Paschal, the page, was also to be strictly enjoined to keep silence.
The Lord Chancellor and Hertford entirely approved of the course pursued by the Primate, and after some further deliberation, it was agreed that no proceedings should be taken till the King’s return, when the dreadful disclosure should be made to him by Cranmer.
XVIII. How the Disclosure was made to the King.
HENRY’S homeward journey from Lincoln was unmarked by any event calculated to interfere with his enjoyment. Some strange whispers were heard among his attendants, but nothing reached his ears.
Whatever suspicions might be entertained as to the Queen’s intimacy with Adrian Culpepper, a discreet silence was observed. The King’s besotted attachment to his faithless consort formed the subject of some scurril jests among the grooms of the chamber and the pages — but that was all.
Acting upon Cranmer’s instructions, the Bishop of Lincoln, who accompanied the royal pair on their return, kept strict watch over Adrian and Dereham, and menaced Paschal with severe punishment if he committed the slightest indiscretion.
Thus all went on smoothly, and Henry’s felicity was perfectly undisturbed.
When the royal party were within two days of London, the Bishop of Lincoln sent on Paschal with another warning letter to Cranmer. In this despatch, he informed the Archbishop that a meeting of the Privy Council, presided over by Gardiner, had been held at the house of Sir John Gorstwick, one of the Primate’s bitterest enemies, and that the King’s sanction had been obtained — doubtless through the Queen’s instrumentality — to his Grace’s arrest, and committal to the Tower. To avert the threatened blow, he must he prepared to act with promptitude and decision.
Cranmer did not need this caution. He had already drawn up a statement of the Queen’s misconduct, which he intended to lay before the King, immediately on his Majesty’s return.
Full of satisfaction with the result of his progress — idolizing his fair young consort more than ever — and promising himself years of uninterrupted happiness with her, Henry arrived at Whitehall.
But he set out betimes next day, with all his attendants, for Hampton Court, so that Cranmer was constrained to follow him thither.
Great festivities took place that night at the Palace; and it was remembered, afterwards, that his Majesty was merrier than usual, and lavished more than his ordinary attentions on the Queen; pledging her repeatedly at the banquet — listening, enraptured, to her singing, and abstaining wholly from play, in order to devote himself to her.
The French and Imperial ambassadors were present, and to both he expatiated on his matrimonial felicity in terms that made them laugh internally, though they offered him their warmest congratulations.
Catherine’s charms and witchery of manner quite justified the King’s eulogies. Never had she looked more lovely — never had she been in higher spirits. Adrian gazed at her with admiration, but his heart was oppressed by a presentiment of ill.
Cranmer had arrived at the Palace, but forbore to present himself that night to the King. Norfolk and Gardiner were told that he had come, and exulted.
He had thrown himself into their hands. His arrest should take place on the morrow.
On the morrow, Dereham looked for the gratification of his long-delayed vengeance.
The morrow came — destined to be fatal to the Queen.
While kneeling at the altar in his splendid chapel, Henry, in a loud voice, gave thanks to heaven that, after the many strange accidents that had befallen his marriages, he had been blessed with a wife entirely conformed to his wishes.
When leaving the chapel, he desired the Bishop of Lincoln, who officiated, to prepare a public form of thanksgiving to heaven for bestowing upon him a Queen so loving, so dutiful, so virtuous.
The Bishop was saved from the necessity of making a direct response to this injunction by an usher, who advanced to inform his Majesty that the Archbishop of Canterbury craved an immediate audience of him.
“Where is he?” demanded Henry, frowning.
“In your private cabinet, sire,” replied the usher.
The King went thither at once, and as he entered, the door was closed, and he was left alone with the Archbishop, whom he greeted very sternly.
“Your Grace has done well during my absence — mighty well,” he said, in a mocking tone.
“I trust so, sire,” replied the Archbishop.
He then knelt down, and presented a paper to the King.
“What is this?” cried Henry, very sternly. “A confession of thy heresies, and a prayer for pardon? — ha! An’ I would, I cannot hinder Norfolk and Gardiner from preferring charges of heresy against thee before the Council.”
Cranmer did not appear dismayed, but gazed sorrowfully at the wrathful monarch.
“Why dost look at me thus?” demanded Henry. “Dost pity me?”
“In faith, I do, sire, from the bottom of my heart,” replied the Archbishop.
And he added, in tones calculated to impress the King, “Read that paper, I pray you, sire. It relates not to me, but to the Queen.”
Henry was greatly startled.
“To the Queen! ha!” he exclaimed. “Would’st thou calumniate her, to defend thyself? If it be an accusation, I pronounce it false. The Queen is an angel of purity. Take back the paper.”
“Sire,” rejoined Cranmer, firmly, but sorrowfully, “it behoves you to read it. I would not inflict such pain upon you, but your honour is concerned.”
“My honour! ha!” cried Henry.
“All that is stated in that document can be proved, sire. Would it could not be so! Suffer me, I beseech you, to retire while you peruse it.”
The King motioned him to stay, and mustering all his firmness, opened the paper.
Dreadful was the shock he received, and very painful to witness. A strong man crushed is a piteous spectacle.
After vainly struggling with his emotion, the King was obliged to yield, and with a groan that seemed to issue from the very depths of his breast, he sank into a chair.
Cranmer thought it better to let his passion of grief subside, before offering him any sympathy.
After awhile, the King spoke in broken accents: “If this be true, Cranmer, there is not a man in my dominions more miserable than myself. I loved her, Cranmer — loved her better than I ever loved woman. I thought to have passed years of happiness with her; and now—”
Here his utterance was choked by emotion; but he soon recovered.
“I must think of her for a moment, before I cast her from my heart for ever. Oh, how beautiful she is, Cranmer — an incomparable creature! Helen of Greece was not fairer.”
“Helen of Greece was not more false, sire,” said the Archbishop. “Dwell not upon her perfections, but on her frailty.”
“You are right, Cranmer,” cried Henry, rousing himself. “Such weakness is unworthy of me. The suddenness of the blow overcame me. I have been deeply injured — but I will have vengeance. They shall all feel my wrath. Wot you if Dereham is in the palace?”
“He is, sire, and so is Adrian Culpepper. I have seen them both, this very mom.”
“Ah! Adrian, whom I so blindly trusted!” cried Henry, as if stung to the quick by the thought. “More perfidious art thou than Norris! But thou shalt pay for thy treachery with thy life!”
He then struck a bell on the table; and when the usher entered, he said, “Bid Sir Anthony Browne come to me instantly.”
Shortly afterwards, Sir Anthony appeared; and while making an obeisance, remarked, “Your Majesty seems disturbed. I hope nothing unpleasant has happened.”
“You will learn what has happened anon, Sir Anthony,” replied the King. “Meantime, let all the gates of the palace be closed. No one must be allowed to go forth on any pretence whatever. That done, bring the Queen’s private secretary before me.”
“Hugh Tilney, sire?”
“Hugh Tilney, or Francis Dereham — which thou wilt.”
“Your Majesty alarm
s me!” cried Sir Anthony.
“See that no one else is alarmed — especially Adrian Culpepper. How hateful the name is to me!” exclaimed the King. “Bring hither the varlet I have mentioned.”
“With a guard, sire?”
“With a guard.”
XIX. How Dereham was interrogated by the King.
HENRY’S injunctions were obeyed with so much promptitude that, within a quarter of an hour, Dereham was brought before him by Sir Anthony. The guard was left outside.
When arrested, Dereham exhibited no alarm; but instantly threw off all disguise, and astounded Sir Anthony and the halberdiers by the extraordinary change that he produced in his personal appearance.
The King instantly recognised him, and was highly incensed by the excessive audacity of his demeanour.
In reply to the Archbishop, the prisoner freely owned that he was Francis Dereham, and that he had assumed the name of Tilney for reasons of his own, which he was ready to explain.
The answers were given with so much boldness, that the King lost all patience.
“Dost think to brave us, fellow?” he cried. “To the point. Thou wert page to the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk? — ha!”
“Page to the Duchess,” replied Dereham. “Husband to the Duchess’s granddaughter, the Lady Catherine Howard.”
“Husband!” ejaculated Henry.
“She gave me the right to call her wife,” said Dereham, with imperturbable coolness. “I was betrothed to her.”
Henry half rose upon his seat, but sat down again.
Sir Anthony Browne looked petrified with astonishment.
“I did not expect this avowal from thee, thou insolent traitor!” said Cranmer. “But I know it to he the truth.”
“It is the truth,” rejoined Dereham. “The contract between the Lady Catherine Howard and myself has never been annulled.”
The King winced.
“Bring the interrogation to a close,” he muttered to Cranmer.
“Why hast thou kept secret a matter of such deep import to his Majesty?” demanded the Archbishop.
“Because I wished for revenge,” was the hitter reply.
“Revenge! — on whom?” roared Henry.
“On her who has broken her plighted troth to me; and on her favoured lover, Adrian Culpepper,” replied Dereham. “This very day I intended to denounce them both to your Majesty, and make a full disclosure of all other circumstances.”
“Thou wouldst not have saved thy life by so doing,” observed Henry.
“I did not expect to save it, sire. I care not for life.”
“One question more, and I have done with thee,” said the King. “By answering it truthfully, thou may’st escape the rack.”
“The rack has no terrors for me, sire. But I will answer truthfully.”
The King then spoke aside to Cranmer, who presently addressed the prisoner.
“Since thou hast been in the Queen’s household, has any familiarity passed between her and thee?”
“None,” replied Dereham. “She treated me with scorn. All her love was for Adrian Culpepper.”
The fiendish smile that played on the villain’s countenance showed how much he enjoyed the torture he inflicted on the King.
“Shall I remove him, sire?” said Sir Anthony.
“Ay, take him to the Tower,” replied Henry. “Place him in one of the underground dungeons. Let him he submitted to the question, ordinary and extraordinary. If he dies not under the torture, let him be hanged as a pirate, and his head be fixed on the spikes of London Bridge.”
“Am I accused of piracy?” said Dereham.
“Piracy is among thy many offences,” rejoined Cranmer. “It can be proved that thou hast served under Dragut, the noted corsair. Thy accusers are Mary Lassells and thy African slave, Mourzouk — both of whom are in custody.”
“Hence with him!” cried the King, stamping his foot impatiently. “Let us hear how he bears the extremity of torture.”
Thereupon, the guard was summoned, and the prisoner led forth.
XX. How Adrian was arrested by the Earl of Hertford.
IN spite of the caution observed by Sir Anthony Browne, Dereham’s arrest became known immediately after it occurred, to Adrian Culpepper, who flew, at once, with the alarming intelligence, to the Queen’s apartments.
Catherine was alone at the time with Lady Rochford. They were chatting gaily over the events of the previous evening, but their smiles were instantly dispelled by Adrian’s looks.
“You bring bad news!” exclaimed the Queen.
“The worst that can be,” he replied. “Dereham is arrested.”
“Dereham arrested!” repeated Catherine, horror-stricken.
“He is now in the King’s cabinet,” replied Adrian.
“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Catherine, wringing her hands in anguish. “The King will come hither anon, and then what shall I say to him? His very looks will kill me. Lord Jesu, preserve me!”
And she sank on her knees.
Though almost equally terrified, Lady Rochford strove to comfort her.
Suddenly, the distracted Queen started to her feet, and grasping Adrian’s hand convulsively, cried, —
“How have Henry’s suspicions of Dereham been aroused?”
“I know not,” rejoined Adrian. “But Cranmer is with him in the Cabinet.”
“Ah!” ejaculated the Queen, despairingly. “Then all hope is gone. The fatal secret has been revealed. Why was I persuaded to act against Cranmer? In seeking his destruction, I have caused my own. He would have spared me, had I not joined his enemies.”
“Do not distract yourself with these self-reproaches!” cried Adrian. “Let us consider what can be done.”
“Nothing can be done,” she rejoined. “I cannot avoid my fate. I must die upon the block. The King wills it so.”
“Do not despair,” said Adrian. “He has not yet condemned you.”
“He will! — he will!” she exclaimed, shivering with terror. “He showed no mercy to Anne Boleyn. He will show no mercy to me. In the midst of all his tenderness, I have felt that he would be inexorable, if I offended him. You, too, who have loved me, will be sacrificed to his wrath,” she cried, throwing her arms round Lady Rochford’s neck.
When this passionate outburst was over, she turned to Adrian, and said, in a very mournful voice, —
“You must go now, dear Adrian. The King must not find you here, or you will be involved in my ruin, and that would aggravate my misery. ’Tis hard to part with you for ever, but it must be!”
He would have interrupted her, but she checked him by a look, and went on, “In this world, we shall never meet again. May we meet hereafter! In bidding you an eternal adieu, Adrian, I will not attempt to conceal from you that you alone have possessed my heart. I forsook you — I flung aside your true love, that fails me not even now, at this hour of extreme peril — for a throne! But I have been punished. Amid all my splendour, I have been wretched — so wretched that death will be welcome! Farewell for ever! Nay, you must go.”
“I obey,” he replied, fervently pressing her ice-cold fingers to his lips. “Farewell, for ever!”
He was preparing to depart, when Lady Rochford stopped him with a warning gesture, and said, in a low voice, —
“I hear footsteps in the corridor; it may be the King. Hide yourself behind the arras.”
Ere he could comply, the door was thrown open, and the Earl of Hertford came in, with his drawn sword in his hand. A party of halberdiers attended him.
Catherine and Lady Rochford regarded him with dread.
“Pardon this intrusion, madam,” said Hertford, with a formal obeisance to the Queen; “I have a painful duty to perform.”
Then, directing his steps towards Adrian, who had watched him anxiously, he said, “I have sought you vainly elsewhere, sir. But I felt sure of finding you here.”
“Why here, my lord?” cried Adrian, sharply.
Hertford vouchsafed no reply, but
said, —
“In the King’s name, I arrest you.”
“Arrested! in my presence!” exclaimed Catherine.
“By his Majesty’s order, madam,” said Hertford.
“Of what offence am I accused?” demanded Adrian.
“You are charged with lése-majesté and treason,” replied the Earl.
“The charge is false!” cried Catherine. “He is incapable of treason. He is loyalty itself.”
“This is imprudent,” whispered Lady Rochford, who bad vainly endeavoured to restrain her.
“Your testimony, I fear, will avail him but little, madam,” observed Hertford, coldly.
“It would do so, were he not in the hands of his enemies,” rejoined the Queen. “Heaven grant him a good deliverance!”
“I thank you, madam!” said Adrian. “My freedom from guilt will support me. I am ready, my lord.”
With a last look at the Queen, he quitted the chamber, in the custody of Hertford, the halberdiers closing around him, as he stepped forth into the corridor.
XXI. Catherine’s Message to the King.
AFTER Adrian had been removed, Catherine became almost frantic.
In vain, Lady Rochford represented to her that, at this terrible crisis, her safety depended upon calmness. She could not control herself even for a moment, but fell from one paroxysm into another.
Her distraction was so great, that Lady Rochford did not dare to summon any of the attendants, lest she should betray herself to them.
At last, she sank into a kind of stupor, from which she was aroused with difficulty.
“Oh! I have had a fearful dream,” she cried, shuddering. “I dreamt that all was discovered, that Adrian was taken to the Tower, and that we were to follow him thither. But why do you look at me so? Was it a dream? or has it really happened?”
Lady Rochford did not dare to tell her the truth, fearing a relapse.
But Catherine began to collect her faculties, and then the reality burst upon her in all its horror.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 633
