take a step fatal to her own happiness, and to the welfare of her kingdom. Our solicitations are, therefore — and we earnestly entreat your lordship to represent them to her Majesty — that she will break off this engagement, and espouse some English nobleman. And we further implore of her to dismiss from her Councils the Imperial Ambassador, M. Simon Renard, by whose instrumentality this match has been contrived, and whose influence we conceive to be prejudicial to the interests of our country.”

  “You do me wrong, Lord Pembroke,” replied Renard; “and I appeal to the lord chancellor, whether, in negotiating this treaty, I have made any demands on the part of my sovereign calculated to detract from the power or authority of yours.”

  “On the contrary,” replied Gardiner, “your Excellency has conceded more than we had any right to expect.”

  “And more than my brother Ambassadors deemed fitting,” rejo
ined Renard. “But I do not repent what I have done, well knowing how anxious the Emperor Charles the Fifth is to unite his son to so wise, so excellent, and so religious a princess as the Queen of this realm, and that no sacrifice could be too great to insure him her hand.”

  “I am bound to add that your Excellency has advanced nothing but the truth,” acquiesced Gardiner; “and though, at first, as is well known to Lord Pembroke and others of the Council, I was as averse to the match as he or they could be, I am now its warmest advocate. But I will not prolong the discussion. Her Highness’s word is passed to the Prince — the contract signed — the treaty concluded. Your remonstrances, therefore, are too late. And if you will suffer me to point out to you the only course that can with propriety be pursued, I would urge you to offer her Majesty your loyal congratulations on her choice — to prepare to receive her consort in the manner she has directed — and to watch over the interests of your country so carefully, that the evils you dread may never arise.”

  “If my solemn assurance will satisfy the Earl of Pembroke and the other honorable persons here present,” remarked Renard, “I will declare, in the Prince my master’s name, that he has not the remotest intention of interfering with the government of this country — of engaging it in any war — or of placing his followers in any office or post of authority.”

  “Whatever may be the Prince’s intentions,” rejoined Gardiner, “he is precluded by the treaty from acting upon them. At the same time, it is but right to add, that these terms were not wrung from his Ambassador, but voluntarily proposed by him.”

  “They will never be adhered to,” cried Sir Thomas Wyat, stepping forward, and facing Renard, whom he regarded with a look of defiance.

  “Do you dare to question my word, sir?” exclaimed Renard.

  “I do,” replied Wyat sternly. “And let no Englishman put faith in one of your nation, or he will repent his folly. I am a loyal subject of the Queen, and would shed my heart’s blood in her defence. But I am also a lover of my country, and will never surrender her to the domination of Spain!”