Ernst Verner and Andrew A'Dale began bitterly to repent their folly in
having come out of the City. Still more so did they when the insurgents
met a body of the Queen's troops near Temple Bar. Sir Thomas Wyatt's
men, though they for some time fought bravely, many losing their lives,
were at length put to flight, and a herald advancing, urged their leader
to yield himself a prisoner, and to submit to the Queen's clemency. The
friends around him, however, entreated him rather to fly than to trust
to one under such evil influences as was her Majesty, but in despair he
at length yielded himself up to Sir Maurice Berkley. It was a sad sight
to see poor Sir Thomas mounted on a horse behind Sir Maurice, and
carried off to Westminster. As this is not a record of public events,
it may briefly be said that the clemency afforded to Sir Thomas Wyatt
was that of death, he being some time afterwards executed.
There can be no doubt that this insurrection hastened the execution of
the young and talented Lady Jane Grey, and of her husband, Lord Guilford
Dudley. The event just described took place on the 7th of February,
1554, and on the 12th Lord Guilford Dudley was led out of his prison to
die on Tower Hill. Ernst and A'Dale heard, as boys are apt to hear,
that some event of importance was about to take place, and together they
found their way to the spot, little knowing, however, what they were to
witness. The bell tolled slowly when the young nobleman was led forth
from the Tower to the scaffold. He gazed round him on that cold
winter's morning; yet colder seemed the hearts of those who were thus
putting him out of life. After a short time allowed him for prayer, he
laid his head on the block. The executioner held it up, and declared it
to be the head of a traitor. It was then wrapped in a cloth, and his
body was taken back in a cart to the Tower. The boys, with many other
persons, now made their way within the walls, supposing that they were
to witness the interment of the young lord, but shortly they found
themselves beneath the walls of the White Tower. There, on the green
open space, a scaffold appeared. While they were wondering why it was
there placed, a door at the foot of the Tower opened, and forthwith came
several guards and other persons. In their midst walked a lady, young
and lovely, moving with grace, and her countenance, though grave and
sad, yet beaming with a radiance which seemed to the boys angelic.
Young indeed she was, for she had as yet numbered only seventeen
summers. She walked on with a firm step, not a tear appearing in her
eyes. In her hand she held a book, from which she read, praying as she
walked. Thus she came to the scaffold. There she knelt down and again
lifted up her heart in prayer to God. She was the Lady Jane Grey, thus
about cruelly to be put to death for no crime--no fault of hers. When
she rose, she handed her book from which she had been reading, to an
officer who stood by her side. He was Master Brydges, brother of the
Lieutenant of the Tower. In vain the priests who stood round
endeavoured to persuade her to die in the faith of Rome. She who had a
short time before uttered these memorable words, "I ground my faith upon
God's Word, and not upon the Church, for if the Church be a good Church,
the faith of the Church must be tried by God's Word, and not God's Word
by the Church," could not, while God's grace supported her, abandon the
pure Protestant truth she held. And now she was well prepared to die,
for she trusted in the risen Saviour, all-powerful to keep her to the
end. Tying the kerchief about her eyes, she felt for the block, and
said, in a sweet, low voice, "What shall I do? Where is it?"
One of those standing by guided her to the block, on which she then laid
down her head as if on a pillow, and stretched forth her body, seemingly
about to rest, saying: "Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit." No
other word she spoke. The gleaming axe descended, and the life of that
young and virtuous and highly talented lady was thus cut short. Had
Ernst been alone he would have fallen to the ground, so faint and sick
at heart did he become at the spectacle he had witnessed. But A'Dale
was of somewhat firmer stuff, and taking his companion by the arm, led
him again out of the precincts of the Tower. The gates were once more
closed.
Such was the commencement of horrors which the City of London was to
witness.
On the following day, when morning broke, in all parts of London gallows
were found erected, from Billingsgate in the east to Hyde Park Corner in
the west, and in nineteen different places were these instruments of
death set up; and ere the close of that black day, forty-eight men had
been suspended on them, all accused of joining in the rebellion of Sir
Thomas Wyatt. Still the prisons were full of captives; and a few days
afterwards several leaders and twenty-two common rebels were marched out
of London under a strong escort to suffer death in Kent, there to strike
terror into the hearts of the inhabitants.
It was melancholy at that time to walk about London, for in every
direction the sight of men hanging in gibbets met the eye. Ernst
declared that he would not again leave the house, and yet a feverish
curiosity compelled him, with A'Dale, often to traverse the streets.
Still no news came of Master Gresham, and Lady Anne became very anxious
to hear of his safety.
At length, one night, the wind blowing, and the rain pattering down on
the roof, a loud knocking was heard at the door, and after some time the
porter, being aroused, went to the watch-hole to see who was without.
As there was but a single horseman, the porter asked his business.
"Don't you know me, knave?" asked the voice of James Brocktrop; "open
quickly! I have a message for our lady!"
Saying this, as soon as the door was opened, he brought his horse into
the paved hall, and led it through to the back of the house, where the
stables were situated.
"Now hie thee to bed, knave," he said to the porter. "I will get for
thee a cup of sack, that thou mayest sleep sounder after being thus
aroused."
In a short time Ernst was summoned by Lady Anne, and directed to bring
James Brocktrop into her presence, to hear the news he had brought from
her lord. They spoke for a short time together, when both went down to
the hall, Lady Anne calling Ernst to her. The door was opened, and
James Brocktrop sallied forth, leaving Lady Anne and Ernst to watch at
the door.
In a short time Brocktrop returned, accompanied by another person, with
a cloak wrapped closely round him which shaded his features. No sooner
was he inside than the door was again closed, and, without speaking a
word, Lady Anne led him along to the stairs, and together they ascended
to the upper part of the house.
"Who is that?" asked Ernst of Brocktrop; "surely I know the figure of
the stranger."
"It will be wise in you to know nothing about the matter, young master,"
answered Brocktrop: "some knowledge is dangerous, especially in these
times."
Ernst formed his own opinion on the subject. He had little doubt who
the stranger was.
"Now hie thee to bed, lad, hie thee to bed," said Master Brocktrop, "and
forget, if thou canst, that thou hast been awakened out of thy sleep;
and if thou art cross-questioned at any time, thou wilt remember that
which has passed to-night is but an idle dream not to be spoken of."
Ernst went back to his room, which he shared with the young Richard
Gresham, and was soon again fast asleep.
After this, Lady Anne no longer spoke of her anxiety regarding the fate
of her husband; but she saw no guests, and those who called on business
were told that as soon as Master Gresham returned, and was able to see
them, he would willingly hear what they had to communicate.
Master Gresham was not the only Protestant gentleman of repute who was
at this time anxious about himself. Many who had come prominently
forward during the reign of King Edward were now placed in great fear in
consequence of the proceedings of the Queen's ministers. A sermon, a
short time before preached by Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, before the
Queen, greatly alarmed the minds of those who held Protestant
principles, in which he had entreated that, as before open rebellion and
conspiracy had sprung out of her leniency, she would now be merciful to
the body of the commonwealth and conservation thereof, which could not
be unless the rotten and hurtful members thereof were cut off and
consumed. In truth, it was well-known that she and her counsellors had
determined to carry through the matter of restoring the Popish faith by
fire and blood. Ernst especially trembled when he heard that Philip,
the son of the cruel persecutor of the Netherlands, had arrived in
England, and that he had been married to Queen Mary on the 25th of June,
the festival of Saint James, the Patron Saint of Spain, and that
henceforth he was to be called King of England. Gardiner, who performed
the ceremony, was treated with great respect, and at the banquet which
followed was the only person permitted to sit upon the dais with the
King and Queen.
And now all the gibbets in London were taken down, so that the dead
bodies hanging thereon might not offend the sight of the King, who,
however, had been too much accustomed to see the subjects of his father
burned because they trusted in God's Word to have felt any great
repugnance to the spectacle.
Everywhere the streets of London were filled with Spaniards, who walked
haughtily about with their cloaks over their shoulders and swords by
their sides, greatly to the displeasure of the citizens, who often
seemed disposed to place them all, with their Prince, on board the
vessels in the Thames, and send them forthwith again out of the country.
And now preparations were complete for the state visit of the King and
Queen to the City.
Banners were hung out along the streets; all sorts of designs were
prepared, while all public spots which would allow of paintings were
ornamented with various devices; among others, the conduit in
Gracechurch Street was decorated with pictures of Henry the Eighth and
Edward the Sixth, and of the nine worthies. Henry was represented with
a Bible in his hand, on which was written, "Verbum Dei."
Now the Queen and a vast number of nobles--English, Flemish, and
Spanish--rode through the City in great state; but few of the mob
cheered, or cried, "God save the King and Queen!" Many, indeed, uttered
very different exclamations, at which Mary, and Bishop Gardiner, were
very wroth, scarcely attempting to conceal their anger. Still more
angry was the Bishop when he arrived in Gracechurch Street, and saw the
representation of King Henry with a Bible in his hand. Immediately he
sent some one to call the painter before him, who, on his appearing, had
numerous foul words showered down on his head.
"Thou art an accursed traitor!" he added. "Who bade thee thus paint the
good King with a book in his hand? Thou shalt be sent to the Fleet
because thou art a fool, if not a traitor."
The poor painter humbly apologised, saying that he thought, as King
Henry had allowed the Bible to be read in all churches, it was right to
paint him in that manner.
"No, no, knave!" answered the bishop. "Such a painting is against the
Queen's Catholic proceedings. She does not esteem the Bible as the vile
heretics do. Now go and paint out the book, or thy head will grace one
of the first fresh gibbets which will soon be erected in the City."
The painter hastened off, and painting out the Bible, put in the King's
hands a pair of gloves in its stead.
Ernst, as has been said, was watching the procession, but with a bitter
heart. He did not intend to make any sign of disrespect: he simply
avoided shouting, or showing that he was pleased at the arrival of the
Prince, when suddenly he found his arm seized by a person with a firm
grasp.
"What want you with me?" he asked, looking up, and almost expecting to
see the person who had before warned him that Master Gresham was in
danger.
"Thou art a young traitor, and must prepare to go with me to prison,"
said the officer of justice. "I saw thee just now make signs of hatred
towards the Queen. For this alone thou deservest to die; we can have no
traitors in England."
In vain Ernst pleaded that he had not done any wrong, and that though he
had not shouted, neither had the great mass of people standing round.
This seemed somewhat to stagger the officer. The man was about, indeed,
to let Ernst go, when a priest, who had been standing near, stepped
forward, and looking the boy earnestly in the face, exclaimed: "Oh!
young traitor, I saw thee when I was performing mass at Saint Mary
Overy, and the rebels under Wyatt attacked the church. Thou wert among
those who stripped the altar, and endeavoured to carry off the silver
candlesticks. Young heretic and traitor that thou art! Off to the
Fleet with him! I wot that his father and friends are as bad as he is;
and when they come to look for him they shall be secured likewise. I
can swear to his countenance. See! he trembles and turns pale. He is
guilty, there is no doubt of it."
"Indeed I am not, master!" exclaimed Ernst. "At the time you speak of,
I was on the north side of the river. Only once, when I entered London,
did I ever cross London Bridge."
"Thou wouldest swear to any falsehood, young traitor," answered the
priest. "Thy word is of no value."
"But I can swear that he did not cross London Bridge on that day!"
exclaimed Andrew A'Dale, who had been at some little distance from Ernst
at the time, but, seeing him seized hold of by the guard, had hurried
up, and heard the last remarks of the priest.
"Ah, ah!" exclaimed the priest, looking at Andrew, "why, of course thou
wilt swear anything for thy companion, for thou wert there thyself. Thy
nature is shown clearly enough, because thou didst not shout for the
good Queen Mary and her loving spouse. Seize him also: carry them both
away to the Fleet. They are a brace of traitors and heretics. Away
with them! Away with them!"
On this both the lads were seized, and, in spite of all their
expostulations and assertions of their innocence, were being dragged off
by the officers of the so-called justice. At that instant, a
richly-dressed gentleman on horseback, who had for some reason remained
somewhat behind the royal party, was passing by in order to rejoin them.
Observing the youth struggling in the hands of the guards, he turned
his head aside. He gave a second glance at Ernst's countenance, and
after doing so stopped his horse, and made a sign to the guard to allow
the boys to approach. "What, my lad," he exclaimed, "have you been
breaking the peace? Of what crime are you accused?"
Ernst looked up at the speaker, and recognised Sir John De Leigh.
"I am wrongfully accused of having been, with other boys, at the church
of Saint Mary Overy when it was sacked; but to my knowledge I have never
been near the place, and during the whole of that day was on the north
side of the river."
"I believe your words, my boy, and will see what can be done for you,"
answered Sir John.
He spoke to the guards, but they shook their heads. The boys had been
given into their charge by Father Overton, and they dared not let them
go free. In vain Sir John offered to be answerable for them. "The
father is in the service of Bishop Gardiner, and he is not one likely to
pardon us, should we allow the prisoners to escape."
"Well, my lads, I am afraid you must submit to it," said Sir John, in a
kind voice. "But trust to me; I will see after you, and hope, if you
can prove yourselves innocent, to get you set free."
"Thank you, sir," said Ernst; "but, in the meantime, I fear me much that
Lady Anne will be anxious at not hearing of me, and so will A'Dale's
friends; will you, therefore, send to her, and beg her also to let them
know what has become of him?"
"You are a thoughtful boy," answered Sir John; "I will see to it;" and
slipping a purse into Ernst's hands, he rode on, whispering as he did
so, "You will require that to obtain some few necessaries in prison."
Seeing there was no help for it, the boys walked on rapidly,
endeavouring to look as little like prisoners as possible. Their
guards, indeed, with their heavy arms, had some difficulty in keeping up
with them. Proceeding down Cheapside, they reached Ludgate, and then
turning to the north by the banks of the river Fleet, they arrived at
the entrance of the prison, surrounded by strong walls. On either side
of the entrance, which had a room overhead, were two low, tower-like
buildings facing a flight of steps leading down to the river. The
porter quickly opened the gate, and eagerly received his prisoners, well
pleased at the thoughts of the fees they might bring him.
"Glad to see you, my young masters; we shall find you pleasant
apartments, I doubt not; and maybe you will occupy them to the end of
your days--or perchance until you go forth to grace one of the gibbets
with which our ancient city has of late been adorned."
The guards, having received a proper acknowledgment from the warden of
the delivery of the prisoners, demanded a fee, that they might have the
honour of drinking their healths, and were evidently disappointed when
A'Dale stoutly refused to yield to their demands. The boys were now
carried before the governor of the prison, or sub-warden, as he was
called, who farmed the management from the warden, his chief business
being to wring, as much out of the prisoners as he possibly could,
either by threats, or barbarous treatment, or offers of favour to be
shown them.
A'Dale, who was a well-practised London lad, and knew its ways
thoroughly, whispered to Ernst to produce only one of his coins at a
time, being very sure that the sub-warden would otherwise not grant them
any favour until he had possessed himself of the greater number. Ernst
accordingly at once placed a couple of marks in the warden's hands.
"There, Master Warden," he said; "we are unjustly brought in here; but
we would desire, while we remain, to enjoy such conveniences as the
place can afford."
"Of course, young masters, all who come hither consider themselves
brought here unjustly. You shall have an upper chamber, or at least a
portion of one, as perchance you may have companions, whence you can
enjoy a view of the Fleet river, and the barges passing up and down it.
Such bedding as many a dignitary of the Church has had to rest on, and
food from my own buttery. More, surely, you cannot desire; and, hark
you! these two marks are very well as a beginning, but I must see more
of them, or you will find your quarters and your fare changed pretty
speedily." The sub-warden having thus, as he said, examined his
prisoners, summoned the jailer to conduct them to the apartments he
indicated.