This room, which was situated within the White Tower, and which Jane was apprised adjoined the council-chamber, was filled with armed men. Smiling at this formidable assemblage, Northumberland directed the Queen towards a circular-arched opening in the wall on the right, and led her into a narrow vaulted gallery formed in the thickness of the wall. A few steps brought them to another narrow gallery, branching off on the left, along which they proceeded. Arrived at a wide opening in the wall, a thick curtain was then drawn aside by two attendants, and Jane was ushered into the council-chamber. The sight which met her gaze was magnificent beyond description. The vast hall, resembling in all respects the antechamber she had just quitted, except that it was infinitely more spacious, with its massive roof hung with banners and its wooden pillars decorated with velvet and tapestry, was crowded to excess with all the principal persons and their attendants who had formed her retinue in her passage along the river, grouped according to their respective ranks. At the upper end of the chamber, beneath a golden canopy, was placed the throne; on the right of which stood the members of the privy-council, and on the left the bishops. Opposite to the throne, at the lower extremity of the room, the walls were hung with a thick curtain of black velvet, on which was displayed a large silver scutcheon charged with the royal blasen. Before this curtain was drawn up a line of arquebusiers, each with a caliver upon his shoulder.
No sooner was the Queen seated, than Northumberland, who had placed himself at the foot of the throne, prostrated himself, and besought her permission to lay before the lords of the council a despatch, just received from the Lady Mary; which being accorded, he arose, and, turning towards them, unfolded a paper, and addressed them in a stern tone as follows: – “My lords,” he began, “it will scarcely surprise you to be informed that the Lady Mary, in the letter I here hold, given under her signet, and dated from Kenninghall in Norfolk, lays claim to the imperial crown of this realm, and requires and charges you, of your allegiance, which you owe to her, and to none other, – it is so written, my lords, – to employ yourselves for the honour and surety of her person only; and furthermore, to cause her right and title to the crown and government of the realm to be proclaimed within the city of London and other places, as to your wisdoms shall seem good. Now, my lords, what say you? What answer will you make to these insolent demands – to these idle and imaginary claims?”
“None whatever,” replied the Earl of Pembroke; “we will treat them with the scorn they merit.”
“That may not be, my lord,” observed Queen Jane; “your silence will be misconstrued.”
“Ay, marry will it,” rejoined Northumberland, glancing fiercely at the Earl; “and your advice, my lord of Pembroke, savours strongly of disloyalty. I will tell you how you shall answer this misguided lady. You shall advertise her, firstly, that on the death of our sovereign lord, Edward the Sixth, Queen Jane became invested and possessed with the just and right title in the imperial crown of this realm, not only by good order of ancient laws, but also by our late sovereign lord’s letters patent, signed with his own hand, and sealed with the great seal of England, in presence of the most part of the nobles, councillors, judges, and divers other grave and sage personages, assenting to and subscribing the same. You shall next tell her, that having sworn allegiance to Queen Jane, you can offer it to no other, except you would fall into grievous and unspeakable enormities. You shall also remind her, that by the divorce made between the king of famous memory, King Henry the Eighth, and the lady Catherine her mother, confirmed by sundry acts of parliament yet in force, she was justly made illegitimate and unheritable to the crown of this realm. And lastly, you shall require her to surcease, by any pretence, to vex and molest our sovereign lady Queen Jane, or her subjects from their true faith and allegiance unto her grace. This, my lords, is the answer you shall return.”
“We will consider of it,” cried several voices.
“Your decision must be speedy,” returned the Duke, scornfully; “a messenger waits without, to convey your reply to the Lady Mary. And to spare your lordships any trouble in penning the despatch, I have already prepared it.”
“Prepared it!” ejaculated Cecil.
“Ay, prepared it,” repeated the Duke. “It is here,” he added, producing a parchment, “fairly enough written, and only lacking your lordships’ signatures. Will it please you, Sir William Cecil, or you, my lord of Pembroke, or you, Shrewsbury, to cast an eye over it, to see whether it differs in aught from what I have counselled as a fitting answer to Mary’s insolent message? You are silent: then, I may conclude you are satisfied.”
“Your grace concludes more than you have warrant for,” rejoined the Earl of Pembroke; “I am not satisfied, nor will I subscribe that letter.”
“Nor I,” added Cecil.
“Nor I,” repeated several others.
“We shall see,” returned Northumberland: “bring pen and ink,” he added, motioning to an attendant, by whom his commands were instantly obeyed. “Your grace of Canterbury,” he continued, addressing Cranmer, “will sign it first. ‘Tis well. And now, my lord Marquess of Winchester, your signature; my lord Bedford, yours; now yours, Northampton; yours, my lord chancellor; next, I shall attach my own; and now yours, brother of Suffolk. You see, my lords,” he said, with a bitter smile, “you will be well kept in countenance.”
While this was passing, Simon Renard, who stood among the throng of privy-councillors, observed in a whisper to those nearest him, – “If this despatch is signed and sent forth, Mary’s hopes are ruined. She will suspect some treachery on the part of her friends, and immediately embark for France, which is what Northumberland desires to accomplish.”
“His scheme shall be defeated, then,” replied Pembroke; “it never shall be signed.”
“Be not too sure of that,” rejoined Renard, with a scarcely-repressed sneer.
“And now, my lord of Arundel,” said the Duke, taking the document from Suffolk, “we tarry for your signature.”
“Then your grace must tarry still longer,” replied Arundel, sullenly, “for I am in no mood to furnish it.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Northumberland, fiercely, – but, instantly checking himself, he turned to the next peer, and continued: “I will pass on, then, to you, Lord Shrewsbury. I am assured of your loyalty. What! do you, too, desert your queen? God’s mercy! my lord, I have been strangely mistaken in you. Pembroke, you can now prove I was in error. You fold your arms – ‘tis well! I understand you. Rich, Huntingdon, Darcy, I appeal to you. My lords! my lords! you forget to whom you owe allegiance. Sir Thomas Cheney, – do you not hear me speak to you, Sir Thomas? Cecil, my politic, crafty Cecil, – a few strokes of your pen is all I ask, and those you refuse me. Gates, Petre, Cheke, – will none of you move? will none sign?”
“None,” answered Pembroke.
“It is false,” cried Northumberland, imperiously; “you shall all sign, —all! vile, perjured traitors that you are! I will have your hands to this paper, or, by God’s precious soul! I will seal it with your blood. Now, will you obey me?”
There was a stern, deep silence.
“Will you obey him?” demanded Renard, in a mocking whisper. “No!” answered Pembroke, fiercely.
“Guards!” cried Northumberland, “advance, and attach their persons.”
The command was instantly obeyed by the arquebusiers, who marched forward and surrounded them.
Jane fixed an inquiring look upon Northumberland, but she spoke not.
“What next?” demanded Pembroke, in a loud voice.
“The
