The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  The old Countess stretched out her withered arms, and, in a voice that appalled even Henry, exclaimed, “Tremble, thou man of blood! Barbarities unheard of have marked thy reign! Thou hast destroyed the best of the priesthood, and the wisest of thy counsellors! Thou hast cut off the flower of the nobility, and now thou hast come to defenceless and unoffending women! Tremble, I say! — the measure of thine iniquity is complete!”

  “What, ho, lieutenant!” vociferated Henry; “let us forth. This crazy beldame stuns me with her talk, and scares the Queen. Conduct me to your lodgings. I will sign her death-warrant before I quit the Tower! Come, Kate!”

  But the Queen was so terrified that she could scarcely move.

  As she essayed to follow, the old Countess came up to her, and said, in a low voice, “The blessing of a dying woman rest upon you! Heaven grant you may not be a victim of this merciless tyrant!”

  VI. In what Manner the old Countess of Salisbury was put to Death.

  HENRY’S ruthless treatment of the old Countess of Salisbury revived all Catherine’s terrors.

  Never had he exhibited such violence in her presence — never had he so utterly disregarded her feelings; and she shuddered to think that she was united to a tyrant, who would sacrifice her without hesitation, in a moment of anger.

  For awhile, she scarcely dared to look at him lest she should betray what was passing in her breast.

  Luckily, he gave little heed to her. On quitting the Tower, he proceeded in his barge to Lambeth Palace, where he had a long interview with Cranmer.

  At its close he went on direct to Windsor Castle, and was engaged during the whole time in deep discourse with the Earl of Hertford, whom he had met at Lambeth.

  They were deliberating upon the best means of putting down the insurrection, which the Earl was disposed to regard as a serious affair. At the King’s request, Hertford undertook the task, and agreed to set out for the North forthwith. Henry charged him to show no mercy to the rebels. We shall see anon how well he fulfilled his Majesty’s commands.

  Two days afterwards, when she had somewhat recovered from the shock she had received, Catherine learnt the terrible details of the old Countess’s death, not from the King, but from Adrian Culpepper, who had witnessed the execution. No one was with the Queen but Lady Rochford, when she listened to the mournful narration.

  “All is over with the noblest and best lady in England,” said Adrian; “and though she bore herself to the end with a courage never surpassed under such dreadful circumstances, I cannot reflect upon her death without grief and horror.

  “A spectacle so frightful I never thought to witness. The scaffold was reared on the Tower Green, opposite St. Peter’s Church; and as the King had given orders that the execution should be private, none but officials were allowed to be present. I was there, in obedience to his Majesty’s injunctions, and was stationed near Sir William Kingston.

  “When the Countess was brought forth from her prison, she surprised us all by her firmness, and by the majesty of her deportment. Not an inch of her lofty stature was lost as she marched to death. A smile irradiated her pallid features, and her looks were fixed upon heaven.

  “I was standing near the foot of the scaffold, and as she approached, she looked hard at me; and, thinking she had something to say, I went close up to her. ‘I have left a little reliquary for the Queen,’ she said. ‘My confessor will give it to you. Tell her I prayed for her.’”

  “Alas!” exclaimed Catherine. “Coming from her, the reliquary will be doubly sacred.”

  “I now come to the saddest part of my relation, and I would not pain you with it, did I not think needful you should learn the martyrdom she has undergone.”

  “Go on, I pray you,” said the Queen.

  “Her confessor awaited her on the scaffold, and near the block stood the masked executioner, leaning on his axe — a horrible object. No female attendant was present. She who had once had twenty women at her beck, had then not one.

  “Kneeling down beside her confessor, she prayed long and fervently. When she arose, she exclaimed in an audible voice, ‘Blessed are they who suffer persecution for righteousness sake.’ As she stood there at that moment, with her white locks streaming over her shoulders, her expression was sublime. I have her before me now.”

  “I, myself, can picture her,” exclaimed the Queen. “While she stood thus, the horrible masked personage, who had hitherto remained motionless as a statue, stepped up to her, and touching her shoulder, said, in a rough, insolent tone, ‘Kneel down, madam, and place your head upon the block.”

  “Recoiling from his touch, as if he had been a reptile, and regarding him with scorn, she exclaimed, indignantly, ‘Kneel at thy bidding, fellow — never!’

  ‘Make no more ado, proud dame,’ he rejoined. ‘’Tis customary for traitors to die thus.’

  ‘But I am no traitor,’ she rejoined, energetically. ‘If you want my head, you must get it as you can.’

  “With this, she flew to the further side of the scaffold, but the caitiff pursued her, and seizing her reverend locks, dragged her to the block. A scene of horror followed, which I will not attempt to describe; but before it closed, that noble form was ruthlessly mangled, and those snowy locks dabbled with blood.”

  “Horror!” exclaimed both his hearers; while the Queen placed her hands before her eyes, as if to exclude some dreadful sight.

  “What will Cardinal Pole say when he hears of his mother’s terrible end?” observed Lady Rochford.

  “He may console himself with the reflection that he is the son of a martyr, and that he has one more patron saint in heaven,” replied Adrian.

  “Truly she has won her crown of martyrdom for her constancy to the Catholic faith!” exclaimed the Queen.

  “Here is the reliquary she left you, madam,” said Adrian. “It was given me by her confessor, when all was over.”

  Catherine pressed the little casket fervently to her bosom.

  VII. How Dereham was appointed the Queen’s Secretary.

  THE Catholic insurrection in the North was speedily quelled by the Earl of Hertford, who made a severe example of the rebels. Sir John Neville was beheaded at York, and several priests, who had instigated the rising, were hanged at the same time.

  The result of the outbreak was naturally to restore the Protestant party to favour, and prejudice the Romanists. Norfolk and Gardiner were still at the head of affairs, but their influence was materially shaken, and the bitter persecution of the partisans of the new learning was checked.

  But the Protestant leaders could not feel secure so long as a Catholic Queen was on the throne. Suspecting some sinister designs against her, Catherine, aided by Lady Rochford, took all possible precautions to prevent the discovery of the fatal secret that poisoned her existence.

  At last, they succeeded in removing Mary Lassells. How this was accomplished, we shall proceed to relate.

  At the instance of the Earl of Hertford, who, since his expedition, was in very high favour, the King had resolved to make a progress into Yorkshire, in order to awe his disaffected subjects by his presence.

  Hertford’s object in making this suggestion was to obtain the administration of affairs during the King’s absence, and he succeeded in his design. Henry appointed him head of an Anti-Papal Council, which comprised Cranmer and Audeley — thus superseding, for the time, Norfolk and Gardiner.

  The Queen’s enemies were therefore in the ascendant, and it behoved her to guard against their machinations. Hitherto, Cranmer had shown no hostility towards her, but his forbearance could not be relied on.

  Mary Lassells desired to be included among the Queen’s attendants during the progress; but to this, Catherine objected. Still, it would not be safe to leave the mischievous woman behind. What was to be done?

  Both the Queen and her confidante were terribly perplexed. The time for the King’s setting forth on his progress was at hand, and the difficulty had not been obviated. Lassells was impracticable as ever
.

  The Court had returned to Greenwich, preparatory to the departure. One evening, while Catherine and Lady Rochford were alone together in the Queen’s cabinet, the tapestry was raised, and Dereham stood before them.

  His manner was changed, and for the better. He was handsomely attired in black velvet, and had none of the audacity that he had formerly exhibited, but looked grave and respectful. He hastened to dispel the alarm occasioned by his sudden appearance.

  “I have ventured to present myself thus to your Highness,” he said, “because I can relieve you from an embarrassment, in which I know you are placed. You desire to be freed of Mary Lassells?”

  “I do,” replied the Queen. “Can you prevail on her to depart?”

  “I can remove her,” he replied. “She shall not trouble you more. She shall not breathe a word against you. This very night she shall disappear. Nor shall there be any clue to her place of concealment.”

  “What reward do you expect for this service?” inquired Lady Rochford. —

  Dereham smiled gravely, and bowed.

  “I ask to be appointed the Queen’s secretary,” he said.

  “My secretary!” exclaimed Catherine, indignantly. “Impossible!”

  “Nothing less will content me,” he replied, quietly. “This woman’s instant removal is the only way to baffle the designs of your enemies. Cranmer will seek for her to-morrow. He must not find her.”

  “No, no! he must not!” cried Lady Rochford, eagerly. “But you must feel that your request cannot be complied with. Were the Queen to grant it, discovery must inevitably ensue.”

  “Have no fear of that,” he rejoined. “I can so transform my features, that no one, not even Adrian Culpepper, shall recognise me as Francis Dereham,”

  And as he spoke, he produced such a wondrous change in his visage and general appearance, that both the Queen and Lady Rochford were astounded.

  They could scarcely believe he was the same individual they had looked upon. He seemed to have grown ten years older in a moment, and a slight stoop shortened his stature. His voice was likewise altered.

  “You will be pleased, henceforth, to know me as Hugh Tilney,” he said. “I think I may consider myself appointed your Highness’s secretary?”

  “Yes, let it be so,” whispered Lady Rochford to the Queen. “You have no option.”

  Dereham smiled internally, for he guessed what she said.

  “I must pray your Highness to decide quickly,” he remarked, “perceiving that Catherine hesitated.

  “As Hugh Tilney you are appointed,” she said. “But you are never, on any pretence, to resume your former character — never to be otherwise than a secretary should be — respectful in deportment, and obedient to my orders.”

  “That is quite understood, madam,” he rejoined. “Of course I am to attend you during the progress?”

  Catherine assented, with a sigh.

  “Do not disquiet yourself further about Mary Lassells,” he said. “She will quit the Palace to-night — never to return. To-morrow, Hugh Tilney will present himself.”

  Making a profound reverence, he drew back, raised the arras, and disappeared.

  “That man must have dealings with Satan,” said Lady Rochford, with a shudder.

  “Why did you persuade me to accede to his request?” said the Queen, reproachfully.

  “There was no help for it,” rejoined Lady Rochford. “There is less danger with him than with Lassells.”

  “I do not think so,” said Catherine. “He will he a constant spy over me.”

  That night, a man of a complexion so swarthy, that he looked like an African, brought a letter for Mary Lassells, which he would only deliver into her own hand.

  After reading it, she said a few words to him in an under-tone, and shortly afterwards quitted the Palace.

  One of the yeomen belonging to the royal barge, who chanced to be near the privy stairs, declared that she entered a boat with the mysterious messenger. Nothing more was seen of her.

  Next day, Hugh Tilney was admitted to the Queen’s household, in the capacity of her Highness’s private secretary. From his gravity, quietude, and deferential manner, he seemed well suited to the office.

  VIII. The Royal Progress to the North.

  HENRY set out on his journey to the North in truly regal style.

  Proceeding by very easy stages, he rested each day at the mansion of some nobleman, or wealthy gentleman, who had made preparations to receive him and his numerous suite.

  The Queen, and the ladies of her household, travelled in splendid chariots, or litters; but Catherine not unfrequently mounted her palfrey, and rode by the side of the King, who preferred being on horseback.

  The royal pair invariably entered a town in this fashion, for Henry delighted in presenting his lovely consort to the admiring gaze of his subjects.

  Half a mile in advance of the cavalcade, which, seen even at that distance, presented a most splendid appearance, rode fifty spearmen, with trumpeters, whose loud flourishes summoned forth the inhabitants of each town they passed through.

  A large company of Court gallants, in doublets of blue velvet and crimson satin, and wearing gold chains round the neck, followed the King, while pages and running footmen, in damask satin, attended the Queen.

  Catherine was accompanied by her confessor and almoner, her comptroller, treasurer, private secretary, marshals, gentlemen ushers, grooms of the chamber — in short, by all the officers of the household. Only Lady Rochford sat with her in her chariot.

  Henry, who seemed greatly to enjoy the expedition — as he well might, since everything was done to render it pleasant to him — conversed freely with his attendants, and laughed heartily at the jests of Will Sommers, who was constantly near him.

  The persons in immediate attendance upon the King were the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Anthony Browne, but no one was more distinguished by his Majesty’s notice than Adrian Culpepper.

  If a message had to be sent to the Queen, Adrian was sure to be bearer of it, and did his devoir gallantly.

  Catherine bestowed her sweetest smiles upon him as he aided her to mount her palfrey; and he was tormented by no jealousy, for he never dreamed that the new secretary, who kept sedulously out of his sight, was the detested Francis Dereham.

  Admirable arrangements were made to ensure the King’s comfort during his progress. A host of purveyors, cooks, confectioners, farriers, yeomen of the chariot, and grooms of the stable, with led horses, were sent on, so that nothing should be wanting.

  Proceeding, as we have said, from one large mansion to another, the luxurious monarch taxed the owner’s hospitality to the utmost, and always expected that a grand banquet should be offered him on his arrival.

  Rarely did he pass more than one night at a house; but, if his reception satisfied him, he was not unwilling to prolong his stay.

  At the princely mansion of Grafton, in Northamptonshire, where he was sumptuously entertained, and where grand banquets and costly masques were given him, he remained for nearly a week — devoting the mornings to hunting, hawking, and other sports and pastimes, and the evenings to festivity and revelry.

  Lincolnshire having been implicated in the late revolt, before entering the county, he caused a proclamation to be made by sound of trumpet, in all the cities and towns, that the King looked for the humble submission of the inhabitants.

  Such an injunction could not be disregarded. Henry’s liegemen well knew that their tyrannical Sovereign’s pardon could only be purchased by rich gifts. Accordingly, five hundred pounds was presented to him by the two cities of Lincoln and Boston — other towns giving in proportion.

  But, in Yorkshire, the King’s exactions were far heavier. All those concerned in the rebellion, or suspected of being concerned in it, and who sought immunity for their offences, had to purchase it at a dearer rate.

  At the borders of the county, a large number of gentlemen awaited his coming, ready to make submission.

  On an ex
tensive plain, just beyond Bawtrey, the King and Queen were met by two hundred Catholic gentlemen, all richly apparelled and well mounted.

  With them were two thousand tall yeomen and serving-men, clad in the liveries of their masters, and making a very goodly appearance — so much so, that as Henry surveyed them, he observed to Sir Anthony Browne, “By St. Anne! those are stout fellows, and might prove dangerous rebels.”

  At the head of the horsemen was Sir Robert Bowes, a Yorkshire gentleman of ancient lineage, and a Catholic. Sir Robert rode slowly towards the King, who halted with the whole of his cortege.

  The scene was very striking. Surrounding the royal pair, and such of their attendants as were permitted to be near them, were the spearmen, in glittering morions and corslets. Behind, was arranged a brilliant assemblage of high-born dames, nobles, and esquires.

  Catherine was on her palfrey, and, by her smiles and gracious deportment, presented a strong contrast to her imperious spouse, whose countenance was clothed with frowns.

  When within a certain distance of the King, Sir Robert Bowes signed to his followers, who instantly dismounted and knelt down, the whole of the yeomen and serving-men following their example.

  Sir Robert then prostated himself before the King, and, in humble terms, besought pardon for himself and his companions.

  Henry regarded him sternly.

  “Ye merit punishment rather than pardon for your treasonable doings,” he cried. “Howbeit, our disposition being merciful, as ye wot, we are willing to accept your submission and extend our grace towards you, provided ye make ample amends.”

  “We have brought with us nine hundred pounds, sire; and we humbly crave your acceptance of the sum as a peace-offering,” replied Sir Robert.

  “’Tis not enough,” remarked Will Sommers, who was close behind the King. “Bid him make it a thousand, or you will refuse the pardon.”

  “Peace, knave!” cried Henry. “You speak fairly, Sir Robert,” he added, more graciously. “Believing that you and your companions have been misled by false and cunning priests, who have already suffered for their offences — seeing, also, that you have returned to your duty and allegiance, and trusting that you will henceforward continue in loyalty and obedience to us, we grant your prayer. Rise, Sir Robert. You and your companions are pardoned.”