The Tower of London. William Harrison Ainsworth
the Duke’s intercession with our cousin Edward. For shame, my lord! you owe him too much to act against him.”
“I owe him nothing,” interposed the Earl of Arundel, “and may therefore speak without risk of any such imputation as your majesty has thrown out against Lord Pembroke. If the overweening power of the Duke of Northumberland be not checked, it will end in his downfal, and the downfal of all those with whom he is connected.”
“I thank you for your counsel, my lord,” replied the Queen; “and, setting down much to your private animosity, will place the rest to loyalty to myself.”
“Your highness will be speedily satisfied of the truth of my assertion, if you refuse compliance with Northumberland’s demands,” replied Pembroke. “But you will find it, unless you have recourse to strong measures, a difficult and a dangerous game to play.”
“To one who, though so young in years, is yet so old in wisdom as your majesty,” added the Earl of Arundel, “it will be needless to say, that on the first decisive movement of your reign—as on that of a battle—depends the victory. If you yield, all is lost. From this one step the Duke will estimate your character, and become either your servant or your master. From his conduct, also, you will know what to expect from him hereafter.”
“My resolution is taken, my lords,” returned the Queen.
“The course I have resolved upon in reference to the duke, you will learn when I meet you in the council-chamber, where he will be present to speak for himself—and, if need be, defend himself. My desire is that my reign should begin and proceed in peace. And, if you hope for my favour, you will forget your differences with his grace, and act in concert with me. In asserting my own power, I trust I shall convince him of the futility of any further struggle with me, and so bring him to a sense of duty.”
“Your majesty may depend upon the full support of your council,” rejoined Arundel.
“I doubt it not, my lord,” replied Jane. “And now to the business on which I summoned you. It may have reached you that my dear lord has departed this morning for Sion House, in great displeasure that I have refused to comply with his wishes.”
“We have heard as much,” replied both noblemen.
“My desire is that you hasten after him and entreat him to return with all speed,” pursued Jane.
“Your majesty then consents!” exclaimed Pembroke, hastily.
“Not so, my lord,” replied the Queen. “I will raise him to his father’s rank. He shall have a dukedom, but not a kingdom.”
“I would counsel your majesty to reflect ere you concede thus much,” observed Arundel.
“I have already said that my resolution is taken,” replied the Queen. “Repeat what I have told you to him, and entreat him to return.”
“Entreat him!” echoed Pembroke scornfully. “It is not for your highness to entreat, but to command. Obedience sworn at the altar by the lips of the Queen of England, is cancelled as soon as uttered. Your husband is your subject. Empower us to bring him to you, and he shall be at your feet within an hour.”
“My pleasure is that you literally fulfil my injunctions, my lords,” replied the Queen. “Lord Guilford Dudley was the husband of my choice. When I gave my hand to him at the altar, I had no thought that it would ever grasp a sceptre, Nor, till I obtained this unlooked-for—and, believe me, most unwished-for dignity,—did the slightest misunderstanding ever arise between us. But now that I am compelled to sacrifice my affections at the shrine of duty,—now that I am Queen as well as consort—and he is subject as well as husband—this disagreement has occurred, which a little calm reflection will put to rights.”
“What if his lordship should refuse to return with us?” asked Pembroke.
“You will use your best endeavours to induce him to do so,” replied Jane, a tear starting to her eye, and her voice faltering in spite of her efforts to maintain her composure. “But if you fail, I shall at least be satisfied that I have done my duty.”
“Your majesty’s commands shall be obeyed,” replied Pembroke. “But we must have your licence to go forth—for we are detained as prisoners within the Tower.”
“You shall have it,” replied Jane. And she immediately wrote out the order.
“The passport must be countersigned by the duke,” said Pembroke. “The gate-keepers will not hold this sufficient authority.”
“How!” exclaimed Jane, reddening, “Am I not Queen? Is not my authority absolute here?”
“Not while the duke holds his high office, gracious madam,” returned Pembroke. “His followers give you the name of Queen. But they look up to him as sovereign.”
“My lord, I need no assurance that you are Northumberland’s mortal enemy,” replied Jane.
“I am your majesty’s loyal subject,” replied the earl. “And if your passport be respected, I will confess that I have wronged him.”
“And if it be not, I will confess I have wronged you, my lord,” rejoined Jane. “The royal barge is at your service.—An usher shall conduct you to it.”
So saying, she motioned one of her train, to attend them, and the two nobles bowed and departed.
As soon as they had quitted the royal presence, Pembroke observed to his companion:—
“We have now effected a quarrel, which will end in Northumberland’s destruction and Jane’s dethronement. Simon Renard will so fan the flame, that it shall never be extinguished.”
As the Earl anticipated, the Queen’s pass was refused—the warders declaring that their instructions were to suffer no one to go forth without the Duke’s written order. They then returned to the palace. It was some time before they were admitted to the Queen, as she was engaged in the angry conference previously-related with her mother-in-law. When the Duchess had departed, they sought an audience.
“How, my lords,” cried Jane, turning very pale; “do I see you again so soon?”
“It is as I informed your highness,” replied the Earl of Pembroke, laying the order on the table. “The Duke is master here.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the Queen, starting to her feet, “am I deserted by my husband—braved by the Duke—and treated like an infant by his imperious dame? I cry you pardon, my lords, you have not deceived me. You are my loyal subjects. Oh! I could weep to think how I have been deluded. But they shall find they have not made me queen for nothing. While I have power I will use it. My lords, I bid you to the council at noon tomorrow. I shall summon Lord Guilford Dudley to attend it, and he will refuse at his peril.”
“Have a care, gracious madam, how you proceed with the Duke,” replied Pembroke. “Your royal predecessor, Edward, it is said, came not fairly by his end. If Northumberland finds you an obstacle to his designs, instead of a means of forwarding them, he will have little scruple in removing you.”
“I shall be wary, doubt it not, my lord,” rejoined Jane. “To-morrow you shall learn my pleasure. I count on your fidelity.”
“Your majesty may safely do so,” they replied. And with renewed assurances of zeal, they departed.
“Her spirit is now fairly roused,” observed Pembroke, as they quitted the palace. “If she hold in the same mind till to-morrow, it is all over with Northumberland.”
“Souvent femme varie, bien fol est qui s’y fie,” observed Simon Renard, advancing to meet them. “Let me know how you have sped.”
The Earl of Pembroke then related the particulars of their interview with the Queen.
“All goes on as well as I could desire,” observed Renard. “But she must come to an