While the great outbreak was thus deferred, it was deemed expedient to
liberate Courtenay as soon as possible. Such were the precautions taken
by the vigilant Sir Henry Bedingfeld, that this was not so easy of
accomplishment as it appeared on the onset. At length, however, all was
arranged, and Xit was despatched to the earl to tell him the attempt
might be made on the following night, when unluckily, just as the
mannikin had entered the chimney, one of the guards awakened, and
hearing a noise, flew to see what occasioned it. Exerting his utmost
agility, the dwarf was soon out of reach, and the attendant could not
distinguish his person, but he instantly gave the alarm.
Flying for his life, Xit got out of the chimney, hurried along the tops
of the ramparts, and jumping at the hazard of his neck, into the tree,
reached the ground just as the alarm was given to the sentinels. It
was past midnight. But Sir Henry Bedingfeld, aroused from his couch,
instantly repaired to the chamber of his prisoner. Nothing could be
found but the rope by which Xit had descended, and which in his hasty
retreat he had not been able to remove. Courtenay refused to answer any
interrogations respecting his visiter, and after a long and fruitless
search, the lieutenant departed.
The next day, the occurrence was made known to the queen, and at her
request Simon Renard visited the prisoner. Not thinking his place of
confinement secure enough, Renard suggested that he should be removed to
the Bell Tower,—a fortification flanking the lieutenant’s habitation on
the west, and deriving its name, as has already been mentioned, from the
alarm-bell of the fortress, which was placed in a small wooden belfry
on its roof. This tower is still in existence, and devoted to the
same purpose as of old,—though its chambers, instead of being used as
prison-lodgings, form the domestic offices of the governor. In shape it
is circular, like all the other towers, with walls of great thickness
pierced by narrow loopholes, admitting light to the interior. Courtenay
was confined in a small room on the basement floor, having a vaulted
roof supported by pointed arches of curious construction, with deep
recesses in the intervals. From this strong and gloomy cell it seemed
impossible he could escape; and having seen him placed within it, Renard
departed fully satisfied.
0305
When the intelligence of the earl’s removal was brought to De Noailles,
he was greatly disheartened; but Xit bade him be of good cheer, as he
still felt certain of effecting his deliverance. Some time, however,
elapsed before any new scheme could be devised; when one night Xit
appeared with a smiling countenance, and said he had found means of
communicating with the prisoner. On being questioned as to how he had
contrived this, he replied that he had crept up to a loophole opening
into the earl’s chamber, and filed away one of the iron bars; and though
the aperture was not large enough to allow a full-grown man to pass
through it, he had done so without inconvenience, and under cover of
night without being perceived. He then proceeded to detail a somewhat
hazardous plan of flight, which Courtenay had determined to risk,
provided his friends would second the attempt. All the earl required
was, that a well-manned boat should be in waiting for him near the
Tower-wharf, to put off the instant he reached it.
After some consideration, this plan was held feasible, and Sir Thomas
Wyat undertook the command of the boat. A dark night being indispensable
for the enterprise, the third from that time, when there would be no
moon, was chosen; and this arrangement was communicated by the dwarf
to Courtenay. Measures were then concerted between the earl and his
assistant, and all being settled, it was agreed, to avoid heedless risk,
that the latter should not return again till the appointed night.
On its arrival, Xit, as soon as it grew dark, crept through the
loophole, and found the earl impatiently expecting him. He was alone,
for since his removal to so strong a prison it was deemed needless to
have an attendant constantly with him. Xit brought him a rapier and
dagger, and a long coil of rope, and when he had armed himself with the
weapons, they proceeded to the execution of their project. Knocking at
the door, the earl summoned the warder who was stationed outside. The
man immediately obeyed the call, and as he opened the door Xit crept
behind it, and while Courtenay engaged the warder’s attention, he
slipped out, and concealed himself behind a projection in the winding
stairs. The earl having made a demand which he knew would compel the
warder to proceed to Sir Henry Bedingfeld, dismissed him.
Quitting the cell, the warder, who had no suspicions, locked the door,
leaving the key,—as had been foreseen,—within it. He then ascended the
stairs, and passed close to Xit without perceiving him. As soon as he
was gone, the dwarf unlocked the door, and made good his own retreat
through the loophole; it being necessary he should give the signal to
the party on the river.
Courtenay then hurried up the winding steps. On reaching the upper
chamber, he perceived it was vacant—but the open door showed him that
the warder had just passed through it. Hastily shutting it, and barring
it withinside, he mounted a short flight of steps leading to the roof,
where he knew a sentinel who had charge of the alarm-bell was stationed.
Before the man, who was leaning upon his partizan, could utter an
exclamation, Courtenay snatched the weapon from him, and dealt him a
blow that stretched him senseless at his feet. He then quickly fastened
the rope to one of the stout wooden supporters of the belfry, and
flinging the coil over the battlements, prepared to descend by it.
Possessed of great strength and activity, and materially aided by the
roughened surface of the old walls, and other irregularities in the
structure, against which he placed his feet, the earl reached the ground
in safety. He was now in the outer ward, near the By-ward Tower. It was
so dark that his descent had not been noticed, but he perceived several
soldiers passing at a little distance from him, from whose remarks he
gathered that they were about to convey the keys of the fortress to the
lieutenant.
As soon as they had passed him, he rushed across the ward in the
direction of the arched passage leading to the drawbridge. Here he
encountered Og, who was on guard at the time. The gigantic warder
immediately challenged him, and presented his huge halbert at his
breast. But the earl, without making any reply, stooped down, and
before he could be prevented, darted through his legs. Og, in a voice
of thunder, gave the alarm, and was instantly answered by a party of
halberdiers, who rushed out of the adjoining guard-room. They were all
armed, some with pikes, some with arquebusses, and snatching a torch
from the soldier nearest him, Og darted after the fugitive.
By this time, the earl’s flight from the Bell Tower had been discovered.
On his return, finding the door barred withinside, the warder suspected
something wrong, and gave the alarm. A few seconds sufficed to the
men-at-arms to break down the door with their bills, and they then found
what had occurred. The alarm-bell was instantly rung, and word passed
to the sentinels on the By-ward Tower, and on the other fortifications,
that the Earl of Devonshire had escaped. In an instant, all was in
motion. Torches gleamed along the whole line of ramparts; shouts were
heard in every direction; and soldiers hastened to each point whence it
was conceived likely he would attempt to break forth.
Before relating the result of the attempt, it may be proper to advert to
what had been done in furtherance of it by Xit. Having got through the
loophole as before related, the dwarf pursued the course subsequently
taken by Courtenay, made a hasty excuse to Og, and crossed the
drawbridge just before it was raised. Approaching the side of the river,
he drew a petronel, and flashing it, the signal was immediately answered
by the sound of muffled oars; and Xit, whose gaze was steadfastly bent
upon the stream, could just detect a boat approaching the strand. The
next moment, Sir Thomas Wyat sprang ashore, and as Xit was explaining
to him in a whisper what had occurred, the alarm was given as above
related.
It was a moment of intense interest to all concerned in the enterprise,
and Wyat held himself in readiness for action. On reaching the
drawbridge and finding it raised, Courtenay without hesitation bounded
over the rails, and plunging into the moat, struck out towards the
opposite bank.
0308
At this juncture, Og and his companions arrived at the outlet. The giant
held his torch over the moat, and perceived the earl swimming across it.
A soldier beside him levelled his arquebuss at the fugitive, and would
have fired, but Og checked him, crying, “Beware how you harm the queen’s
favourite. It is the Earl of Devonshire. Seize him, but injure him
not—or dread her majesty’s displeasure.”
The caution, however, was unheeded by those on the summit of the By-ward
Tower. Shots were fired from it, and the balls speckled the surface of
the water, but without doing any damage. One of Wyat’s crew hastened to
the edge of the moat, and throwing a short line into the water, assisted
the earl to land.
While this was passing, the drawbridge was lowered, and Og and his
companions rushed across it—too late, however, to secure the fugitive.
As soon as Courtenay had gained a footing on the wharf, Sir Thomas
Wyat seized his hand, and hurried him towards the boat, into which they
leaped. The oars were then plunged into the water, and before their
pursuers gained the bank, the skiff had shot to some distance from it.
Another boat was instantly manned and gave chase, but without effect.
The obscurity favoured the fugitives. Wyat directed his men to pull
towards London Bridge, and they soon disappeared beneath its narrow
arches.
XIX.—HOW QUEEN MARY VISITED THE LIONS’ TOWER; HOW MAGOG GAVE HIS DAME A
LESSON; AND HOW XIT CONQUERED A MONKEY, AND WAS WORSTED BY A BEAR.
Courtenay’s escape from the Tower created almost as much sensation as
his imprisonment had done; and while his partisans were cheered by it,
his enemies were proportionately discouraged. Several bands of soldiers,
headed by trusty leaders, were sent in pursuit of him in different
directions; but no trace could be discovered of the course he had taken;
nor could all the vigilance of Sir Henry Bedingfeld detect who had
assisted him in his flight. After some time, as no tidings were heard of
him, it was concluded he had embarked for France. Inspired by jealousy,
Mary immediately sent an order to Ashbridge to double the guard over her
sister; and she secretly instructed Sir Edward Hastings, in case of any
attempt to set her free, to convey her instantly to the Tower. Elizabeth
either was severely indisposed, or feigned to be so, and it was bruited
abroad that poison had been given her. This rumour, which obtained
general credence, as well as others to the effect that her life had been
attempted by different means, at length reached the queen’s ears, and
occasioned her great distress and annoyance. To remove the suspicion,
she commanded Elizabeth’s appearance at court. And though the princess
would fain have refused, she was compelled to obey.
Some weeks had now elapsed since Courtenay’s flight, and during that
time the queen’s anger had so much abated, that Gardiner thought he
might venture to solicit his pardon, he-presenting to her, that she had
already punished him sufficiently by the disgrace she had inflicted upon
him, and that it was desirable to give no pretext for tumult during
the momentous discussions which would take place on the meeting of
parliament,—then immediately about to be assembled,—he urged his suit so
warmly, that in the end Mary consented to pardon the carl, provided he
appeared at court within three days.
Intelligence of the queen’s change of feeling was soon conveyed to
Courtenay, who had been concealed in an obscure lodging in London, and
on the second day he presented himself before her. Mary received him
graciously but coldly, and in such a manner as to convince him and his
friends, if they still indulged any such hopes, that a restoration to
the place he had once held in her affections was out of the question.
“If you are disposed to travel, my lord,” she said, sarcastically, “I
will take care you have such appointments to foreign courts as will best
suit your age and inclination.”
“Your Majesty has perchance some delicate mission at the Court
of Madrid, which you desire me to execute,” replied the earl,
significantly.
“Had I any mission to that court,” replied the Queen, repressing her
emotion, “it is not to your hands I should entrust it. You have offended
me once, Courtenay. Beware how you do so a second time. Abandon all
hopes of Elizabeth. She never can be—never shall be yours.”
“That remains to be seen,” muttered Courtenay as he quitted the
presence.
The interview over, Courtenay was joined by De Noailles, and, from
that moment, he surrendered himself unresistingly to the designs of the
artful ambassador.
Mary had now removed her court to Whitehall. But she frequently visited
the Tower, and appeared to prefer its gloomy chambers to the gorgeous
halls in her other palaces. One night, an order was received by Hairun,
the bearward, who had charge of the wild animals, that, on the following
day, the Queen would visit the menagerie. Preparations were accordingly
made for her reception; and the animals were deprived of their supper,
that they might exhibit an unusual degree of ferocity. But though Hairun
starved the wild beasts, he did not act in like manner towards himself.
On the contrary, he deemed it a fitting occasion to feast his-friends,
and accordingly invited Magog, his dame, the two other giants, Xit,
Ribald, and the pantler and his spouse, to take their evening meal with
him. The invitation was gladly accepted; and about the hour of a modern
dinner, the guests repaired to the bearward’s lodgings, which were
situated in the basement chamber of the Lions’ Tower. Of this structure,
nothing but an arched embrasure, once overlooking the lesser moat, and
another subterranean room, likewise boasting four deep arched recesses,
but constantly flooded with water, now remain. A modern dwelling-house,
tenanted by the former keeper of the menagerie in the fortress, occupies
the site of the ancient fabric.
Aware of the appetites of his friends, and being no despicable
trencherman himself, Hairun had provided accordingly. The principal dish
was a wild boar, a present to the bearward from Sir Henry Bedingfeld,
which having been previously soaked for a fortnight, in a mixture of
vinegar, salt, bruised garlic, and juniper-berries, was roasted whole
under the personal superintendence of Peter Trusbut, who predicted it
would prove delicious eating—and the result proved him no false prophet.
On the appearance of this magnificent dish, which succeeded the first
course of buttered stock-fish, and mutton pottage, a murmur of delight
pervaded the company. The eyes of the giants glistened, their mouths
watered, and they grasped their knives and forks like men preparing for
a combat to the utterance. Magog had seated himself as far from his wife
as possible. But she was too much engrossed by the assiduous attention,
of Ribald, to take any particular notice of him.
Peter Trusbut, as usual, officiated as carver. And the manner in which
he distributed slices of the savoury and juicy meat, which owing to the
preparation it had undergone, had a tenderness and mellowness wholly
indescribable, with modicums of the delicate fat, elicited the host’s
warmest approbation. The giants spoke not a word; and even the ladies
could only express their delight by interjections. Reserving certain
delicate morsels for himself, Peter Trusbut, with a zeal worthy of
the cause in which he was engaged, continued to ply his knife so
unremittingly, that no one’s plate was for a moment empty, and yet with
all this employment, he did not entirely forget himself. Hairun was in
ecstacies; and while the giants were still actively engaged, he placed
before them enormous goblets filled with bragget, a drink composed of
strong ale sweetened with honey, spiced and flavoured with herbs. At
the first pause, the gigantic brethren drained their cups; and they
were promptly replenished by the hospitable bearward. By this time, the
greater part of the boar had disappeared. Its well-flavoured back and
fattened flanks were gone, and the hams and head alone remained. Seeing
that the other guests were satisfied, the pantler, with some little
labour, hewed off the two legs, and giving one to each of the unmarried
giants, assigned the head to Magog.
“Mauger himself never did his office with greater dexterity than you
have displayed in decapitating that wild boar, master pantler,” observed
Magog, smiling as he received the welcome gift.
“You are not going to eat all that, you insatiable cormorant,” cried his
dame, from the other end of the table.
“Indeed, but I am, sweetheart,” replied Magog, commencing operations on
the cheek; “wherefore not?”
“Wherefore not,” screamed Dame Placida, “because you’ll die of an
apoplexy, and I shall be a second time a widow.”
“No matter,” replied the giant, “I’m weary of life, and cannot end it
more comfortably.—I’ll eat in spite of her,” he added, half aloud.
This last remark, in spite of Ribald’s interference, might have called
forth some practical rejoinder on the part of his wife, had not her
attention and that of the rest of the company been drawn, at the moment,
towards Xit. Amongst other animals allowed to range about the bearward’s
house, was a small mischievous ape. This creature had seated itself
behind Xit’s chair, where it made the most grotesque grimaces in
imitation of the mannikin. The guests were at first too much occupied to
take any notice of its proceedings, and Xit, wholly unconscious of
its presence, pursued his repast in tranquillity. The more substantial
viands disposed of, he helped himself to some roasted chesnuts, and
was greedily munching them, when the monkey stretched its arm over his
shoulder, and snatched a handful.
Astonished and alarmed at the occurrence, Xit turned to regard the
intruder. But when he perceived the ape’s grinning face close to his
own, and heard the shouts and laughter of the assemblage, his fear
changed to anger, and he immediately attempted to regain what had been
pilfered from him. But the monkey was not inclined to part with his
spoil, and a struggle of a very comical kind ensued. Xit seized the
monkey’s paws, and tried to get back the chesnuts, while the latter,
gibbering and grinning horribly, laid hold of the mannikin’s shock head
of hair, and after lugging him tremendously, tore up a large lock by the
roots. Enraged by the pain, Xit tried to draw his sword, but finding
it impossible, he grasped the beast by both ears, and despite its
struggling, squealing, and attempts to bite, succeeded in keeping it at
bay.
What might have been the result of the conflict it is impossible to say.
But just as Xit’s strength was failing, Hairun flew to his assistance,
and partly by threats, partly by the application of a switch to its
back, drove the monkey into a corner. Xit was highly complimented for
his courage, and though he occasionally rubbed his head, these encomiums
entirely reconciled him to the loss of his hair. Magog, who cherished
some little resentment for his former tricks, laughed immoderately at
the incident, and said, “My beard is already grown again, but it will be
a long time before thy rough poll regains its accustomed appearance. Ha!
ha!”
In this way, the meal was concluded, and it was followed by a plentiful
supply of ale, hydromel, bragget, and wine. Nor did Peter Trusbut
forget to slip the stone bottle of distilled water into Magog’s
hand, recommending him on no account to let Xit taste it—a suggestion
scrupulously observed by the giant. His guests having passed a
merry hour over their cups, Hairun proposed to conduct them over the
menagerie, that they might see what condition the animals were in.
The proposal was eagerly accepted, and providing torches, the bearward
led them into a small court, communicating by a low arched door with the
menagerie. It was then as now, (for the modern erection, which is still
standing though wholly unused, followed the arrangement of the ancient
structure, and indeed retains some of the old stone arches), a wide
semicircular fabric, in which were contrived, at distances of a few feet
apart, a number of arched cages, divided into two or more compartments,
and secured by strong iron bars.
0314
A high embattled wall of the same form as the inner structure faced on
the west a small moat, now filled up, which flowed round these outworks
from the base of the Middle Tower to a fortification, now also removed,
called, from its situation, the Lions’ Gate, where it joined the larger
moat.
Opposite the dens stood a wide semicircular gallery, defended by a low
stone parapet, and approached by a flight of steps from the back. It was
appropriated exclusively to the royal use.
The idea of maintaining a menagerie within the Tower, as an appendage
to their state, was, in all probability derived by our monarchs, as
has been previously intimated, from the circumstance of the Emperor
Frederick having presented Henry the Third with three leopards, in
allusion to his coat of arms, which animals were afterwards carefully
kept within the fortress. Two orders from this sovereign to the sheriffs
of London, in reference to a white bear, which formed part of his live
stock, are preserved; the first, dated 1253, directing that fourpence a
day (a considerable sum for the period) be allowed for its sustenance;
and tho second, issued in the following year, commanding “that for the
keeper of our white bear, lately sent us from Norway, and which is in
our Tower of London, ye cause to be had one muzzle and one iron chain,
to hold that bear without the water; and one long and strong cord to
hold the same bear when fishing in the river of Thames.” Other mandates
relating to an elephant appear in the same reign, in one of which it is
directed—“that ye cause without delay to be built at our Tower of London
one house of forty feet long, and twenty feet deep, for our elephant;
providing that it be so made and so strong, that when need be, it may be
fit and necessary for other uses. And the cost shall be computed at the
Exchequer.” A fourth order appoints that the animal and his keeper shall
be found with such necessaries “as they shall reasonably require.” The
royal menagerie was greatly increased by Edward the Third, who added to
it, amongst other animals, a lion and lioness, a leopard, and two wild
cats; and in the reign of Henry the Sixth the following provisions
was made for the keeper:—“We of our special grace have granted to our
beloved servant, Robert Mansfield, esquire, marshall of our hall, the
office of keeper of the lions, with a certain place which hath been
appointed anciently within our said Tower for them; to have and to
occupy the same, by himself or by his sufficient deputy, for the term of
his life, with the wages of sixpence per day for himself, and with the
wages of sixpence per day for the maintenance of every lion or leopard
now being in his custody, or that shall be in his custody hereafter.”
From this it will appear that no slight importance was attached to the
office, which was continued until recent times, when the removal of the
menagerie rendered it wholly unnecessary.
Dazzled by the lights, and infuriated with hunger, the savage denizens
of the cages set up a most terrific roaring as the party entered the
flagged space in front of them. Hairun, who was armed with a stout
staff, laid about him in right earnest, and soon produced comparative
tranquillity. Still, the din was almost deafening. The animals were
numerous, and fine specimens of their kind. There were lions in all
postures,—couchant, dormant, passant, and guardant; tigers, leopards,
hyaenas, jackals, lynxes, and bears. Among the latter, an old brown
bear, presented to Henry the Eighth by the Emperor Maximilian, and
known by the name of the imperial donor, particularly attracted their
attention, from its curious tricks. At last, after much solicitation
from Dames Placida and Potentia, the bearward opened the door of the
cage, and old Max issued forth. At first, he was all gentleness, sat
upon his hind legs, and received the apples and biscuits given him like
a lap-dog, when all at once, his master having stepped aside to quell
a sudden disturbance which had arisen in one of the adjoining cages, he
made a dart at Dame Placida, who was standing near him, and devouring
the fruit and cakes she held in her hand at a mouthful, would have given
her a formidable hug, if she had not saved herself by running into his
cage, the door of which stood open. Here she would certainly have been
caught, if her husband had not rushed to the entrance. Max warily eyed
his new opponent, and uttered a menacing growl, but seemed to decline
the attack. Dame Placida filled the cage with her shrieks, and alarmed
by the cries, all the wild animals renewed their howling. Hairun would
have flown to Magog’s assistance, but the latter called to him in a
voice of thunder to desist.
“I will have no interference,” he roared, “old Max and I understand each
other perfectly.”
As if he comprehended what was said, the bear replied by a hoarse growl,
and displayed his enormous fangs in a formidable manner. Dame Placida
renewed her cries, and besought Ribald to come to her assistance.
“Stay where you are,” thundered Magog, “I will settle this matter in my
own way.”
“Help! for mercy’s sake, help!” shrieked Dame Placida,—“never mind
him!—help! good Hairun—dear Ribald—help! or I shall be torn in pieces.”
Thus exhorted, Ribald and Hairun would have obeyed. But they were
prevented by Og and Gog, who began to sec through their brother’s
design.
“Leave him alone,” they cried, laughing loudly. “He is about to give his
dame a lesson.”
“Is that all?” replied Hairun. “Then he shall have no interruption from
me.”
“Barbarian!” cried Dame Placida, appealing to her husband. “Do you mean
that I should be devoured! Oh! if ever I do get out, you shall bitterly
repent your cruel conduct.”
“You never shall get out, unless you promise to amend your own conduct,”
rejoined Magog.
“I will die sooner than make any such promise,” replied Placida.
“Very well, then,” rejoined Magog, “I shall give free passage to Max.”
And he slightly moved his person, while the animal uttered another
growl. The giants laughed loudly, and encouraged their brother to
proceed.
“Make her promise, or let Max take his course,” they shouted.
“Fear it not,” answered Magog.
“Monster!” shrieked Dame Placida, “you cannot mean this—help! help!”
But no one stirred. And above the roaring of the animals and the angry
growling of Max, which Magog had provoked with a sly kick or two, was
heard the loud laughter of the gigantic brethren.
“I give you two minutes to consider,” said Magog. “If you do not resolve
to amend in that time, I leave you to your fate.’”
And he again goaded Max into a further exhibition of fury. Dame Placida
became seriously alarmed, and her proud spirit began to give way.
“I promise,” she uttered faintly.
“Speak up!” bellowed Magog. “I can’t hear you for the noise.”
“I promise,” replied Placida, in a loud and peevish voice. “That won’t
do,” rejoined her husband. “Speak as you used to do before I married
you, and let the others hear you.”
“Yes—yes,” cried Og, drawing near with the rest, “we must all hear it,
that we may be witnesses hereafter. You promise to amend your conduct,
and let our brother live peaceably?”
“I do—I do,” replied Placida, in a penitential tone.
“Enough,” replied Magog. And putting out his arm behind to his wife he
covered her retreat, and then suddenly turning upon Max, kicked him into
the cage, and fastened the door.
Much laughter among the male portion of the company ensued. But Dame
Potentia looked rather grave, and privately intimated to her husband her
desire, or rather command, that he should go home. As Peter Trusbut took
his departure, he whispered to Hairun, “If ever you think of marrying, I
advise you to take good care of old Max. I wish I could borrow him for a
day or two.”
“You shall have him, and welcome,” returned the bearward, laughing.
“Thank you—thank you,” answered the pantler, dejectedly. “Mine is a
hopeless case.”
Dame Placida appeared so much subdued, that at last Magog took
compassion upon her, and led her away, observing to the bearward, “For
my sake bestow a plentiful supper on Max. He has done me a good turn,
and I would fain requite it.”
The rest of the party speedily followed their example, and as Xit took
his leave, he remarked to his host, “Nothing but Magog’s desire to
terrify his dame prevented me from attacking Max. I am certain I could
master him.”
“Say you so?” replied Hairun; “then you may have an opportunity of
displaying your prowess before the queen tomorrow.”
“I will certainly avail myself of it,” replied Xit. “Give him a good
supper, and he will be in better condition for the fight.”
Early on the following day, Mary arrived at the Tower. She came by
water, and was received at the landing-place by Sir Henry Bedingfeld,
who conducted her with much ceremony to the palace, where a sumptuous
banquet was prepared, at which the knight assisted as chief sewer,
presenting each dish to the queen on his bended knee, and placing a
silver ewer filled with rosewater, and a napkin, before her between
the courses. Mary looked grave and thoughtful, nor could the liveliest
sallies of De Noailles, who was one of the guests, call a smile to her
lips. Renard, also, was present, and looked more gloomy than usual. The
banquet ended, Sir Henry Bedingfeld approached, and laid a parchment
before the queen.
“What is this, sir?” she demanded.
“The warrant for the burning of Edward Underhill, the miscreant who
attempted your highness’s life,” replied Bedingfeld.
“How!—burned! and I had pardoned him,” exclaimed Mary.
“He has been delivered over by the council to the ecclesiastical
authorities, and such is the sentence pronounced against him,” returned
the knight.
Mary sighed, and attached her signature to the scroll.
“The hour of execution, and the place?” demanded Bedingfeld.
“To-morrow at midnight, on the Tower-green,” replied Mary.
Soon after this, it being intimated to the queen that all was in
readiness at the Lion’s Tower, she arose and proceeded thither,
attended by a large retinue of nobles and dames. On the way a momentary
interruption occurred, and Simon Renard, who walked a few paces behind
her, stepped forward, and whispered in her ear, “I beseech your highness
to remain to-night in the Tower. I have somewhat of importance to
communicate to you, which can be more safely revealed here than
elsewhere.”
Mary bowed assent, and the train set forward. A large assemblage was
collected within the area in front of the Lions’ Tower, but a passage
was kept dear for the royal party by two lines of halberdiers drawn
up on either side. Og and Magog were stationed at the entrance,
and reverentially doffed their caps as she passed. Mary graciously
acknowledged the salute, and inquired from the elder giant what had
become of his diminutive companion.
“He is within, an’ please your majesty,” replied Og, “waiting to
signalize himself by a combat with a bear.”
“Indeed!” rejoined Mary smiling. “It is a hardy enterprise for so small
a champion. However, large souls oft inhabit little bodies.”
“Your highness says rightly,” observed Og. “But your illustrious father,
to whom I have the honour to be indirectly related,” and he inclined his
person, “was wont to observe that he had rather have a large frame and
small wit, than much wit and a puny person.”
“My father loved to look upon a man,” replied Mary, “and better
specimens of the race than thee and thy brethren he could not well meet
with.”
“We are much beholden to your highness,” replied Og; “and equally, if
not more so, to your royal father. Whatever we can boast of strength and
size is derived from him. Our mother—”
“Some other time,” interrupted Mary, hastily passing on.
“Have I said aught to offend her highness?” asked Og of his brother, as
soon as they wero alone.
“I know not,” returned Magog. “But you fetched the colour to her
cheeks.”
On reaching the steps, Mary tendered her hand to Sir Henry Bcdingfeld,
and he assisted her to ascend. A temporary covering had been placed over
the gallery, and the stone parapet was covered with the richest brocade,
and velvet edged with gold fringe. The queen’s chair was placed in
the centre of the semicircle, and as soon as she was seated, Sir Henry
Bcdingfeld stationed himself at her left hand, and waved his staff. The
signal was immediately answered by a flourish of trumpets; and a stout,
square-built man, with large features, an enormous bushy beard, a short
bull throat, having a flat cap on his head, and a stout staff in his
hand, issued from a side-door and made a profound obeisance. It was
Hairun. His homage rendered, the bearward proceeded to unfasten the door
of the central cage, in which a lion of the largest size was confined;
and uttering a tremendous roar that shook the whole building, the kingly
brute leaped forth. As soon as he had reached the ground, he glared
furiously at his keeper, and seemed to meditate a spring. But the
latter, who had never removed his eye from him, struck him a severe blow
on the nose with his pole, and he instantly turned tail like a beaten
hound, and fled howling to the further extremity of the area. Quickly
pursuing him, Hairun seized him by the mane, and, in spite of his
resistance, compelled him to arise, and bestriding him, rode him
backwards and forwards for some time; until the lion, wearying of the
performance, suddenly dislodged his rider, and sprang back to his den.
This courageous action elicited great applause from the beholders, and
the queen loudly expressed her approbation. It was followed by other
feats equally daring, in which the bearward proved that he had attained
as complete a mastery over the savage tribe as any lion-tamer of modern
times. Possessed of prodigious personal strength, he was able to cope
with any animal, while his knowledge of the habits of the beast rendered
him perfectly fearless as to the result. He unloosed a couple of
leopards, goaded them to the utmost pitch of fury, and then defended
himself from their combined attack. A tiger proved a more serious
opponent. Springing against him, he threw the bearward to the ground,
and for a moment it appeared as if his destruction was inevitable. But
the brute’s advantage was only momentary. In this unfavourable position,
Hairun seized him by the throat, and nearly strangling him with his
gripe, pulled him down, and they rolled over each other. During the
struggle, Hainin dealt his antagonist a few blows with his fist, which
deprived him of his wind, and glad to retreat, he left the bearward
master of the field.
Hairun immediately arose, and bowed to the queen, and, excepting a few
scratches in the arms, and a gash in the cheek, from which the blood
trickled down his beard, appeared none the worse for the contest. So
little, indeed, did he care for it, that without tarrying to recover
breath, he opened another cage and brought out a large hyæna, over whom
he obtained an easy conquest. At last, having finished his performance
to the queen’s entire satisfaction, he stepped to a side-door,
and introduced Gog and Xit. The latter was arrayed in his gayest
habiliments, and strutting into the centre of the area with a mincing
step, made a bow to the gallery that drew a smile to the royal lips, and
addressing Hairun, called in a loud voice, “Bring forth Maximilian, the
imperial bear, that I may combat with him before the queen.”
The bearward proceeded to the cage, and unfastening it, cried, “Come
forth, old Max.” And the bear obeyed.
Xit, meanwhile, flung his cap on the ground, and drawing his sword, put
himself in a posture of defence.
“Shall I stand by thee?” asked Gog.
“On no account,” replied Xit, in an offended tone, “I want-no
assistance. I can vanquish him alone.”
“Spare thy adversary’s life,” observed Hairun, laughingly.
“Fear nothing,” replied Xit, “the brave are ever merciful.”
“True,” laughed Hairun, “I must give a like caution to Max.” And
feigning to whisper in the bear’s ear, who was sitting on its hind
legs, lolling out its tongue, and looking round in expectation of some
eatables, he laughingly withdrew.
Seeing that Max paid no attention to him, Xit drew nearer, and stamping
his foot furiously on the ground several times, made a lunge at him,
screaming—“Sa-ha! sa-ha! sirrah,—to the combat!—to the combat.”
Still, Max did not notice him, but kept his small red eyes fixed on the
gallery, expecting that something would be thrown to him. Enraged at
this contemptuous treatment of his defiance, Xit snatched up his
cap, flung it in the bear’s face, and finding even this insult prove
ineffectual, began to prick him with the point of his sword, crying,
“Rouse thee, craven beast! Defend thy life, or I will slay thee
forthwith.”
Thus provoked, Max at length condescended to regard his opponent. He
uttered a fierce growl, but would not perhaps have retaliated, if Xit
had not persevered in his annoyances. Gesticulating and vociferating
fiercely, the dwarf made a number of rapid passes, some of which took
effect in his antagonist’s hide. All at once, Max made a spring so
suddenly, that Xit could not avoid it, struck down the sword, and
catching the dwarf in his arms, hugged him to his bosom. All Xit’s
courage vanished in a breath. He screamed loudly for help, and kicked
and struggled to free himself from the terrible grasp in which he was
caught. But Max was not disposed to let him off so cheaply, and the poor
dwarfs terror was excessive when he beheld those formidable jaws, and
that terrible array of teeth ready to tear him in pieces. It had been
all over with him, if Gog, who stood at a little distance, and narrowly
watched the fray, thinking he had suffered enough, had not run to his
assistance.
0322
Grasping the bear’s throat with his right hand, the giant forced back
his head so as to prevent him from using his teeth, while planting his
knee against the animal’s side, he tore asunder its gripe with the other
hand. Hairun, who was likewise flying to the rescue, seeing how matters
stood, halted, and burst into a loud laugh. The next moment, Gog gave
Max a buffet on the ears that laid him sprawling on his back, and Xit
escaped from his clutches. As soon as the bear regained his legs, he
uttered a low angry growl, and scrambled off to his cage. For a few
seconds, Xit looked completely crest-fallen. By degrees, however,
he recovered his confidence, and bowing to the gallery, said,—“I can
scarcely with propriety lay claim to the victory, as if it had been for
my friend Gog—”
“Nay, thou art welcome to my share of it,” interrupted the giant.
“If so,” rejoined Xit, “I must be pronounced the conqueror, for Max has
acknowledged himself vanquished by beating a retreat.” As he spoke,
the bear growled fiercely, and putting his head out of his cage, seemed
disposed to renew the fight—a challenge so alarming to Xit, that he flew
to Gog for protection, amid the laughter of the assemblage. Mary
then arose, and giving a purse of gold to Sir Henry Bedingfeld, to be
bestowed upon the bearward, took her departure for the palace.
As Xit was conversing with his friends, maintaining that he should have
vanquished the bear, if Hairun had not most unfairly instructed the
beast what to do, and offering to renew the combat on an early occasion,
Lawrence Nightgall, accompanied by two halberdiers, entered the court,
and approaching him, directed his companions to attach his person. Xit
drew his sword, and called upon Gog to defend him.
“What is the meaning of this, master jailor?” demanded the giant,
sternly.
“He is arrested by order of the council. There is the warrant,” replied
Nightgall.
“Arrested!” exclaimed Xit. “For what?”
“For conspiring against the queen,” replied Nightgall.
“I am innocent of the charge,” replied Xit.
“That remains to be proved,” replied Nightgall.
“I have no fears,” rejoined Xit, recovering his composure,—“but if
I must lose my head, like his grace of Northumberland, I will make a
better figure on the scaffold. I shall be the first dwarf that ever
perished by the axe. Farewell, Gog. Comfort thyself, I am innocent. Lead
me away, thou caitiff jailor.”
So saying, he folded his arms upon his breast, and preceded by
Nightgall, marched at a slow and dignified pace between his guards.