The Tower of London: A Historical Romance, Illustrated

“Master Lawrence Nightgall,” continued Cicely, “you say you can conduct the prisoner beyond the walls of the Tower, Bring me back some token that you have done so, and I am yours.”

“Willingly,” replied the jailer.

“Retire then for a moment, while I arrange with him what the token shall be.”

Nightgall hesitated.

“Refuse, and I retract my promise,” she added.

And the jailer, with a suspicious look, reluctantly left the cell.

“Cicely, my beloved,” cried Cholmondeley, clasping her in his arms, “why – why have you done this?”

“To preserve you,” she replied, hurriedly. “Once out of this dungeon, I can bring assistance to liberate you.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated Nightgall, who, having placed his ear to the wall, lost not a syllable of their discourse.

“It will be unavailing,” replied Cholmondeley. “No one will venture to oppose an order of the Council. You must make known my case to Lord Guilford Dudley. Take this ring. Explain all to him, and I may yet be saved. Do you hear me, Cicely?”

“I do,” she replied “And I,” added Nightgall.

“In case you fail,” continued the esquire, “the token of my escape shall be” – And placing his lips close to her ear, he spoke a few words in so low a tone, that they escaped the jailer. “Till you receive that token treat Nightgall as before.”

“Doubt it not,” she answered.

“I am content,” said the esquire.

“I see through the design,” muttered the jailer, “and will defeat it. Have you done?” he added, aloud.

“A moment,” replied Cholmondeloy, again pressing the damsel to his bosom, “I would sooner part with my life’s-blood than resign you.”

“I must go,” she cried, disengaging herself from his embrace. “Now, Master Nightgall, I am ready to attend you.”

“In an hour I shall return and release you,” said the jailer, addressing the prisoner. “Your hand, Cicely.”

“I will go alone,” she replied, shrinking from him with a look of abhorrence.

“As you please,” he rejoined, with affected carelessness. “You are mine.”

“Not till I have received the token. Farewell!” she murmured, turning her tearful gaze upon Cholmondeley.

“For ever!” exclaimed the youth.

And as they quitted the cell, he threw himself despairingly on the ground.

Issuing from the outer door of the dungeon, Cicely and her companion took their way towards the Stone Kitchen. They had not proceeded far, when they perceived several persons approaching them, who, as they drew nearer, proved to be Dame Potentia, Xit, and the giants.

“What have you been doing, Cicely?” inquired her adoptive mother, angrily. “I have been searching for you everywhere!”

“You shall know anon,” replied the maiden. “But come with me to the palace. I must see Lord Guilford Dudley, or the Duke of Northumberland, without a moment’s delay.”

“Warders,” interposed Nightgall, authoritatively: “go to Master Manger’s lodging in the Bloody Tower. Bid him hasten with two assistants, and the sworn tormentor, to the dungeon beneath the Devilin Tower. He will know which I mean. Justice is about to be done upon a prisoner.”

“Oh no – no – do not go,” cried Cicely, arresting the giants. “He does not mean it. He is jesting.”

“Go home, then, and do not stir forth till I bring you the token,” rejoined Nightgall, in a deep whisper.

“In Heaven’s name, what is the meaning of all this?” cried Dame Potentia, in amazement.

“I will inform you,” replied the jailer, drawing her aside. “Your daughter was about to elope with the young esquire. I detected them trying to escape by the secret passage beneath the moat, of which you know I have the key. Lock her within her chamber. Pay no attention to her tears, entreaties, or assertions. And, above all, take care no one has any communication with her.”

“Trust me to guard her,” rejoined Dame Potentia. “I know what these court-gallants are. They will venture anything, and contrive anything, when a pretty girl is concerned. But what has happened to the esquire?”

“He is safe for the present,” answered Nightgall, significantly.

Cicely, meantime, had availed herself of their conversation, to whisper a few words to Xit.

“Take this ring,” she said, placing the ornament given her by her lover, in the hands of the dwarf, “and fly to the palace. Show it to Lord Guilford Dudley, and say that the wearer is imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the Devilin Tower. Assistance must be speedily rendered, as he is ordered for immediate and secret execution. Do you understand?”

“Most precisely, lovely damsel,” replied Xit, kissing her hand, as he took the ring; “and I guess the name and condition of the prisoner, as well as the nature of the interest you take in him.”

“Fly!” interrupted Cicely. “Not a moment is to be lost. You shall be well rewarded for your trouble.”

“I desire no higher reward than your thanks, adorable maiden,” replied Xit. “Your behests shall be punctually obeyed.” So saying, he disappeared.

“Come, young mistress,” cried Dame Potentia, seizing her adoptive daughter’s arm, “you must to your chamber. You have led me and your father, and these worthy warders, a pretty dance. But you shall lead us all where you list, if I let you out of my sight in future.”

And thanking the giants, who had looked on in speechless astonishment, she dragged Cicely along with her.

“Remember!” whispered Nightgall, as he walked a few paces by the side of the latter.

“I shall expect the token in an hour,” she answered in the same tone.

“You shall have it,” he rejoined.

With this, he halted, and retraced his steps. The others then separated. Cicely was conveyed to the Stone Kitchen; and the giants, after looking in vain for Xit, and calling to him repeatedly but without effect, returned to the By-ward Tower. Just as they reached it, a shot was fired from the battlements, and was immediately answered from those of the Middle Tower. Other reports followed. And, alarmed by the sounds, the huge brethren hastily unlocked the door of their lodging, and entering it, to their infinite dismay, found the prisoner gone.

VIII. – HOW GILBERT ESCAPED FROM THE BY-WARD TOWER, AND SWAM ACROSS THE MOAT; HOW OG HUNG XIT UPON A HOOK; AND HOW LAWRENCE NIGHTGALL BROUGHT THE TOKEN TO CICELY

Gilbert having freed himself from his bonds, and clambered into the chimney in the By-ward Tower in the manner previously related, ascended without any inconvenience, except what was occasioned by the pungent smoke arising from the blazing fagots beneath, until he reached the level of the upper story, where another fire-place, connected with the passage up which he was mounting, so narrowed its limits, that it seemed scarcely possible to proceed further. The sound of voices in the chamber on this floor also alarmed him, and for some minutes he suspended his labour to listen. But as nothing occurred to disturb him, and it was evident, from the conversation of the speakers, that he had not been noticed, he presently resumed his task, and redoubling his efforts, soon vanquished all obstacles, and gained the opening of the chimney.

Here a fresh difficulty awaited him; and one for which he was wholly unprepared. The smoke found a vent through a small circular opening or louver, as it was termed, – for there was no chimney-top to disperse it to the air, – in the battlements. Through this opening he must necessarily creep; and, provided he could accomplish the feat, he had to elude the vigilance of the sentinels stationed on the roof of the turret. Luckily, the night was profoundly dark; and the gloom, increased by a thick mist from the river, was so intense, that an object could scarcely be discerned at a foot’s distance. Thus favoured, Gilbert resolved to hazard the attempt.

Watching his opportunity, he drew himself cautiously through the louver, and without being noticed by the sentinel, who was standing beside it, crouched beneath the carriage of a culverin. In this state, he remained for a short time, meditating what course he should next pursue, and nerving himself for some desperate attempt, when a door at the side of the southern turret suddenly opened, and three men-at-arms, the foremost of whom carried a torch, came to relieve guard.

Aware that he should now infallibly be discovered, Gilbert started to his feet, and drawing a dagger which he had picked up in the giants’ chamber, stood upon his defence. The movement betrayed him. Though confounded by his appearance, the sentinel nearest him presented his partizan at his breast and commanded him to surrender. Gilbert answered by striking up the man’s arm, and instantly sprang over the battlements.

A loud splash told that he had fallen into the moat. The men held the torch over the side of the turret. But it was too dark to distinguish any object below. Presently, however, a noise was heard in the water that convinced them the fugitive was swimming for the opposite bank. One of the soldiers instantly discharged his caliver in the direction of the sound, – but without effect.

This served as an alarm to the guards posted on the western ramparts, as well as to those on the Middle Tower, both of which commanded this part of the moat, and other shots were immediately fired. A signal was then rapidly passed from tower to tower, and from portal to portal, until it reached the Bulwark-gate, which formed the only entrance to the fortress on the west, and a body of armed men carrying lights instantly sallied forth and hurried towards the side of the moat.

Gilbert, meanwhile, swam for his life. Guided by the torches, which served to discover his enemies rather than to betray him, he effected a secure landing, But before he had climbed the steep bank, he was observed by a soldier, who, making towards him, shouted to his comrades for assistance. In the struggle that ensued, the torch borne by the soldier was extinguished, and bursting from him, Gilbert darted at a swift pace up Tower-hill. His pursuers were close upon him. But, well acquainted with the spot, he contrived to baffle them, by flinging himself beneath the permanent scaffold, then standing upon the brow of the eminence, and thus eluded observation. As soon as his foes had passed, he struck off swiftly to the left, and leaping a low wall, skirted All-hallows Church, and speedily gained Tower-street.

While Gilbert was flying in this direction, his pursuers finding themselves at fault, hastened back, and endeavoured to discover some trace of him. Some mounted the steps of the scaffold to see whether he had taken refuge on its blood-stained planks, – some crept under it, – others examined the posts of the neighbouring gallows, – while a fourth party flew to the postern gate, which defended the southern extremity of the city wall, in the hope that he might have been stopped by the watch. All, however, it is needless to say, were disappointed. And after some time had been fruitlessly expended, the whole party returned to the Tower to report the unsuccessful issue of their expedition.

Meanwhile, the report of the musquetry had reached the ears of Lord Clinton, the constable, who, attended by the lieutenant, the gentleman-porter, and a numerous patrol, chanced to be making the round of the fortifications at the time, and he descended to the gates to ascertain the cause of the alarm. On learning it, he immediately summoned the herald and the gigantic warders to his presence, and after sharply rebuking the former for neglect, ordered him into custody till the morning, when he proposed to take the duke’s pleasure as to his punishment. He then turned to the giants, who tried to soften his displeasure by taking the blame upon themselves, and telling them he would listen to their statement when the herald was examined, and, in the interim, they would be answerable with their lives for any further dereliction of duty, he dismissed the assemblage, and returned with his train to the ramparts.

Among those who had been gathered together in the guardroom near the By-ward Tower, – where the foregoing examination took place, – were Nightgall and Xit, – the latter having just returned from the palace, after a vain attempt to deliver his message to Lord Guilford Dudley, who, it has been already stated, was engaged at the time in secret conference with the Duke of Northumberland, and could not therefore be spoken with.

Ever on the alert, and suspicious of those around him, Night-gall overheard Og question the dwarf as to the cause of his absence; and perceiving, from Xit’s manner, that he had some secret to communicate, he contrived to approach them unobserved. He then learnt the message with which the dwarf had been entrusted by Cicely, and enraged at her endeavour to overreach him, snatched the ring from him as he was displaying it to the giant, and threatened him with severe punishment, if he dared to meddle further in the matter.

As soon as he had recovered from his surprise, the affronted mannikin drew his rapier, and making several passes at Nightgall, would have certainly wounded him, if he had not dextrously avoided the blows by interposing the huge bulk of the giant between him and his assailant. The fury of the dwarf was so excessive, and the contortions into which he threw himself so inconceivably diverting, that Og could render him no assistance for laughing. Thrusting his sword between the giant’s legs, – now cutting on the right, now on the left, – Xit tried in every way to hit the jailer, and must have succeeded, if Og, who was by no means desirous to have blood shed in so ridiculous a fray, and who enjoyed the pastime too much to speedily terminate it, had not prevented him.

Gog, moreover, having on the onset disarmed Nightgall, he could not protect himself except by keeping under the shelter of the giant. Foiled in his attempts, Xit’s indignation knew no bounds, and exasperated by the derisive shouts and laughter of the spectators, he threatened to turn his sword against Og if he did not deliver up the jailer to his vengeance. This only produced louder roars of merriment from the by-standers; and the dwarf, whose passion had almost deprived him of reason, uttering a shrill scream like a child robbed of its plaything, threw himself on Og’s leg, and scrambled up his body, with the intention of descending on the other side, and exterminating his foe.

This feat raised the merriment of the spectators to the utmost. Og suffered the imp to ascend without opposition, and clinging to the points of the giant’s slashed red hose, Xit drew himself up to his broad girdle, and then setting one foot on the circlet of raised gold thread which surrounded the badge on his breast, soon gained his shoulder, and would have leapt from thence upon his foe, if Og, who began to think it time to put an end to the sport, had not seized him by the leg as he was in the act of springing off, and held him at arm’s-length, with his heels upwards.

After many useless struggles to liberate himself, and menaces of what he would do when he got free, which, as may be supposed, only provoked still further the laughter of the by-standers, Xit became so unmanageable, that Og fastened him by his nether garments to a hook in the wall, about fourteen feet from the ground, and left him to recover himself.

Thus perched, the dwarf hurled his rapier at Nightgall’s head, and replied to the jeers of the assemblage by such mops and mows as an enraged ape is wont to make at its persecutors. After the lapse of a few minutes, however, he began to find his position so uncomfortable, that he was fain to supplicate for release, to which, on receiving his assurance of quieter conduct for the future, Og consented, and accordingly unhooked him, and set him on the ground.

Nightgall, meanwhile, had taken advantage of this diversion, to leave the Guard-room, and hasten to the Stone Kitchen.

Dame Potentia was just retiring to rest as the jailer reached her dwelling, and it was only by the most urgent importunity that he succeeded in obtaining admission.

“Your pardon, good dame,” he said, as the door was opened. “I have that to tell Cicely, which will effectually cure her love for the young esquire.”

“In that case, you are right welcome, Master Nightgall,” she replied; “for the poor child has almost cried her pretty eyes out since I brought her home. And I have been so moved by her tears, that I greatly misdoubt, if her lover had presented himself instead of you, whether I should have had the heart to refuse to let him see her.”

“Fool!” muttered Nightgall, half aside. “Where is she?” he added, aloud. “I have no time to lose. I have a secret execution to attend before day-break.”

“Yours is a butcherly office, Master Nightgall,” observed Peter Trusbut, who was dozing in an arm-chair by the fire. “Those secret executions, to my mind, are little better than state murders. I would not, for all the power of the Duke of Northumberland, hold your office, or that of Gilliam Mauger, the headsman.”

“Nor I yours, on the same fee, Master Pantler,” rejoined Nightgall. “Tastes differ. Where is your daughter, good dame?”

“In her chamber,” replied Potentia. “Ho! Cicely, sweetheart!” she added, knocking at a door at the end of a short passage leading out of the kitchen on the right. “Here is Master Nightgall desires to speak with you.”

“Does he bring me the token?” demanded the maiden, from within.

“Ay marry, does he, child,” replied the dame, winking at the jailer. “Heaven forgive me the falsehood,” she added, – “for I know not what she means.”

“Leave us a moment, dear mother,” said Cicely, hastily unfastening the door. “Now, Master Nightgall,” she continued, as Dame Potentia retired, and the jailer entered the room, “have you fulfilled your compact?”

“Cicely,” rejoined the jailer, regarding her sternly, “you have not kept faith with me. You have despatched a messenger to the palace.”

“Oh! he is free,” exclaimed the maiden, joyfully, – “your plans have been defeated?”

Nightgall smiled bitterly.

“My messenger cannot have failed,” she continued, with a sudden change of countenance. “I am sure Lord Guilford would not abandon his favourite esquire. Tell me, what has happened?”

“I am come to claim fulfilment of your pledge,” rejoined the jailer.

“Then you have set him free,” cried Cicely. “Where is the token?”

“Behold it,” replied Nightgall, raising his hand, on which her lover’s ring sparkled.

“Lost! – lost!” shrieked Cicely, falling senseless upon the floor.

The jailer gazed at her a moment in silence, but did not attempt to offer any assistance. He then turned upon his heel, and strode out of the room.

“Look to your daughter, dame,” he observed, as he passed through the Stone-kitchen.

IX. – OF THE MYSTERIOUS MANNER IN WHICH GUNNORA BRAOSE WAS BROUGHT TO THE TOWER

Hurrying along Tower Street, and traversing Eastcheap and Watling Street – then narrow but picturesque thoroughfares – Gilbert, – to whom it is now necessary to return, – did not draw breath till he reached the eastern extremity of St. Paul’s. As he passed this reverend and matchless structure – the destruction of which, was the heaviest loss sustained by the metropolis in the Great Fire – he strained his eyes towards its lofty tower, but the gloom was too profound to enable him to discern anything of it beyond a dark and heavy mass.

“Thou art at present benighted, glorious fane!” he cried aloud. “But a bright dawn shall arise for thee, and all thy ancient splendour, with thy ancient faith, be restored. If I could see Mary queen, and hear mass solemnized within thy walls, I could die content.”

“And you shall hear it,” said a voice in his ear.

“Who speaks?” asked Gilbert, trembling.

“Be at St. Paul’s Cross to-morrow at midnight, and you shall know,” replied the voice. “You are a loyal subject of Queen Mary., and a true Catholic, or your words belie you?”

“I am both,” answered Gilbert.

“Fail not to meet me then,” rejoined the other, “and you shall receive assurance that your wishes shall be fulfilled. There are those at work who will speedily accomplish the object you desire.”

“I will aid them heart and hand,” cried Gilbert.

“Your name?” demanded the other.

“I am called Gilbert Pot,” answered the youth, “and am drawer to Ninion Saunders, at the Baptist’s Head, in Ludgate.”

“A vintner’s boy!” exclaimed the other, disdainfully.

“Ay, a vintner’s boy,” returned Gilbert. “But, when the usurper, Jane Dudley, was proclaimed at Cheapside this morning, mine was the only voice raised for Queen Mary.”

“For which bold deed you were nailed to the pillory,” rejoined the other.

“I was,” replied Gilbert; “and was, moreover, carried to the Tower, whence I have just escaped.”

“Your courage shall not pass unrequited,” replied the speaker. “Where are you going?”

“To my master’s, at the Baptist’s Head, at the corner of Creed Lane – not a bow-shot hence.”

“It will not be safe to go thither,” observed the other. “Your master will deliver you to the watch.”

“I will risk it, nevertheless,” answered Gilbert. “I have an old grandame whom I desire to see.”

“Something strikes me!” exclaimed the other. “Is your grandame the old woman who warned the usurper Jane not to proceed to the Tower?”

“She is,” returned Gilbert.

“This is a strange encounter, in good sooth,” cried the other. “She is the person I am in search of. You must procure me instant speech with her.”

“I will conduct you to her, right willingly, sir,” replied Gilbert. “But she says little to any one, and may refuse to answer your questions.”

“We shall see,” rejoined the other. “Lead on, good Gilbert.”

Followed by his unknown companion, about whom he felt a strange curiosity, not unalloyed with fear, Gilbert proceeded at a rapid pace towards his destination. The whole of the buildings then surrounding Saint Paul’s, it is almost unnecessary to say, were destroyed by the same fire that consumed the Cathedral; and, though the streets still retain their original names, their situation is in some respects changed.

Passing beneath the shade of a large tree, which then grew at the western boundary of the majestic edifice, Gilbert darted through a narrow entry into Ave Maria Lane, and turning to the left, speedily reached Ludgate, which he crossed at some fifty paces from the Gate – then used, like several of the other city portals, as a prison – and, entering Creed Lane, halted before a low-built house on the right. The shutters were closed, but it was evident, from the uproarious sounds issuing from the dwelling, that revelry was going on within. Gilbert did not deem it prudent to open the street door, but calling to his companion, he went to the back of the tavern, and gained admittance through a window on the ground floor.

“They are having a merry rouse,” he observed to the other, “in honour of the usurper; and my master, Ninion, will be too far gone to notice aught except his guests and his sack brewage, so that I may safely conduct your worship to my grandame. But first let me strike a light.”

With this, he searched about for flint and steel, and having found them, presently set fire to a small lamp hanging against the wall, which he removed and turned, not without some apprehension, towards the stranger.

His glance fell upon a tall man, with an ample feuille-morte coloured cloak thrown over his left shoulder, so as completely to muffle the lower part of his features. Gilbert could see nothing of the stranger’s face, except an aquiline nose, and a pair of piercing black eyes; but the expression of the latter was so stern and searching, that his own regards involuntarily sank before them. A bonnet of black velvet, decorated with a single drooping feather, drawn over the brow, added to the stranger’s disguise. But what was revealed of the physiognomy was so striking, that Gilbert was satisfied he should never forget it.

Something, indeed, there was of majesty in the stranger’s demeanour, that, coupled with his sinister looks and the extraordinary brilliancy of his eyes, impressed the superstitious youth with the notion that he was in the presence of an unearthly being. Struck by this idea, he glanced at the stranger’s feet, in expectation of finding one of the distinctive marks of the Prince of Darkness. But he beheld nothing except a finely-formed limb, clothed in black silk hose and a velvet shoe, above which hung the point of a lengthy rapier.

“I am neither the enemy of mankind nor your enemy, good youth,” observed the stranger, who guessed the cause of Gilbert’s apprehensions. “Bring your grandame hither, and take heed how you approach her, or your looks will alarm her more than mine do you.”

It was not without reason that this caution was given. Gilbert’s appearance was ghastly in the extreme. His countenance was haggard with the loss of blood; his garments torn and saturated with moisture; and his black dripping locks, escaping from the blood-stained bandage around his head, contrasted fearfully with the deathly paleness of his visage. Acknowledging the justice of the suggestion, Gilbert decided upon proceeding in the dark, that his appearance might not be observed.

Accordingly, he crept cautiously up stairs, and returned in a few minutes with his aged relative. Gilbert found the stranger in the same attitude he had left him, and his appearance startled Gunnora, as much as it had done him.

Crossing herself, she glanced uneasily at the mysterious stranger. From him her eye wandered to Gilbert; and terrified by his haggard looks, she cried in a tone of anxiety, “You have suffered much, my child. The ill news reached me of the shameful punishment with which you have been visited for your loyalty to your true Queen. I heard also that you had been conveyed a prisoner to the Tower; and was about to make suit to the gracious lady, Jane Dudley, in your behalf. Was I wrongfully informed?”

“No, mother, you were not,” replied Gilbert. “But heed me not. There stands the worshipful gentleman who desires to speak with you.”

“I am ready to answer his questions,” said Gunnora. “Let him propose them.”

“First, let me tell you, dame,” said the stranger, “that your grandsons devotion to Queen Mary shall not pass unrequited. Ere many days – perchance many hours – shall have passed, he shall exchange his serge doublet for a suit of velvet.”

“You hear that, mother,” exclaimed Gilbert, joyfully.

“Who are you that make him the offer?” asked Gunnora, stedfastly regarding the stranger.

“You shall know, anon,” he replied. “Suffice it, I can make good my words. Your presence is required in the Tower.”

“By the Lady Jane, – I should say by the queen?” rejoined Gunnora.

“By the Privy Council,” returned the stranger.

“What do they seek from me?” demanded the old woman.

“To testify to the death of his late Majesty, King Edward the Sixth,” replied the other.

“Ha!” exclaimed Gunnora.

“Fear nothing,” rejoined the stranger. “The council will befriend you. Their object is to prove that Edward was poisoned by Northumberland’s order. Can you do this?”

“I can,” replied Gunnora. “My hand administered the fatal draught.”

“Yours, mother!” ejaculated Gilbert, horror-stricken.

“Prove this, and Northumberland will lose his head,” said the stranger.

“Were my own to fall with it, I would do so,” replied Gunnora. “My sole wish is to avenge my foster-son, the great Duke of Somerset, who fell by Northumberland’s foul practices. It was therefore when all the physicians of the royal household were dismissed, and the duke sent messengers for empirical aid, that I presented myself, and offered my services. When I beheld the royal sufferer, I saw he had but short space to live. But short as it was, it was too long for the duke. A potion was prepared by Northumberland, which I administered. From that moment his highness grew worse, and in six hours he was a corpse.”

“It was a cursed deed,” cried Gilbert.

“True,” replied Gunnora, “it was so, and Heaven will surely avenge it. But I did it to get Northumberland into my power. The king’s case was past all remedy. But he might have lingered for days and weeks, and the duke was impatient for the crown. I was impatient too – but it was for his head. And therefore I did his bidding.”

“Your vengeance shall be fully gratified,” replied the stranger. “Come with me.”

“Hold!” exclaimed Gunnora. “How will his testimony affect the Lady Jane?”

“It will deprive her of her crown – perchance her head,” rejoined the stranger.

“Then it shall never be uttered,” replied Gunnora, firmly.

“Torture shall wring it from you,” cried the stranger, furiously.

The old woman drew herself up to her full height, and, regarding the stranger fixedly, answered in a stern tone – “Let it be tried upon me.”

“Mother,” said Gilbert, striding between them, and drawing his dagger, “go back to your own room. You shall not peril your safety thus.”

“Tush!” exclaimed the stranger, impatiently. “No harm shall befal her. I thought you were both loyal subjects of Queen Mary. How can she assume the sovereign power while Jane grasps the sceptre?”

“But you aim at her life?” said Gunnora.

“No,” replied the stranger, “I would preserve her. My object is to destroy Northumberland, and restore the crown to her to whom it rightfully belongs.”

“In that case I will go with you,” returned the old woman.

“You will fall into a snare,” interposed her grandson. “Let him declare who he is.”

“I will reveal my name to your grandame, boy,” replied the stranger. And advancing towards Gunnora, he whispered in her ear.

The old woman started and trembled.

“Hinder me not, Gilbert,” she said. “I must go with him.”

“Shall I accompany you?” asked her grandson.

“On no account,” replied the stranger, “unless you desire to be lodged in the deepest dungeon in the Tower. Be at the place of rendezvous to-morrow night, and you shall know more. Are you ready, good dame?”

Gunnora signified her assent; and, after a few parting words with her grandson, the latter unfastened a small door, opening upon the yard, and let them out.

They were scarcely clear of the house, when the stranger placing a silver whistle to his lips, blew a call upon it, which was instantly answered by a couple of attendants. At a signal from their leader they placed themselves on either side of Gunnora, and in spite of her resistance and remonstrances, dragged her forcibly along. The stranger, who marched a few yards in advance, proceeded at so rapid a pace, that the old woman found it utterly impossible to keep up with him. She therefore stood still, and refused to take another step. But this did not avail her, for the two attendants seized her in their arms, and hurried forward as swiftly as before.