as well as husband—this disagreement has occurred, which a little calm reflection will put to rights.”
“What if his lordship should refuse to return with us?” asked Pembroke.
“You will use your best endeavours to induce him to do so,” replied Jane, a tear starting to her eye, and her voice faltering in spite of her efforts to maintain her composure. “But if you fail, I shall at least be satisfied that I have done my duty.”
“Your majesty’s commands shall be obeyed,” replied Pembroke. “But we must have your licence to go forth—for we are detained as prisoners within the Tower.”
“You shall have it,” replied Jane. And she immediately wrote out the order.
“The passport must be countersigned by the duke,” said Pembroke. “The gate-keepers will not hold this sufficient authority.”
“How!” exclaimed Jane, reddening, “Am I not Queen? Is not my authority absolute here?”
“Not while the duke holds his high office, gracious madam,” returned Pembroke. “His followers give you the name of Queen. But they look up to him as sovereign.”
“My lord, I need no assurance that you are Northumberland’s mortal enemy,” replied Jane.
“I am your majesty’s loyal subject,” replied the earl. “And if your passport be respected, I will confess that I have wronged him.”
“And if it be not, I will confess I have wronged you, my lord,” rejoined Jane. “The royal barge is at your service.—An usher shall conduct you to it.”
So saying, she motioned one of her train, to attend them, and the two nobles 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
