The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

Home > Historical > The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth > Page 158
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 158

by William Harrison Ainsworth


  “Fear nothing,” observed the old knight. “My head shall answer for yours.”

  Thus reassured, Wyat advanced more confidently towards the Queen, and when within a few paces of her, paused and drew himself up to his full height. Bedingfeld took up a station on the right of the royal chair, and supported himself on his huge two-handed sword. On the left stood Gardiner and Renard.

  “I have sent for you, traitor and rebel that you are,” commenced Mary, “to know why you have thus incited my subjects to take up arms against me?”

  “I am neither traitor nor rebel, madam,” replied Wyat, “as I have already declared to one of your Council, and I but represent the mass of your subjects, who being averse to your union with the Prince of Spain, since you refuse to listen to their prayers, are determined to make themselves heard.”

  “Ha! God’s death! sir,” cried Mary furiously, “do you, or do any of my subjects think they can dispose of me in marriage as they think proper? But this is an idle pretext. Your real object is the subversion of my government, and my dethronement. You desire to place the Princess Elizabeth on the throne — and in default of her, the Lady Jane Grey.”

  “I desire to uphold your Majesty’s authority,” replied Wyat, “provided you will comply with my demands.”

  “Demands!” cried Mary, stamping her foot, while her eyes flashed fire. “It is the first time such a term has been used to me, and it shall be the last. In God’s name what are your demands? Speak, man.”

  “These, madam,” replied Wyat firmly. “I demand the custody of the Tower, the care of your royal person, the dismissal of your Council, and the head of your false counsellor, Simon Renard.”

  “Will nothing less content you?” inquired Mary sarcastically.

  “Nothing,” returned Wyat.

  “I pray your Majesty to allow me to punish the insolence of this daring traitor,” cried Renard, in extremity of fury.

  “Peace, sir,” rejoined Mary majestically. “Now hear me in turn, thou traitor Wyat. No man ever dictated terms to my father, and, by his memory! none shall do so to me. At once, and peremptorily, I reject your conditions; and had not Sir Henry Bedingfeld pledged his word for your safety, my guards should have led you from hence to the scaffold. Quit my presence, and as I would rather be merciful than severe, and spare the lives of my subjects than destroy them, if you disperse your host, and submit yourself to my mercy, I will grant you a free pardon. Otherwise nothing shall save you.”

  “When we next meet, your Majesty may alter your tone,” rejoined Wyat; “I take my leave of your Highness.”

  So saying, he bowed and retired with Sir Henry Bedingfeld.

  “Your Majesty will not let him escape?” cried Renard. “In sooth but I shall, sir,” replied Mary; “my word must be kept even with a traitor.”

  “You are over-scrupulous, madam,” rejoined Renard. “there is no faith to be kept with such a villain. Beseech you, let me follow him. His head, displayed to his companions, will disperse them more speedily than your whole army.”

  “I have already said it must not be,” replied Mary.

  “Nay then,” rejoined Renard, “I will take the responsibility of the act upon myself.”

  “Disobeyed!” exclaimed Mary authoritatively. “I command you not to leave the presence.”

  “Your Majesty will repent this mistaken clemency,” cried Renard, chafing with fury.

  “I shall never repent adhering to my word,” returned Mary. “And see here comes our lieutenant. How now, Sir Henry? Is the traitor gone?”

  “He is, your Highness,” replied Bedingfeld; “and it required all my authority to prevent the infuriated guard from falling upon him, and cutting him in pieces.”

  “I am glad you were with him,” replied Mary; “I would not for the best jewel in my crown that any harm had happened to him. Give me your hand, Sir Henry. I will myself visit the ramparts, and cheer the soldiers with my presence,”

  “Your Majesty will expose yourself,” returned Bedingfeld.

  “To whom?” replied Mary; “only to my subjects. They will not dare to assail their Queen. The daughter of your old master, Henry the Eighth, should have no fear.”

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  THE SIEGE OF THE TOWER.

  ON Wyat’s return, it was resolved that, under cover of darkness, the Duke of Suffolk and Lord Guilford Dudley should march with two detachments of men to Deptford, where a squadron of seven sail, commanded by Admiral Winter, together with a number of lesser craft, awaited them. Dudley and his party were then to cross the river in Winter’s boats, and proceed to East Smithfield; while Suffolk was to embark his men in the larger vessels, and to sail up the river with the tide. Wyat determined to attempt a passage across London Bridge, and if this could not be accomplished, to abide the arrival of Winter’s squadron.

  It was then arranged that the attack should take place two hours before dawn. The fortress was to be assailed simultaneously at three different points, so as to distract the attention of its defenders. To Lord Guilford Dudley was assigned the Brass Mount, and the north-east angle of the ramparts; to the Duke of Suffolk Traitor’s Tower, and the southern fortifications; and to Wyat the Middle Tower, and the By-ward Tower — two of the strongest defences of the fortress. If the attack proved successful, the three leaders were to concentrate their forces before the gateway of the Bloody Tower.

  When it was sufficiently dark, Suffolk and Dudley placed themselves at the head of their detachments and set out. Though they moved along with the utmost caution, they were heard by the soldiers on the ramparts, who reported their suspicions to Bedingfeld, and precautions were taken accordingly, though it was the opinion of many that the rebels had beat a retreat.

  At midnight, Wyat prepared to cross London Bridge.

  Aware that the drawbridges were cut away — that it was barricaded and strongly defended — he provided himself with planks and ropes, and issuing instructions to his men, set forward. They were allowed to proceed without molestation to the first drawbridge, but here a sharp fire was opened upon them. In spite of this, Wyat succeeded in laying down a plank, and at the head of a dozen men crossed it. Dislodging their opponents, several other planks were laid down, and the passage being rendered secure, the whole party crossed, and carried over their ammunition in safety.

  The report of the attack soon reached the city-guard. Drums were beaten, trumpets sounded, and shouts heard in every direction. While this was passing, a well-contested fight took place at the barricades in the centre of the bridge, between their defenders and the insurgents. Having broken down these obstacles, Wyat drove all before him. Still, another and wider chasm lay between him and the Middlesex shore. In front of it the assailed party made a desperate stand, but their resistance was unavailing. Many were precipitated into the yawning gulf and drowned; while others threw down their arms, and besought mercy.

  On the further side of the chasm a formidable array of soldiery opposed the progress of the rebel army, and a piece of ordnance did terrible execution amongst them. Two planks were hewn asunder as soon as they were thrust across the abyss, but the moment the third was laid down Wyat dashed across it, and drove back two men with hatchets in their hands who were about to sever it. He was followed by half-a-dozen soldiers. In this instance his fiery courage had well-nigh proved fatal to him, for no sooner had the small band crossed it, than the plank was hurled into the chasm, and Wyat left with his trifling party to contend against the whole host of his foes. His destruction appeared inevitable, but his self-possession stood him in good stead.

  “Fellow-countrymen,” he shouted “I am your friend, not your enemy. I would deliver you from thraldom and oppression. You ought rather to aid than oppose me. You are upholding Spain and the Inquisition, while I am fighting for England and liberty.”

  These few words, vociferated while he made a desperate stand against his opponents, turned the tide of affairs. In vain the royalist leaders shouted, “Down with the rebels! — the Queen! the Q
ueen!” They were answered by deafening cries of “A Wyat! a Wyat! No Philip of Spain — no Popish supremacy — no Inquisition!”

  Amid this tumult, the insurgents, who had witnessed with dismay the perilous position of their leader, redoubled their exertions; and placing several planks across the gulf, crossed them, and flew to his assistance. Following up the advantage he had gained, Wyat without difficulty routed his opponents. He then paused to cover the passage of the remainder of his troops and artillery across the chasm, which was safely accomplished.

  At the foot of Fish Street Hill, they were checked by a company of horse under the command of the Earl of Pembroke, and a skirmish took place, in which the royalists were worsted with severe loss, and many prisoners taken, as well as arms and horses. Pembroke, however, escaped and retreated to the Tower, bringing the news of his own defeat and of the successes of the rebels.

  The citizens showed little disposition to take part in the struggle. All they were uneasy about was the security of their property; but Wyat, having prohibited his men from plunder or riot, and Captain Bret proclaiming that no mischief should be done, they remained tranquil. In this way the insurgents marched, without further interruption, to Cornhill, where Wyat marshalled his forces, distributed rations of meat and liquors among them, and awaited the appointed time for his attack upon the Tower.

  Within the fortress all was consternation. The extraordinary success which had hitherto attended Wyat, well-nigh paralyzed the Queen’s party. The Council again urged Mary to escape privately, but she peremptorily refused and forbade the subject to be mentioned again, on pain of her severest displeasure. Some of the more timid then ventured to advise that she should assent to Wyat’s terms — that Renard should be given up, and the match with the Prince of Spain abandoned. “I will sooner abandon my crown,” rejoined Mary. Her courage never for one instant forsook her, and her spirit and resolution sustained the wavering minds of her adherents.

  Long before this, Suffolk and Dudley had reached Deptford. As agreed, the Duke and his detachment embarked on board Winter’s squadron, while the others were transported across the river in smaller boats. At Poplar Dudley ordered his men to nail together a number of stout boards, to serve as rafts. These were fastened with ropes to such horses as they could procure, and on reaching East Smithfield were unharnessed and held in readiness, until the signal of attack should be given. Besides the rafts, two or three wherries had been brought up from the river, and several long scaling-ladders provided.

  Dudley’s detachment consisted of about a thousand men, archers and arquebusiers, all of whom were well armed and eager for the attack. As yet, all was involved in profound darkness, and so far as they could judge, no suspicion of their presence was entertained by those within the fortress.

  Scouts were despatched towards the postern gate — a fortification terminating the city wall, and situated, as has before been stated, at the north side of the moat — and from one of them, who had contrived to scramble along the edge of the fosse, it was ascertained that a detachment of Sir Thomas Wyat’s party was creeping stealthily along, with the intention of surprising the postern gate.

  It had been Cholmondeley’s intention to search for the entrance to the secret communication through which he had passed beneath the moat, but the almost certainty that it would be stopped, induced him to abandon the idea.

  All at once, a blaze of light was seen at the south of the fortress, in the direction of the river. It was followed by the roar of artillery, and the sharper discharge of firearms, accompanied by the beating of drums, the loud braying of trumpets, the clashing of swords, and other martial sounds.

  On hearing this, Dudley gave the signal of assault. Dashing down the sides of the moat, his men launched their rafts on the water, and pushed them across with long poles. The noise they made betrayed them to the sentinels. The alarm was instantly given, and a tremendous fire opened upon them from the batteries and casemate of the Brass Mount, as well as from the eastern and western line of ramparts.

  The Brass Mount has already been described as the largest bastion of the Tower, standing at the north-east angle of the fortress, and its walls were, and still are, of such immense thickness, and it was so well fortified, that it was regarded as impregnable. Notwithstanding this impression, it formed the main object of the present attack. Amid a slaughterous fire from the besieged, Dudley embarked with Cholmondeley, who carried his standard, in a small skiff, and waving his sword above his head pointed to the Brass Mount, and urged his men to the assault. They wanted no encouragement; but in some degree protected by the showers of arrows discharged by the archers stationed on the sides of the moat, and the constant fire of the arquebusiers, succeeded in placing two ladders against that part of the eastern ramparts immediately adjoining the bastion.

  These were instantly covered with men, who mounted sword in hand, but were attacked and hurled backwards by the besieged. Another ladder was soon planted against the Brass Mount, while two more were reared against the northern ramparts opposite the postern gate, which had been stormed and taken by Wyat’s party, several of whom were descending the banks of the moat, and firing upon the fortress, assisted by three culverins placed in a temporary battery composed of large baskets filled with sand.

  All this had not been executed without severe loss on the part of the insurgents. Several of the rafts were swamped, and their occupants, embarrassed by the weight of their arms, drowned. One of the ladders planted against the northern battlements was hurled backwards with its living load; and such was the vigor and determination of the besieged, that none of the assailants could set a foot on the ramparts.

  Considerable execution, however, was done by the showers of arrows from archers, as well as by the discharges of the arquebusiers. But success did not, as yet, declare itself for either side. Constantly repulsed, the insurgents still resolutely returned to the charge; and though numbers fell from the ladders, other were instantly found to take their place.

  Seeing how matters stood, and aware that some desperate effort must be made, Dudley, who had hitherto watched the progress of the fight from the moat, exposing himself to the full fire of the batteries, resolved to ascend the ladder placed against the Brass Mount. Cholmondeley agreed to follow him, and amid the cheers of the assailants and the unrelaxing fire of the besieged, the boat was run in to the side of the bastion.

  At this juncture a loud explosion, succeeded by a tremendous shout, was heard at the south side of the fortress. For a brief space both royalists and insurgents ceased fighting; and taking advantage of the pause, Dudley swiftly mounted the ladder, and reaching the summit, shouted, “God save Queen Jane!”

  “God save Queen Jane!” echoed Cholmondeley, who was close behind him. “God save Queen Jane!” he repeated, waving the banner.

  The cry was reiterated from below, and the firing recommenced more furiously than ever.

  It was rumored among Dudley’s men, and the report stimulated their ardor, that the Duke of Suffolk had taken St. Thomas’s Tower. This, however, was not the case. After the embarkation of the troops as before related, the squadron under the command of Admiral Winter, accompanied by a number of galleys and wherries, made its way slowly to the Tower. Owing to the necessary delay, the tide had turned, and the larger vessels had to be towed up the river by the smaller craft.

  On their arrival they were immediately perceived by the sentinels, who opened a fire upon them, which was instantly returned. This was the commencement of the siege, and served as the signal to Dudley, and likewise to Wyat, of whose movements it will be necessary to speak hereafter.

  Before the squadron came up the Duke of Suffolk embarked in a small galley, and accompanied by several wherries filled with soldiers, contrived, by keeping close under the wall of the wharf, to effect a landing, unperceived, at the stairs. Taken by surprise, the guard fell an easy prey to their assailants, who seizing the cannon placed there, turned them against the fortress.

  While this was pass
ing several boats landed their crews at the eastern end of the wharf, and many others speeded towards it from all quarters. In a short time it was crowded by the insurgents, and notwithstanding the tremendous fire kept up against them from the whole line of battlements — from Traitor’s Tower — and from all the fortifications within shot, they resolutely maintained their ground.

  Directing the attack in person, and exposing himself to every danger, the Duke of Suffolk displayed the utmost coolness and courage. The fight raged furiously on both sides. Several boats, and one of the larger vessels, were sunk by the guns of the batteries, and the ranks of the insurgents were greatly thinned. Still there was no symptom of irresolution exhibited, nor did they relax for a moment in their efforts.

  Scaling-ladders were placed against the walls of Traitor’s Tower, and crowded with climbers, while a gunboat entered the dark arch beneath it, and its crew commenced battering with axes, halberds, and poles, against the portcullis and water-gate. Another party had taken possession of the buildings opposite the By-ward Tower, and were trying to reach the drawbridge, which, it is almost needless to say, was raised. Added to these, a strong body of Essex men, having congregated at Limehouse, approached the fortress by St. Catherine’s, and the lane leading to the Flemish church, and were striving to force the Iron Gate and the eastern outlet of the wharf.

  At this juncture an occurrence took place which, while it disheartened the besieged, tended greatly to animate the assailing party. At the south-west corner of the wharf stood a row of small habitations separating it from Petty Wales. One of these was presently observed to be on fire, and the flames rapidly spread to the others. Shortly afterwards a tremendous explosion took place. A building was blown up, and the fiery fragments tossed into the river and moat; while across the blazing ruins, with loud shouts, rushed a party of men from the troops under Sir Thomas Wyat.

 

‹ Prev