Having seen the rest of the council conveyed to the White Tower, Lord
Guilford Dudley returned to the palace. While discoursing on other
matters with the queen, he casually remarked that he was surprised he
did not perceive his esquire, Cuthbert Cholmondeley, in her highness’s
train, and was answered that he had not been seen since his departure
for Sion House. Greatly surprised by the intelligence, Lord Guilford
directed an attendant to make inquiries about him. After some time, the
man returned, stating that he could obtain no information respecting
him.
“This is very extraordinary,” said Lord Guilford. “Poor Cholmondeley!
What can have happened to him? As soon as this danger is past, I will
make personal search for him.”
“I thought he had left the Tower with you, my dear lord,” observed Jane.
“Would he had!” answered her husband. “I cannot help suspecting he has
incurred the enmity of the council, and has been secretly removed. I
will interrogate them on the subject tomorrow.”
While they were thus conversing, an usher appeared, and informed the
queen that a young damsel supplicated an audience having somewhat to
disclose of importance.
“You had better admit her, my queen,” said Dudley. “She may have
accidentally learned some plot which it is important for us to know.”
Jane having signified her assent, the usher withdrew, and presently
afterwards introduced Cicely. The young damsel, who appeared to have
suffered much, greatly interested the queen by her extreme beauty and
modesty. She narrated her story with infinite simplicity, and though she
blushed deeply when she came to speak of the love professed for her by
Cholmondeley, she attempted no concealment.
Both Jane and Lord Guilford Dudley were astonished beyond measure, when
they learned that the young esquire had been incarcerated by Nightgall;
and the latter was about to reproach Cicely for not having revealed the
circumstance before, when she accounted for her silence by stating
that she had been locked within her chamber, ever since the night in
question, by her mother. Her story ended, Dudley declared his intention
of seeking out the jailor without delay. “I will first compel him to
liberate his prisoner,” he said, “and will then inflict upon him a
punishment proportionate to his offence.”
“Alas!” exclaimed Cicely, bursting into tears, “I fear your lordship’s
assistance will come too late. Nightgall has visited me daily, and he
asserts that Master Cholmondeley has quitted the Tower by some secret
passage under the moat. I fear he has destroyed him.”
“If it be so, he shall die the death he merits,” replied Dudley. “You
say that the gigantic warders, whose lodging is in the By-ward Tower,
are acquainted with the dungeon. I will proceed thither at once, be of
good cheer, fair damsel. If your lover is alive he shall wed you on
the morrow, and I will put it out of Nightgall’s power to molest you
further. Remain with the queen till I return.”
“Ay, do so, child,” said Jane, “I shall be glad to have you with me.
And, if you desire it, you shall remain constantly near my person.”
“It is more happiness than I deserve, gracious madam,” replied Cicely,
dropping upon her knee. “And though your majesty has many attendants
more highly born, you will find none more faithful.”
“I fully believe it,” replied Jane, with a sigh. “Rise, damsel.
Henceforth you are one of my attendants.”
Cicely replied by a look of speechless gratitude, while summoning a
guard, Dudley proceeded to the By-ward Tower. The giants informed him
they had just returned from Nightgall’s lodging, and that he was
absent. He then commanded them to accompany him to the entrance of the
subterranean dungeons beneath the Devilin Tower.
“It will be useless to attempt to gain admission without the keys, my
lord,” replied Og; “and they are in master Nightgall’s keeping.”
“Has no one else a key? demanded Dudley, impatiently.
“No one, unless it be Gillian Mauger, the headsman,” replied Xit; “I
will bring him to your lordship, instantly.”
So saying, he hurried off in search of the executioner, while Dudley,
attended by the two giants, proceeded slowly in the direction of the
Beauchamp Tower. In a short time, the dwarf returned with Mauger, who
limped after him as quickly as a lame leg would permit. He had no key
of the dungeon, and on being questioned, declared there was no other
entrance to it.
“Break open the door instantly, then,” cried Dudley.
Mauger declared this was impossible, as it was cased with iron, and
fastened with a lock of great strength.
Magog, who was standing at a little distance with his arms folded upon
his breast, now stepped forward, and, without saying a word, lifted up
a large block of stone placed there to repair the walls, and hurling it
against the door, instantly burst it open.
“Bravely done,” cried Lord Guilford. “How can I reward the service?”
“I scarcely know how to ask it of your lordship,” rejoined Magog; “but
if you could prevail upon her majesty to issue her commands to Dame
Placida Paston to bestow her hand upon me, you would make me the
happiest of mankind.”
“If the dame be willing, surely she does not require enforcement,”
replied Dudley, laughing; “and if not”——
“She has half promised her hand to me, my lord,” said Xit, “and your
lordship can scarcely doubt to whom she would give the preference.”
“She has indeed a fair choice betwixt giant and dwarf I must own,”
replied Dudley. “But bring torches and follow me. More serious business
now claims my attention.”
“I will guide your lordship through these dungeons,” said Xit. “I have
often accompanied Master Nightgall in his visits, and can conduct you to
every cell.”
“Lead on then,” said Dudley.
After traversing a vast number of passages, and examining many cells,
all of which were vacant, they at length came to the dungeon where
Cholmondeley had been confined. Here they found Nightgall, who at first
attempted to exculpate himself, and made a variety of wild accusations
against the esquire, but when he found he was utterly disbelieved, he
confessed the whole truth. Dismissing some of his companions in search
of the esquire, who it was evident, if the jailor’s statement was to
be credited, must have lost himself in some of the passages. Dudley
was about to follow them, when Nightgall flung himself at his feet, and
offered, if his life were spared, to reveal all the secret practices
of the Council which had come to his knowledge. Dudley then ordered
the rest of his attendants to withdraw, and was so much astonished at
Nightgall’s communication, that he determined upon instantly conveying
him to the palace. After a long, but ineffectual search for Chomondeley,
whose escape has already been related, Dudley contented himself with
leaving Xit and Og to look for him; and placing Nightgall in the custody
of the two other giants, returned with him to the palace.
While this was passing, the queen had received an unexpected visit.
She had retired to her closet with Cicely, and was listening to a
recapitulation of the young damsel’s love affair, when the hangings were
suddenly drawn aside, and Simon Renard stepped from a masked door in
the wall. Surprise for a moment held her silent, and Cicely was so much
astonished by the appearance of the intruder, and so much alarmed by
his stern looks, that she stood like one petrified. Renard’s deportment,
indeed, was most formidable, and could not fail to impress them both
with terror. He said nothing for a moment, but fixed his black flaming
eyes menacingly on the queen. As she remained speechless, he motioned
Cicely to withdraw, and she would have obeyed had not Jane grasped her
arm and detained her.
“Do not leave me!” she cried, “or summon the guard.”
The words were no sooner spoken, than Renard drew his sword, and placed
himself between her and the door.
“I have little to say,” he observed;—“but I would have said it to you
alone. Since you will have a witness, I am content.”
By this time, Jane had recovered her confidence, and rising, she
confronted Renard with a look as stern and haughty as his own.
“What brings you here, sir,” she demanded; “and by what means have you
escaped from the White Tower?—Are my guards false to their trust?”
“It matters not how I have escaped,” replied Renard. “I am come hither
to warn you.”
“Of what?” asked Jane.
“Of the peril in which you stand,’” replied Renard. “You are no longer
queen. The Duke of Northumberland has disbanded his army, and has
himself proclaimed Mary.”
“It is false,” rejoined Jane.
“You will do well not to neglect my caution,” replied Renard. “As yet
the news is only known to me. To-morrow it will be known to all within
the Tower. Fly! while it is yet time.”
“No,” replied Jane, proudly. “Were your news true, which I doubt,
I would not fly. If I must resign my crown, it shall not be at your
bidding. But I am still a queen; and you shall feel that I am so.
Guards!” she cried in a loud voice, “Arrest this traitor.”
But before the door could be opened, Renard had darted behind the arras
and disappeared. Nor, upon searching the wall, could the attendants
discover by what means he had contrived his escape. Soon after this,
Lord Guilford Dudley returned, and his rage and consternation when he
learned what had occurred was unbounded. He flew to the White Tower,
where he found that Simon Renard, De Noailles, and the Earls of Pembroke
and Arundel, who had been confined in a small room adjoining the
council-chamber, had disappeared. The guards affirmed positively that
they were not privy to their flight, and unable to obtain any clue
to the mystery, Dudley returned in a state of great perplexity to the
palace, where a fresh surprise awaited him.
Jane had scarcely recovered from the surprise occasioned by Renard’s
mysterious visit, when an usher presented himself, and delivering a ring
to her, said that it had been given him by an old woman, who implored an
audience. Glancing at the ornament, the queen instantly recognised it as
that she had given to Gunnora Braose, and desired the attendant to admit
her. Accordingly, the old woman was introduced, and approaching Jane,
threw herself on her knees before her.
“What seek you, my good dame?” asked Jane. “I promised to grant any boon
you might ask. Are you come to claim fulfilment of my promise?”
“Listen to me, gracious lady,” said the old woman, “and do not slight
my counsel,—for what I am about to say to you is of the deepest import.
Your crown—your liberty—your life is in danger! The Council mean to
depose you on the morrow, and proclaim Mary queen. Call to mind the
warning I gave you before you entered this fatal fortress. My words have
come to pass. You are betrayed—lost!”
“Rise, my good woman,” said Jane, “and compose yourself. You may speak
the truth. My enemies may prevail against me, but they shall not
subdue me. It is now too late to retreat. Having accepted the crown, I
cannot—will not lay it aside, till it is wrested from me.”
“It will be wrested from you on the block, dear lady,” cried Gunnora.
“Listen to me, I beseech you. To-night you can make your retreat.
To-morrow it will be too late.”
“It is too late already,” cried a stern voice behind them, and Renard
again presented himself. He was accompanied by the Earl of Pembroke, and
Cholmondeley who was muffled in the jailer’s cloak. “Lady Jane Dudley,”
continued the ambassador, in an authoritative voice, “there is one means
of saving your life, and only one. Sign this document,” and he extended
a parchment towards her. “It is your abdication. Sign it, and I will
procure you a free pardon for yourself and your husband from Queen
Mary.”
“Mary is not queen,—nor will I sign it,” replied Jane. “Then hear me,”
replied Renard. “In Queen Mary’s name, I denounce you as an usurper. And
if you further attempt to exercise the functions of royalty, you will
not escape the block.”
“He does not overrate your danger,” interposed Gunnora.
“What make you here, old woman?” said Renard, addressing her.
“I have come on the same errand as yourself,” she replied, “to warn this
noble, but ill-advised lady of her peril.”
“Have you likewise informed her why you were brought to the Tower?”
demanded Renard, sternly.
“No,” replied Gunnora.
“Then she shall learn it from me,” continued the ambassador, “though
it is not the season I would have chosen for the disclosure. This woman
administered poison to your predecessor, Edward VI, by order of the Duke
of Northumberland.”
“It is false,” cried Jane, “I will not believe it.”
“It is true,” said Gunnora.
“Wretch! you condemn yourself,” said Jane.
“I know it,” rejoined Gunnora; “but place me on the rack, and I will
repeat the charge.”
“What motive could the duke have for so foul a crime?” demanded the
queen.
“This,” replied Gunnora; “he wished to remove the king so suddenly,
that the princesses Mary and Elizabeth might have no intelligence of his
decease. But this is not all, madam.”
“What more remains to be told?” asked Jane.
“You were to be the next victim,” returned the old woman.
“Northumberland aimed at the supreme power. With this view, he wedded
you to his son; with this view, he procured the letters patent from King
Edward declaring you his successor; with this view, he proclaimed you
queen, raised you to the throne, and would have made your husband king.
His next step was to have poisoned you.”
“Poisoned me!” exclaimed Jane, horror-stricken.
“Ay, poisoned you,” repeated Gunnora. “I was to administer the fatal
draught to you as I did to Edward. It was therefore I warned you not to
enter the Tower. It was therefore I counselled you to resign a sceptre
which I knew you could not sustain. I saw you decked out like a victim
for the sacrifice, and I strove to avert the fatal blow—but in vain.”
“Alas! I begin to find your words are true,” replied Jane. “But if aught
remains to me of power, if I am not a queen merely in name, I will now
exert it. My lord of Pembroke, I command you to summon the guard, and
arrest this traitor,” pointing to Simon Renard. “I will not sleep till I
have had his head. How, my lord, do you refuse to obey me? Hesitate, and
you shall share his doom.”
At this moment, Cholmondeley threw off his cloak, and advancing towards
the ambassador, said, “M. Simon Renard, you are the queen’s prisoner.”
“Cholmondeley!” exclaimed Renard, starting; “can it be?”
“It is, traitor,” replied the esquire; “but I will now unmask you and
your projects.”
“Back, sir!” cried Renard, in a tone so authoritative that all were
overawed by it. “Lay hands upon me, and I give a signal which will
cause a general massacre, in which none of Queen Mary’s enemies will
be spared. Lady Jane Dudley,” he continued, addressing her, “I give you
till to-morrow to reflect upon what course you will pursue. Resign the
crown you have wrongfully assumed, and I pledge my word to obtain your
pardon. But Northumberland’s life is forfeited, and that of all his
race.”
“Think you I will sacrifice my husband, traitor?” cried Jane. “Seize
him,” she added, to Cholmondeley.
But before the young man could advance, Renard had unsheathed his sword,
and placed himself in a posture of defence. “Lady Jane Dudley,” he
ejaculated, “I give you till to-morrow. Your own conduct will decide
your fate.”
“Call the guard,” cried Jane.
The young esquire vainly endeavoured to obey this command, but he was
attacked and beaten off by the ambassador and the Earl of Pembroke,
who quickly retreating towards the masked door, passed through it, and
closed it after them. At this juncture, Lord Guilford Dudley returned
at the head of the guard. The occurrences of the last few minutes were
hastily explained to him, and he was about to break open the secret
door, when Nightgall said, “If I have a free pardon, I will conduct your
lordship to the secret retreat of the Council, and unravel a plot which
shall place them in your power.”
“Do this,” replied Lord Guilford, “and you shall not only have a free
pardon, but a great reward.”
“Take a sufficient guard with you, and follow me,” rejoined Nightgall.
Dudley complied, and the party proceeded on their errand, while
Cholmondeley remained with the queen and Cicely; and although his
transports at beholding her again were somewhat alloyed by the perilous
position in which Jane stood, he nevertheless tasted sufficient
happiness to recompense him in some degree for his recent misery.
Withdrawing to another apartment, Jane awaited in the utmost anxiety
her husband’s return. This did not occur for some hours, and when he
appeared she saw at once, from his looks, that his search had been
unsuccessful.
The remainder of the night was passed between the queen and her consort
in anxious deliberation. Cholmondeley was entrusted with the command of
the guard, and after a few hours’ rest and other refreshment, of which
he stood greatly in need, he proceeded with Lord Clinton, who still
apparently remained firm in his adherence, to make the rounds of the
Tower. Nothing unusual was noticed: the sentinels were at their posts.
But as Cholmondeley looked towards Tower-hill, he fancied he observed a
great crowd assembled, and pointed out the appearance to Lord Clinton,
who seemed a little confused, but declared he could perceive nothing.
Cholmondeley, however, was satisfied that he was not deceived; but
apprehending no danger from the assemblage, he did not press the point.
Towards daybreak he again looked out in the same quarter, but the mob
had disappeared. Meanwhile, Gunnora Braose had been conducted to the
Bowyer Tower, and locked within the chamber she had occupied, while
Nightgall was placed in strict confinement.
XVI.—HOW THE COUNCIL DEPOSED QUEEN JANE; AND HOW SHE FLED FROM THE
TOWER.
At length, the last morning which was to behold Jane queen dawned, and
after an agitated and sleepless night, she addressed herself to her
devotions, and endeavoured to prepare for the dangerous and difficult
part she had to play. The Duke of Suffolk tried to persuade her to
abdicate. But her husband, who, it has been already observed, inherited
his father’s ambitious nature, besought her not to part with the crown.
“It has been dearly purchased,” he urged, “and must be boldly
maintained. Let us meet the Council courageously, and we shall triumph.”
To this Jane assented. But it was evident from her manner she had but
slight hopes.
At an early hour the lord mayor, the aldermen, and all the civic
authorities who had been summoned, arrived. Cranmer and Ridley came
soon after. The Council were then summoned, and by ten o’clock all were
assembled, excepting the Earls of Pembroke and Arundel, Simon Renard,
and De Noailles. As soon as Jane was seated beneath the state canopy,
she ordered a pursuivant to summon them. Proclamation being made, a stir
was heard at the lower end of the council-chamber, and the absentees
presented themselves. All four advanced boldly towards the throne, and
took their place among the Council. Jane then arose, and with great
dignity and self-possession thus-addressed the assemblage:—
“My lords,” she said, “I have summoned you it may be for the last
time, to deliberate on the course to be pursued to check the formidable
tumults and rebellions that have been moved against me and my crown.
Of that crown I cannot doubt I have lawful possession, since it was
tendered me by your lordships, who have all sworn allegiance to me.
Fully confiding, therefore, in your steadiness to my service, which
neither with honour, safety, nor duty, you can now forsake, I look to
you for support in this emergency.”
Here a murmur arose among the Council.
“What!” exclaimed Jane: “do you desert me at the hour of need? Do you
refuse me your counsel and assistance?”
“We do,” replied several voices.
“Traitors!” exclaimed Lord Guilford Dudley: “you have passed your own
sentence.”
“Not so, my lord,” replied Simon Renard. “It is you who have condemned
yourself. Lady Jane Dudley,” he continued in a loud voice, “you who have
wrongfully usurped the title and station of queen,—in your presence I
proclaim Mary, sister to the late king Edward the Sixth, and daughter
of Henry the Eighth of famous memory, Queen of England and Ireland, and
very owner of the crown, government, and title of England and Ireland,
and all things thereunto belonging.”
“God save Queen Mary!” cried the Council.
A few dissentient voices were raised. But the Earl of Pembroke drew
his sword, and cried in a loud voice, “As heaven shall help me, I will
strike that man dead who refuses to shout for Queen Mary.” And he threw
his cap in the air.
“Hear me,” continued Renard, “and learn that resistance is in vain. I
hereby proclaim a free pardon, in Queen Mary’s name, to all who shall
freely acknowledge her,—excepting always the family of the Duke of
Northumberland, who is a traitor, and upon whose head a price is set. I
require your Grace,” he added to Suffolk, “to deliver up the keys of the
Tower.”
“They are here,” replied the Duke, pointing to Magog who bore them.
“Do you yield, my lord?” cried Lord Guilford, passionately.
“It is useless to contend further,” replied Suffolk. “All is lost.”
“True,” replied Jane. “My lords, I resign the crown into your hands; and
Heaven grant you may prove more faithful to Mary than you have been
to me. In obedience to you, my lord,” she continued, addressing her
husband, “I acted a violence on myself, and have been guilty of a
grievous offence. But the present is my own act. And I willingly
abdicate the throne to correct another’s fault, if so great a fault can
be corrected by my resignation and sincere acknowledgment.”
“You shall not abdicate it, Jane,” cried Dudley, fiercely. “I will not
yield. Stand by me, Cholmondeley, and these audacious traitors shall
find I am still master here. Let those who are for Queen Jane surround
the throne.”
As he spoke, he glanced round authoritatively, but no one stirred.
“Speak!” he cried, in accents of rage and disappointment. “Are ye all
traitors? Is no one true to his allegiance?”
But no answer was returned.
“They are no traitors, my lord,” said Simon Renard. “They are loyal
subjects of Queen Mary.”
“He speaks truly, my dear lord,” replied Jane. “It is useless to contend
further. I am no longer queen.”
So saying, she descended from the throne.
“My lords,” she continued, addressing the Council, “you are now masters
here. Have I your permission to retire?”
“You have, noble lady,” replied Pembroke. “But it grieves me to add,
that you must perforce remain within the Tower till the pleasure of her
Highness respecting you has been ascertained.”
“A prisoner!” exclaimed Jane, trembling. “And my husband, you will
suffer him to accompany me?”
“It cannot be,” interposed Simon Renard, harshly; “Lord Guilford Dudley
must be separately confined.”
“You cannot mean this cruelty, sir?” cried Jane, indignantly. “Do not
sue for me, Jane,” rejoined Dudley. “I will not accept the smallest
grace at his hands.”
“Guards!” cried Renard, “I command you, in Queen Mary’s name, to arrest
Lord Guilford Dudley, and convey him to the Beauchamp Tower.”
The order was instantly obeyed. Jane then took a tender farewell of her
husband, and accompanied by Cicely and Cholmondeley, and others of her
attendants, was escorted to the palace.,
She had no sooner taken her departure, than letters were despatched by
the Council to the Duke of Northumberland, commanding him instantly to
disband his army. And the Earl of Arundel was commissioned to proceed
with a force to arrest him.
“I have a brave fellow who shall accompany your lordship,” said Renard,
motioning to Gilbert, who stood among his followers.
“Hark’ee, sirrah!” he added, “you have already approved your fidelity to
Queen Mary. Approve it still further by the capture of the Duke, and,
in the Queen’s name, I promise you a hundred pounds in lands to you and
your heirs, and the degree of an esquire. And now, my lords, to publicly
proclaim Queen Mary.”
With this the whole train departed from the Tower, and proceeded to
Cheapside, where, by sound of trumpet, the new sovereign was proclaimed
by the title of “Mary, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender
of the Faith.”
Shouts rent the air, and every manifestation of delight was exhibited.
“Great was the triumph,” writes an eye-witness of the ceremony; “for my
part, I never saw the like, and, by the report of others, the like was
never seen. The number of caps that were thrown up at the proclamation
was not to be told. The Earl of Pembroke threw away his cap full of
angels. I saw myself money thrown out of the windows for joy. The
bonfires were without number; and what with shouting and crying of
the people, and ringing of bells, there could no man hear almost what
another said—besides banquetting, and skipping the streets for joy.”
The proclamation over, the company proceeded to St. Paul’s, where Te
Deum was solemnly sung. It is a curious illustration of the sudden
change of feeling, that the Duke of Suffolk himself proclaimed Mary on
Tower Hill.
The utmost confusion reigned throughout the Tower. Some few there were
who regretted the change of sovereigns, but the majority were in favour
of Mary. Northumberland in fact was so universally hated by all classes,
and it was so notorious that the recent usurpation was contrived
only for his own aggrandisement, that though Jane was pitied, no
commiseration was felt for her husband or her ambitious father-in-law.
Great rejoicings were held in the Tower-green, where an immense bonfire
was lighted, and a whole ox roasted. Several casks of ale were also
broached, and mead and other liquors were distributed to the warders
and the troops. Of these good things the three gigantic warders and Xit
partook; and Magog was so elated, that he plucked up courage to propose
to Dame Placida, and, to the dwarf’s infinite dismay and mortification,
was accepted. Lord Guilford Dudley witnessed these rejoicings from the
windows of the Beauchamp Tower, in which he was confined; and as he
glanced upon the citadel opposite his prison, now lighted up by the
gleams of the fire, he could not help reflecting with bitterness what a
change a few days had effected. The voices which only nine days ago had
shouted for Jane, were now clamouring for Mary; and of the thousands
which then would have obeyed his slightest nod, not one would
acknowledge him now.
From a prince he had become a captive, and his palace was converted
into a dungeon. Such were the agonizing thoughts of Northumberland’s
ambitious son,—and such, or nearly such, were those of his unhappy
consort, who, in her chamber in the palace was a prey to the bitterest
reflection.
Attended only by Cholmondeley and Cicely, Jane consumed the evening in
sad, but unavailing lamentations. About midnight, as she had
composed her thoughts by applying herself to her wonted solace in
affliction—study, she was aroused by a noise in the wall, and presently
afterwards a masked door opened, and Gunnora Braose presented herself.
Jane instantly rose, and demanded the cause of the intrusion. Gunnora
laid her finger on her lips, and replied in a low tone, “I am come to
liberate you.”
“I do not desire freedom,” replied Jane, “neither will I trust myself to
you. I will abide here till my cousin Mary makes her entrance into the
Tower, and I will then throw myself upon her mercy.”
“She will show you no mercy,” rejoined Gunnora. “Do not, I implore of
you, expose yourself to the first outbreak of her jealous and vindictive
nature. Queen Mary inherits her father’s inexorable disposition, and
I am well assured if you tarry here, you will fall a victim to her
displeasure. Do not neglect this opportunity, sweet lady. In a few hours
it may be too late.”
“Accept her offer, gracious madam,” urged Cicely, “it may be your last
chance of safety. You are here surrounded by enemies.”
“But how am I to escape from the fortress, if I accede to your wishes?”
replied Jane.
“Follow me, and I will conduct you,” answered Gunnora. “I have possessed
myself of the key of a subterranean passage which will convey you to the
other side of the moat.”
“But my husband?” hesitated Jane.
“Do not think of him,” interrupted Gunnora, frowning. “He deserted you
in the hour of danger. Let him perish on the scaffold with his false
father.”
“Leave me, old woman,” said Jane authoritatively; “I will not go with
you.”
“Do not heed her, my gracious mistress,” urged Cholmondeley, “your
tarrying here cannot assist Lord Guilford, and will only aggravate his
affliction. Besides, some means may be devised for his escape.”
“Pardon what I have said, dear lady,” said Gunnora. “Deadly as is the
hatred I bear to the house of Northumberland, for your sweet sake I will
forgive his son. Nay more, I will effect his deliverance. This I swear
to you. Come with me, and once out of the Tower make what haste you can
to Sion House, where your husband shall join you before the morning.”
“You promise more than you can accomplish,” said Jane.
“That remains to be seen, madam,” replied Gunuora: “but were it not that
he is your husband, Lord Guilford Dudley should receive no help from me.
Once more, will you trust me?”
“I will,” replied Jane.
Cholmondeley then seized a torch, and fastening the door of the chamber,
on the outside of which a guard was stationed, assisted Jane through
the masked door. Preceded by the old woman, who carried a lamp, they
threaded a long narrow passage built in the thickness of the wall, and
presently arrived at the head of a flight of stairs, which brought them
to a long corridor arched and paved with stone. Traversing this, they
struck into an avenue on the right, exactly resembling one of those
which Cholmondeley had recently explored. Jane expressed her surprise
at the vast extent of the passages she was threading, when Gunnora
answered—“The whole of the Tower is undermined with secret passages and
dungeons, but their existence is known only to few.’”
A few minutes’ rapid walking brought them to a stone staircase, which
they mounted, traversed another gallery, and finally halted before a low
gothic-arched door, which admitted them to the interior of the Bowyer
Tower. Requesting Cholmondeley to assist her, Gunnora, with his help,
speedily raised a trap-door of stone, and disclosed a flight of steps.
While they were thus employed, a strange and unaccountable terror took
possession of Jane. As she glanced timidly towards the doorway she had
just quitted, she imagined she saw a figure watching her, and in the
gloom almost fancied it was the same muffled object she had beheld in
St. John’s Chapel. A superstitious terror kept her silent. As she
looked more narrowly at the figure, she thought it bore an axe upon
its shoulder, and she was about to point it out to her companions, when
making a gesture of silence it disappeared. By this time the trap-door
being raised, Cholmondeley descended the steps with the torch, while
Gunnora holding back the flag, begged her to descend. But Jane did not
move.
0146
“Do not lose time,” cried the old woman, “we may be followed, and
retaken.”
Still Jane hesitated. She cast another look towards the doorway, and
the idea crossed her, that from that very outlet she should be led to
execution. A deadly chill pervaded her frame,-and her feet seemed nailed
to the ground. Seeing her irresolution, Cicely threw herself on her
knees before her, and implored her to make an effort. Jane advanced a
step, and then paused. After remaining a moment in deep abstraction, she
turned to Cicely, and said,—.
“Child, I thank you for your zeal, but I feel it is useless. Though I
may escape from the Tower, I cannot escape my fate.” Cicely, however,
renewed her entreaties, and seconded by Chomondeley she at length
prevailed. Pursuing the same course which Gunnora had taken on the night
she was brought to the Tower by Simon Renard, they at length arrived at
the shed at the further side of the moat.
“You are now safe,” said Gunnora. “Hasten to Sion House, and if my plan
does not fail, your husband shall join you there before many hours have
passed.”
So saying, she departed. Jane and her attendants crossed Tower
Hill, from which she turned to gaze at the scene of her greatness,
indistinctly visible in the gloom—and so agonizing were the thoughts
occasioned by the sight that she burst into tears. As soon as she had
recovered from her paroxysm of grief, they proceeded to the river side,
where they fortunately procured a boat, and were rowed towards Sion
House.