bowed and departed.
As soon as they had quitted the royal presence, Pembroke observed to his companion: —
“We have now effected a quarrel, which will end in Northumberland’s destruction and Jane’s dethronement. Simon Renard will so fan the flame, that it shall never be extinguished.”
As the Earl anticipated, the Queen’s pass was refused – the warders declaring that their instructions were to suffer no one to go forth without the Duke’s written order. They then returned to the palace. It was some time before they were admitted to the Queen, as she was engaged in the angry conference previously-related with her mother-in-law. When the Duchess had departed, they sought an audience.
“How, my lords,” cried Jane, turning very pale; “do I see you again so soon?”
“It is as I informed your highness,” replied the Earl of Pembroke, laying the order on the table. “The Duke is master here.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Queen, starting to her feet, “am I deserted by my husband – braved by the Duke – and treated like an infant by his imperious dame? I cry you pardon, my lords, you have not deceived me. You are my loyal subjects. Oh! I could weep to think how I have been deluded. But they shall find they have not made me queen for nothing. While I have power I will use it. My lords, I bid you to the council at noon tomorrow. I shall summon Lord Guilford Dudley to attend it, and he will refuse at his peril.”
“Have a care, gracious madam, how you proceed with the Duke,” replied Pembroke. “Your royal predecessor, Edward, it is said, came not fairly by his end. If Northumberland finds you an obstacle to his designs, instead of a means of forwarding them, he will have little scruple in removing you.”
“I shall be wary, doubt it not, my lord,” rejoined Jane. “To-morrow you shall learn my pleasure. I count on your fidelity.”
“Your majesty may safely do so,” they replied. And with renewed assurances of zeal, they departed.
“Her spirit is now fairly roused,” observed Pembroke, as they quitted the palace. “If she hold in the same mind till to-morrow, it is all over with Northumberland.”
“Souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s’y fie,” observed Simon Renard, advancing to meet them. “Let me know how you have sped.”
The Earl of Pembroke then related the particulars of their interview with the Queen.
“All goes on as well as I could desire,” observed Renard. “But she must come to an open rupture with him, else the crafty Duke will find some means of soothing her wounded pride. Be that my task.”
Taking their way slowly along the outer ward, the trio passed under the gloomy gateway of the Bloody Tower, and ascended a flight of steps on the left leading to the Tower Green. Here (as now,) grew an avenue of trees, and beneath their shade they found De Noailles, who instantly joined them. Renard then entered into a full detail of his schemes, and acquainted them with the information he had received through his messengers, in spite of all the Duke’s precautions, of the accession in strength which Mary’s party had received, and of the numbers who had declared themselves in her favour. He further intimated that his agents were at work among the people to produce a revolt in the metropolis.
As they proceeded across the Tower-green, the Earl of Pembroke paused at a little distance from the chapel, and pointing to a square patch of ground, edged by a border of white stones, and completely destitute of herbage, said —
“Two Queens have perished here. On this spot stood the scaffolds of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard.”
“And ere long a third shall be added to their number,” observed Renard, gloomily.
Shaping their course towards the north-east angle of the fortress, they stopped before a small turret, at that time called the Martin Tower, and used as a place of confinement for state offenders, but now denominated the Jewel Tower, from the circumstance of its being the depository of the regalia.
“Within that tower are imprisoned the Catholic Bishops Gardiner and Bonner,’” remarked Arundel..
“Let Mary win the crown, and it shall be tenanted by the protestants, Cranmer and Ridley,” muttered Renard.
While the others returned to the Green, Renard lingered for an instant to contemplate the White Tower, which is seen perhaps to greater advantage from this point of view than from any other in the fortress. And as it is in most respects unchanged, – excepting such repairs as time has rendered necessary, and some alterations in the doorways and windows, to be noted hereafter, – the modern visitor to this spot may, if he pleases, behold it in much the same state that it appeared to the plotting Spanish ambassador.
Rising to a height of nearly a hundred feet; built in a quadrangular form; terminated at each angle by a lofty turret, three of which are square, while the fourth, situated at the northeast, is circular, and of larger dimensions than the others; embattled; having walls of immense thickness, exceeding fourteen feet, and further strengthened by broad flat buttresses, dividing the face of the building into compartments; lighted by deep semi-circular-arched windows; – this massive stronghold, constructed entirely of stone, – and now in some parts defaced by a coating of mortar and flints, – occupies an area of an hundred and sixteen feet on the north and south, and ninety-six on the east and west. At the south-east corner is a broad semi-circular projection, marking the situation of St. John’s Chapel, already described. The round turret, at the north-east angle, was used as an observatory by the celebrated astronomer, Flamstead, in the reign of Charles the Second. The principal entrance was on the north, and was much more spacious than the modern doorway, which occupies its site.
At the period of this chronicle the White Tower was connected, as has already been mentioned, on the south-east with the ancient palace. On the south stood a fabric called the Jewel-house; while at the south-western angle was another embattled structure of equal elevation and dimensions with the By-ward Tower and the other gates, denominated the Coal-harbour Tower. These, with the Lanthorn Tower and the line of buildings extending in an easterly direction towards the Broad Arrow Tower, have totally disappeared, and the White Tower is now disconnected with every other edifice. For centuries it has stood, and for centuries may it continue to stand! Within its walls the old monarchs of England have held their councils, – within its vaults prisoners have sighed, – from its gates queens have come forth to execution! – Long may it flourish as a fearful memento of the past!
On the present occasion, it presented a stirring picture. From a tall staff, planted on the roof, floated the royal standard. Cannon bristled from its battlements, and armed men were seen marching from post to post on its platforms. Before the principal entrance four warders were stationed; and in front troops of arquebusiers and archers were passing under the review of their leaders. The sound of martial music filled the air; pennons and banners fluttered in the breeze; and pikes, steel caps, and corslets glittered in the sunbeams. Amid these warlike groups, the figures of the gigantic warders and their diminutive attendant, Xit, caught the eye of Renard, and filled him with astonishment: – the former being taller by the head and shoulders than the mass of their companions, besides far exceeding them in bulk and size of limb; while the latter, with more than ordinary pretensions to the dignity of manhood, had scarcely the stature of a child. It must not be omitted in the description of the White Tower that the summits of its four turrets were surmounted by large vanes, each decorated with a crown, in the hollows of which, as in our own time, the jackdaws were accustomed to build.
After gazing at this magnificent structure for a few minutes, and indulging in the emotions which its contemplation inspired, Simon Renard followed his companions, and resumed his discourse. They had again adverted
