With Ring of Shield

by Knox Magee

  CHAPTER XXIV

  IN THE TOWER

  I was conducted into the Tower through the "Traitor's Gate," the which,when I passed through, added nothing unto my lightness of spirit. As Igazed at the enormous arches, the memory of past events when, as a boy,I had heard of those which had entered this waterway with the charge oftreason clinging to their names, never again to be heard of by theoutside world, came to my mind with a renewed freshness and a forcenever to be by me forgotten, so long as mine old grey head retains itswonted reason.

  But then, this was as nothing compared with the great feeling ofloneliness, and crushing weight of the conviction of hopelessness whichsettled on my heart when the door of my prison had been closed andlocked, and I was left alone, but for my tormenting thoughts, within mycruel room in that Tower which rumour told had been the place of murderof our little King.

  When the keepers had departed, and the sound of their clanking stepshad died out, I still stood in the centre of the room, benumbed anddazed, as the full reality of my situation was gradually absorbed by mywhirling mind. Then I moved, and mine armour rattled with a noise thatsounded, to mine ears, as though a shield had fallen from a greatheight and alighted on a floor of stone. I started, gasped, and myhand flew to the place where should have hung my sword. I felt mybrow. It was cold and moist. I laughed at my foolishness; but thesound of mine own voice was so awful that I was as much startled as Ihad been by the sound of mine armour. Then I stood still and held mybreath and listened, for what I know not. The stillness was so intensethat it did seem to have a substance, and press into mine ears withsuch a force as did cause me to think that they were like to burst.

  How long I stood thus I know not; it did seem to be an age.

  Presently I heard a distant footstep. Ashamed of my childish feelingof fear, I, that would stand alone and face a score of warriors andnever quaver, as the sound of the feet approached, started to pacehurriedly the floor of my prison. As the causer of the sounds in thecorridor reached my door he stopped, and I heard the key rattle, as hedid insert it in the lock. I sat myself down upon my couch and tried,as best I could, to appear to be at mine ease when the jailer shouldenter.

  He brought with him a lamp and a small table, for both of which I wasglad.

  He was a not-bad-natured, though coarse-looking fellow of about someforty years; of rather more than middle height, and a girth and breadthof shoulder which bespoke not lack of bodily strength. A shock ofyellow hair, mixed liberally with grey, stood out from beneath his capof steel, like a wisp of straw.

  After placing the articles that he had brought, upon the floor, he castbut one glance at me, and then turned on his heel and left me.Presently he returned with my supper, which he placed upon the tablemuch in the same manner as one would arrange the meal of swine.

  "There, sir," said he, "thou hast nothing to complain of. That supperis fit for a King. And it's better than one King had whilst he livedin this very room."

  "What! did the young King Edward occupy this room?"

  "As for whether he occupied it or not, now that I know not; but he waskept in this same room until he went out feet first."

  "Horrible!" I gasped.

  "Horrible? Lord, sir! methinks that thou shouldst feel honoured by thethought of being let sleep in the same room where a royal King didsleep. I know that I would," he added, with a grim smile.

  "And dost thou know who killed him?" I asked.

  "Nay, nay, I said not nothing of his being killed," he replied, with agrin and a wise twist of his head, accompanied by the uplifting of theone of his shoulders until it touched his ear.

  "Well then, of what distemper did he die?"

  "Ha, ha!" he laughed, as though I had amused him vastly. "Whatdistemper? Ha, ha, ha! Well upon my soul! ha, ha, ha!" he burst forthagain.

  His voice, when he laughed, was ample evidence that he had in his dayconsumed no small quantity of spirits of different sorts; for itsounded as though a goodly quantity of the liquids had remained in histhroat, where it did some prodigious bubbling.

  "The distempers that one gets when a prisoner here are most always ofone kind. Ha, ha, ha! What distemper? Well upon my soul!" And stilllaughing at that which he no doubt imagined was wit, he went out andlocked the door and I was again alone with my thoughts, which were nomore cheerful than they had been previous to his visit.

  That night my sleep, if such it may be called, was an almost endlesssuccession of tormenting and extravagant dreams of terror, divided fromeach other by an awakening start of horror.

  And so the weary days and nights of mine imprisonment dragged slowlyon. Slowly, for the weight of sorrow and tormenting agony ofuncertainty for the fate of the one I loved did impede their progress,as doth the heavy weight upon the poor snail's back cause it to dragits weary body so slowly along its slimy course.

  My sole occupation, with which I tried to prevent my mind frombrooding, was the reading of the different sad histories of those whichwrit down their thoughts, and fates to be, upon their--and nowmy--prison's walls. One of these, whose sadness and beautifulresignation--even though it hath no great poetic merit--most affectedme, I now set down. The lines and words are imprinted on the pages ofmy memory with such a force as never can fade, so long as the old, wornbook doth hold together. Here they are, my children; and much profitmay be gathered from their calmness and resignation:--

  "Somewhat musing, and more mourning, In remembering the unsteadfastness, This world being of such wheeling, Me contrarying, what can I guess?

  "I fear, doubtless, remediless, Is now to seize my woful chance; For unkindness, withouten less, (lessening) And no redress, doth me avance.

  "With displeasance, to my grievance, And no surance of remedy; Lo, in this trance, now in substance, Such is my dance, willing to die.

  "Methinks, truly, bounden am I, And that greatly, to be content; Seeing plainly Fortune doth wry All contrary from mine intent

  "My life was lent me to one intent; It is nigh spent. Welcome Fortune! But I ne went (thought) thus to be shent, But she it meant, such is her won (wont)"[1]

  Evidently the woeful writer of these lines had been condemned to death.His bones had now lost their fleshly mantle, and forgotten he lay, farfrom those he loved. "How long ere I shall be in the same condition?"thought I, as I stood before my secure-barred window and gazed at therain, as it fell in one unceasing torrent.

  "Verily the heavens do weep for the sufferings of poor England," I saidaloud; for now I spoke unto myself as though I were another.

  For I know not how many days, for in my sorrow I lost all track oftime, the rain fell with unabated fury.

  How I longed to hear how fared my gentle Hazel.

  "Hell and furies!" would I cry, and grip at the same time the iron barsthat stood like the gate of Hell betwixt me and my liberty. Howrelieving did it feel to my pent up hate to twist at an iron bar andimagine that it was Catesby's throat I held.

  "Ha! thou accursed villain!" would I cry aloud, "thou now shalt knowthe fury of my vengeance!" Then would I strike the cruel metal with mybare and clenched fist, with such a force as did drive the tender skinback from the bone and leave a bleeding tear.

  The days lengthened into weeks; and still no word from the outsideworld. No trial; no condemnation; no execution; and that which I thenmost distasted, no definite knowledge of what should be my fate.

  * * * * *

  But let me now imagine myself as a free man, outside the Tower'swalls--the which I then saw no chance of my ever being--and let me nowdescribe the strange and important events that there were happening.

  The next day after my arrest the Duke of Buckingham left the court, asthough in haste. He and Lord Stanley had been together in theapartments of the Duke until a late hour on the night of my arrest.Whisperings there were to the effect that Buckingham had parted fromthe King in a spirit of animosity. Whether this were or were not thecase I k
now not. However, the next news of Buckingham was of such akind that it left no room for a doubt as to their then relations, nomatter what they had been previous to the Duke's departure.

  "Buckingham hath rebelled against King Richard: he is now raising anarmy in Wales. The Earl of Richmond is coming to his aid. More warand bloodshed for poor England." Such was the intelligence that nowflew on from mouth to ear throughout the land. Had mine imprisonedears but heard it then, how welcome had it been.

  Catesby, who had on several occasions attempted to gain admittance tothe Sanctuary, and had as many times met with refusal, was now obligedto attend to the affairs of state. Thus my fair Hazel was saved fromhis further molestation. Those days of tortuous anxiety to me couldhave been scarce less agonizing to her.

  The Usurper, with that energy ever his chiefest characteristic, nowraised an army to face the rebellious Duke.

  Then did commence to fall those fearful rains, that never once didcease for days and nights I know not how many; but as I think, some tendays or two weeks.

  The army of the Duke, thinking this unceasing rain was a message fromHeaven forbidding them to thus rebel, deserted their leader, and eachparticular man did betake himself unto his separate home.

  Then, as every congregation of people must have its Judas, the Duke wasbetrayed into the hands of the usurping tyrant, and there at Salisbury,where Richard had taken his post--for he thought that Richmond didintend joining Buckingham near this place--the Duke's head fell uponthe block, and Richard was rid of one more great enemy.

  Still did not Richmond land; so Richard and his army returned to London.

  When Catesby, who had been with Richard in this expedition, came againto the Palace it did cause Harleston great anxiety; for he feared forthe safety of the Lady Hazel. However, Catesby, to my friend'ssurprise, went not near the Sanctuary.

  This was but the deceiving prologue to another history of suffering andreverses to us, that ever seemed bent on rending us asunder, whosehearts were bound together with such mighty bonds of love.

  One evening as Frederick returned from a visit to the Sanctuary--wherehe had learned that Richmond had at last landed in Wales, and was evennow on his way to London--on entering his room Michael handed him asealed packet which proved to be an order for him to be prepared tomarch, at sunrise, in the ranks of Richard's army. This, however, wasno surprise, as he had been expecting it for more than a week. Hewalked over to the table and laid the letter upon it.

  "What is this, Michael?" he called, as his eyes fell upon another wellsealed packet.

  Michael, however, knew not from whence it came or how it got there.

  "Michael," said Frederick, "thou knowest that I desire no one to bepermitted to enter this room during mine absence. How is it,therefore, that this letter found its way here without thy knowledge?"

  "Sure, yer honour, it must have bin thare afore ye lift, sor; fer Oiwas out o' the room but fer a few minutes, and thin Oi made fast thedoor behind me, and took the kay along with me, sor. Divil a soulcould inter, sor, barrin' that they came through the kay-houle."

  "Strange," said Harleston, as he commenced to read the lengthy letter.But stranger still he thought it ere he had finished its contents. Itwas writ in a labored hand, as though to avoid recognition, and read asfollows:--

  "To SIR FREDERICK HARLESTON, _Greeting_.

  "The writer of these words, though--for reasons that he is not atliberty to state--he signs not his name, is well known to thee, and tothine unfortunate friend, Sir Walter Bradley; both of which he lovethwell.

  "To-morrow Sir Walter is to go through a form of trial--the result ofwhich must be his conviction--and he shall immediately be taken untoTower Hill, where his head shall be stricken from the trunk. Unless,ere to-morrow's dawn, he, by the aid of his friends, doth contrive toescape from the Tower, and make his way from London to a place ofsafety, he must surely die.

  "Sir Walter is now confined within the square tower next after passingthrough the Tower of St. Thomas, which, thou no doubt knowest, is thatone into which the "Traitor's Gate" doth lead.

  "If thou wilt but turn to the enclosure in this letter thine eyes shallbehold an order, signed by his Majesty, King Richard, that shall obtainfor the bearer admittance to and exit from any part of the Tower.However, this cannot give unto thee power to take forth a prisoner withthee. That must be done at thine own risk, and in the mannerfollowing:--

  "There is but one keeper in attendance on Sir Walter. Him thou mustmaster, and in a quiet manner. Take then from his belt the keys thatdo depend therefrom. Leave the keeper in such a condition as shallsecure thee of his quietness. The aforesaid keys will give unto you anexit into the space before the square tower. When ye have reachedthis, turn to your left, and again will the keys open the gate in thiswall with which ye shall soon be confronted. Then, looking to yourright, ye shall behold the wall that doth separate the yard from thewatery moat. Approach this with the exercise of great caution and yeshall then observe an opening where the wall is now being repaired byworkmen, in the day time, and at night it is guarded by a singlesoldier, armed with a pole-axe. Ye must quiet this man by whatevermeans best serving. But over and above all else, the neglect of whichadvice must be the ruin of ye both, permit him to make not any noise;for the utterance of but one word by him shall be the signal for hisfellows to come to his assistance; in which case escape is impossible.

  "When the sentry shall have been removed the moat must be crossed asbest ye can. The water therein is now both fresh and high, andtherefore it will not be difficult for ye to descend into it and swimacross. This ye must do in a most careful manner, that the guard benot disturbed by the noise of splashing water.

  "At a point directly opposite to the place where the wall is now beingrepaired ye shall find a ladder made of ropes and cross pieces, placedthere for your especial use and privilege.

  "By these same means ye may assist your friend to freedom, and that,without great risk; providing that the aforesaid instructions befollowed with exactness and care."

  Then followed a note. It read thus:--

  "If thy friend, Sir Walter, doth desire to save the Lady HazelWoodville from one which now resides within the walls of this place,and who is as bitter an enemy of Sir Walter as he is ardent lover ofthe aforesaid lady, he had best tarry in his flight for a sufficienttime to allow him to take the lady with him along. However, let himnot abide there; but hasten along upon his journey until he cometh untothe second road turning unto his right after leaving Westminster. Lethim follow this for the distance of about three miles, and he shallthen come unto a house, from the window of which a flag shall hang.The aforesaid house is not occupied, and may be used by the refugeesfor their hiding-place. Let them there remain all day to-morrow; forthe aforesaid enemy of Sir Walter doth intend to take the aforesaidlady from the Sanctuary, by force if necessary, to-morrow, ere he dothleave to join the King's army at Leicester.

  "Praying with my heart's full strength that this warning may not be toolate to save the gallant knight from the disgraceful death of a traitorto his country, I am, dear and respected sir,

  (Signed) "A FRIEND."

  "A friend? Now what friend can he be who hath access to my room whenthe door is locked?" mused Harleston.

  "Besides, he must be one in favour to have such an order as is this,"and he picked up the enclosed paper and read as follows:--

  "Unto the bearer of this order grant admittance to the Tower of London,or to any part thereof. And further, likewise permit the aforesaidbearer to have conference with any prisoner or prisoners within theTower. And further, permit the aforesaid bearer to have entrance orexit at whatever hour of day or night best conveniencing him.

  (Signed) "RICARDUS REX."

  My friend stood bent in thought for some time after reading thisstrange order. Then he raised his head quickly, as though a suddensolution of the problem had occurred to him.

  "Can it be possible that this is a plot, laid with great c
unning byCatesby, that I may be lured into the Tower, that there I may be kept?But then, this order doth command that the bearer shall also have exit.But it may be that the keepers know to whom it doth belong; and were Ito present it they may have orders to arrest me for its theft. Thatshould be a clever plan for removing me from his way. Then he mightuse force to gain admittance to the Sanctuary." These were thethoughts that now kept running through his mind, causing him greatanxiety.

  He then read the letter and order to Michael, and then told him of hisdoubts, and asked him for his opinion.

  "Sure, sor," said Michael, "methinks the chances are that it weredangerous for thee, sor, to go thoysilf into that houle o' Hill. But,yer honour, it moight have come from Lord Stanley, and it may be thetruth he sez. How'd it be, sor, if Oi moysilf wint in yer honour'splace? Sure, Sor Walter must be saved, if Oi lose a scoure o' loivesin the doin' o' it. Sure, sor, 'twould matter little if they did chopoff moy head; but if thou wert wance shut up in that damned Tower whatmoight not happen to that swate lady in the Sanctuary?" And Michael'slips closed into a straight line that bespoke no good unto those whichattempted to keep him in the Tower.

  "'Tis good, Michael, that I follow thine advice; for whilst thou artaiding Sir Walter in his escape, myself will unto the Sanctuary, andthere acquaint the Lady Hazel with our plans, and have her in readinessfor the flight. Besides," he continued, "thy presence with Sir Walterwill give me assurance that the keeper and the soldier guarding thebreach shall make no noise.

  "But come, we must make haste; for the night is already far spent, andSir Walter and his dear lady must have left the Sanctuary by the dawnof day.

  "Thou must go well armed, and take with thee a horse for Sir Walter."

  "Oi will, sor."

  "Do thou make ready the horses, that the grooms may know not who tookthem from the stable."

  "Hadn't Oi bist take with me anither sword for Sor Walter? Thimspalpeens took his own from him, bad luck to thim fer it."

  "Yes, Michael; 'twas thoughtful of thee to remember this necessity.

  "And now, Michael, for thy directions:--

  "Tether your horses in some quiet, and not too light, spot. Thenproceed unto the western entrance, and to the officer in charge thereofpresent this order, being sure, however, to have him return it untothee. In the same manner, providing that this order be not a trap,shalt thou pass the other gates. Inform these officers that thou dostdesire to be taken unto the prison of Sir Walter Bradley, in the squaretower. When thou dost see Sir Walter do not appear friendly with himif there be more than the one keeper present, lest it doth cause themto watch ye too closely. Thou knowest best how to silence the keeper.

  "When this is accomplished give the letter unto Sir Walter. He willthen know how to follow its directions.

  "When ye are once out (if Heaven doth so far favour ye) come with allhaste unto the Sanctuary, where the Lady Hazel shall be in readiness."

  Whilst Harleston had been thus giving Michael his instructions theyboth had been arming each other in haste. They were now fully ready;so Michael went to prepare the horses. Frederick then followed Michaelto the stables, and in a short time they were ready to set out.

  "Do thou go first, Michael, and have a great care that thou dost followclosely the instructions that I gave thee. Pray God that thou dostsucceed," and he gripped Michael's giant hand with a force that assuredhim, had he not already been aware of it, of his sincerity.

  "Oi'll remimber, sor, and do as thou hast said. And be sure of this,yer honour; if the order be but a trap, moure than wan man now aloiveand will shall see Gawd, or the divil, afore they take Moichael aprisoner." With this he was off, and Harleston stood for some momentsgazing after the gigantic monument of honesty as he gradually fadedfrom view and was swallowed up in the darkness. Then he himselfmounted and started on his mission.

  He had not, however, left the courtyard when he met a horseman, whichcalled out to him as they passed each other:--"'Tis late for thee to beriding forth upon a journey, Sir Frederick. And besides, the road isdark to travel thus, alone." It was Catesby.

  "Thanks for thy kindly warning," returned Frederick; "but I have but ashort distance to travel, and the way, methinks, is safe." He thenrode on; but for a few rods only; for here his horse stopped of its ownaccord.

  As the noise of the horse's hoofs ceased suddenly, Frederick distinctlyheard a low laugh come from out of the darkness, and in the directionwhere last he had seen Catesby.

  "I fear Michael shall not return," thought Frederick, as he againproceeded on his way.

  [1] Rous, the historian, states that these lines were written by LordRivers, during that unfortunate nobleman's imprisonment at Pomfret.K.M.