At St. Paul's Cross
'Oh, Margery! Margery! I am in sore trouble!'
It was the next morning, and Queen Jane turning away from all her
grand Court ladies, seized the first opportunity of being alone with
me to sob out her griefs in my arms, which held her tightly and with
great affection.
I gathered, with a little difficulty, for she would not say one word
against her husband, Lord Guildford Dudley, that he, at whose bidding
she was making so great a sacrifice, not satisfied with that, was
becoming even more exacting. At first all his ambition seemed to be
centred in the desire that his wife should be Queen of Great Britain
and Ireland, and that in spite of her firm conviction that she would
be usurping the throne which rightly belonged to Princess Mary. But
now, not content with seeing her made queen, he desired to be crowned
also, that he might be king with equal rights to hers. This,
however, my dear mistress could not agree to, for if she had a
slender claim to the crown, being only the granddaughter of Henry
VII's youngest daughter, Mary, he had even less, being no relation at
all. It seemed that his father, the Duke of Northumberland, had
persuaded the Council, who being in the Tower were practically in his
power, to say that they would make Guildford Dudley king; but Lady
Jane reminded the latter that she only had the power to confer the
title upon him, adding that it would be impossible for her to do it,
as it would not be right; moreover, the people, who were unwilling to
see her queen, would be actually incensed if a son of the Duke of
Northumberland--who was by no means popular--likewise mounted the
throne.
Lord Guildford Dudley, however, would not perceive the justice of
these asseverations. He took it ill that Jane, whom he had assisted
to the throne, should dislike the idea of sharing it with him, and,
after quarrelling with her bitterly, departed alone for Sion House,
leaving her to get on as well as she could without him. Then his
mother was very angry with her, upbraiding and reproaching her, as
did also her own mother, the Duchess of Suffolk.
Poor Queen of England! Every step of the way was a bitter one for
her. Was ever a young creature, standing where childhood and
womanhood meet, so sorely tried? The evening before, at six o'clock,
she had been proclaimed queen in London, the announcement meeting
with sullen silence on the part of the people, one of whom, a
vintner's lad, even daring to vindicate the rights of the Princess
Mary--for which he was afterwards severely punished.
'It was mainly at the desire of my husband that I consented to be
queen,' sobbed my mistress, 'yet he has left me in anger, and his
father and mother are mightily incensed with me. It is all so
miserable, and my own conscience afflicts me, for all that they have
said to me has not quietened its doubts about the equity of my
position. I cannot help suspecting--especially after what has just
happened--that my father-in-law's ambition has been the pivot on
which we have all turned. And in the fierce light which all that has
been occurring has thrown over everything concerning me, I cannot
fail to see that the Duke of Northumberland in causing his son
Guildford to marry me was but preparing for this. I believe my dear
lord loves me,' she added wistfully, 'but perhaps his father's
ambition hurried on our marriage.'
I thought that was likely enough, having heard much during the last
day or two about Northumberland's ambition, but hastened to assure my
mistress in all sincerity that her charms of person, disposition and
mind were such that no young man could possibly be intimate with her
without being susceptible to the tender passion, whereupon she smiled
through her tears, exclaiming--
'You little flatterer! But if that be so you must by all means keep
your own chosen lover away from my presence.'
I blushed very much at that, which caused Queen Jane to insist upon
my telling her all about my own love story and the name of the man
who had won my heart; and, when she heard that it was the same brave
knight who escorted me to Sion House when I came to live with her,
she was very pleased, and said that it was a pretty romance in real
life and she trusted that God would bless us and give us a very happy
future together in His own good time.
We were interrupted by the entrance of the Duchess of Suffolk, who
bade her daughter sternly, though in stilted Court language, to
prepare to transact business with her father and the Duke of
Northumberland and the Council. Indeed, there were many matters for
the young queen to deal with and papers of importance for her to
sign, and she addressed herself bravely to the task of taking up the
burden of royalty at the call of duty. For, having consented to be
made queen, she knew that she must fulfil the obligations attached to
the high office, to the best of her ability.
'I am happier when I am busily employed,' she said to me later in the
day. 'It is when I have time to think, Margery, that my doubts and
fears return. Dear one,' she continued, 'I am told that on Sunday
next Dr. Ridley, the Bishop of London, is going to preach at St.
Paul's Cross, and I want you to do me this favour. You must go and
hear him, that you may tell me everything he says. I would fain
know, Margery,' she went on very wistfully, 'for it may throw light
on what I am at present unable to see.'
I knew she meant the entire justice of her accession to the throne,
and readily promised that, if I could leave the Tower and go to hear
the bishop, I would tell her every word he said. I doubted not that
one of my friends, Sir William Wood or Sir Hubert Blair, would escort
me through the crowds which would congregate to hear the eloquent
divine.
In my own mind I was full of uneasiness now about the position of my
dear lady, for a messenger had arrived at the Tower from Princess
Mary, the late king's elder sister, to say that she commanded the
Council to see that she was duly proclaimed, and warning them to
desist from their treasonable purposes. The Council, with small
courtesy, refused to do this, and scarcely had the messenger gone
when news came pouring in that Princess Mary had taken up her
position at Framlingham Castle in Suffolk, where the nobility, gentry
and people were flocking to her standard. It was therefore necessary
that forces should be sent out to overcome and disperse Mary's army,
and the Council and the Duke of Northumberland were much exercised as
to who should lead them. It was rumoured amongst us that the Duke of
Northumberland wanted the Duke of Suffolk to go, whilst the Council
wished Northumberland himself to head the expedition. If he went it
was a question whether the Council, left to themselves, would remain
true to Queen Jane, for they had been coerced and over-persuaded by
him, though secretly, like most of the people, in favour of Mary.
There were intrigues on all sides, and several of the Council so
worked upon my mistress's apprehensions that she begged that her
father might stay with her. It was therefore settled that
Northumberland should lead an army of 2,000 horsemen and 6,000 foot
soldiers against Mary's forces.
Accordingly, on the thirteenth, after exhorting the Council to remain
true to Queen Jane, he left the Tower for Durham House, where he
stayed a night, and then, on the fourteenth, he and his men marched
out of the city. We were told by Sir William Wood, who had gone with
many others to see them depart, that the Duke of Northumberland was
heard observing to some one that though numbers watched them go,
there was not one to say, 'God speed you!'
Our hearts were full of apprehension upon hearing this; and also Sir
William's tidings that the silence of the multitude watching the
troops go was something marvellous and most terrifying in its
significance.
And yet again my dear lady said to me--
'Margery, you must go to hear what Dr. Ridley has to say about my
claims, for I should fear nothing if only I were absolutely certain
that they are just and equitable.'
Upon the Sunday, therefore--July 16 it was--I left the Tower with
Lady Caroline and Sir William Wood and went to St. Paul's Cross,
where a very great congregation was assembled to hear the bishop's
preaching.
Sir William found us a place, with some difficulty, where we could
stand without being pushed and hustled by the crowd, but we could
hear nothing at first except the talking and moving about of the
multitude, the cries of those who were hurt or pushed, and the
endeavours of those in authority to induce order and quiet.
When, at length, I was able to hear what the venerable bishop was
saying, I found that his eloquence was being exerted on a theme so
much to my mind that I could have listened all day. He was speaking
of the virtues and abilities of my dear mistress, and praising her
exceedingly for her goodness and her learning, dwelling much upon the
beneficent effect her Protestant rule would be certain to have upon
the people of England, and maintaining her right and her title to the
throne by the best arguments he could devise--I noticed among these
none that were new, however, which I could carry home to Queen Jane.
The fact was, he said nothing but what had been already employed,
only being an orator, he said it more emphatically and more
beautifully, and being a bishop, his words had to my thinking more
weight, and he spoke them as one having great spiritual authority.
I was listening eagerly, with my eyes fixed on the preacher and ears
intent only upon his words, when a man wrapped in a long
foreign-looking cloak pressed so closely against me that I was pushed
a little way from my companions. Glancing at the man with
indignation, I perceived that his face was concealed partly by the
collar of his coat and partly by a large felt hat pulled low over his
brow. It was impossible, therefore, to distinguish his features, and
yet I knew I had seen him before.
'Allow me,' I said, 'to step nearer to my friends.'
The fellow pretended not to hear. He stuck his hands in his pockets
and straightened his broad back between me and my companions. I
thought he was a boor, but no worse, and, giving up the attempt to
move him, became speedily absorbed again in the preaching, if
preaching it could be called, which was now a speech inveighing
against the claims of the late King Henry's daughters, and especially
of the Princess Mary, and representing, moreover, that if the latter
succeeded to the throne it would mean certain destruction to the
reformed religion, which, on the other hand, the amiable and pious
Queen Jane would maintain in its entirety. He spoke, too, of the
likelihood of Mary's contracting a marriage with a prince of the
house of Spain, where the Inquisition, with all its ghastly horrors,
was maintained. Then he went on to tell of an interview he had had
with Mary before the late king's death. He had ridden over to visit
her at Hundson, and she invited him to stay to dinner.
After the meal was over he told her that on the Sunday he intended
coming to preach before her, upon which she replied that the Church
would be open to him, but he must not expect to see her and her
household there. He answered by expressing the hope that she would
not refuse God's Word, to which she replied that she did not know
what they called God's Word now, as it certainly was not the same as
in her father's time.
'God's Word, said I,' cried the preacher, 'was the same at all times,
though better understood and practised in some ages than others.'
On his retiring, the princess thanked him for coming to see her, but
not at all for his proposal to preach before her.
The bishop paused, after relating the anecdote, as if sure that on
hearing of Mary's bigotry his audience would wish to repudiate the
idea of their wanting her to be their queen.
But, once again, silence and unresponsiveness chilled the hearts of
those who loved Queen Jane.
'You see they are convinced that, in spite of everything, Mary should
be queen,' said a woman standing near me.
'The boy who scarcely said more than that the other day was cruelly
maltreated for it,' muttered the man in the long cloak,' and I shall
inform of you, madam, unless you,' he ended by whispering something
into the woman's ear.
Immediately, with a look of terror, she put her arm in mine and began
to draw me away from my friends, the man taking hold of my other arm,
and almost pushing me along.
I called to Sir William Wood, who had his back towards me and did not
hear. I entreated Lady Caroline for help, but she was whispering
with some ladies, and I could not attract her attention. Then I
appealed to the bystanders, but the man, looking threateningly at
them, declared that he would knock down the first who interfered. As
he said the words I recognized his voice. He was Sir Claudius
Crossley.
And I was in his power, for now we were surrounded by men whom I also
recognized, as they were some of those who had drowned the poor old
women they called witches.
'No harm will be done to you if you come with us quietly,' said Sir
Claudius in my ear.
But I did not believe him, and in desperation struggled to free
myself, and cried aloud for help.
The next moment Sir Hubert Blair rode up, and, dashing towards me
into the crowd, scattered it on all sides, then, springing from his
horse, he seized my adversary in his powerful arms and, hurling him
to the ground, administered not a few blows with the butt-end of his
riding-whip.
This done, he turned to me, but I had already fled towards my friends
and, seeing I was safe, he only smiled and waved his hand, and rode
off in another direction, having evidently business of importance in
hand.
I saw no more of Sir Claudius Crossley that day, but the incident had
shown that he was still my active enemy, bent upon fulfilling his
vow, which Betsy had reported to me, that he would win me for his own
and vanquish my proud and haughty spirit.