In the Strand the Earl of Courtenay, with his soldiers, was stationed. He had engaged to join Wyatt, but had not the courage to do either one thing or the other, for at the sight of him he fled. Doubly treacherous, he was a traitor to the queen and also to Wyatt. At Ludgate, Wyatt found the gates were closed, and Lord William Howard appeared above them, crying-- 'Avaunt, traitor! Avaunt! You enter not here!' This was a truly awful reception, instead of the promised welcome. And the brave knight must have felt stunned and bewildered as he turned to assist his troops, only to be met by a crowd of the enemy under Pembroke. In desperation, Sir Thomas, closely followed by Sir Hubert, fought his way back as far as the Temple, where he found that he had only fifty followers remaining. (The other troops, which he had left in Hyde Park, were fighting at Whitehall and Westminster, but of that he knew nothing, having lost touch with them and being without cognisance of their doings, which came to nothing.) The King-at-arms called upon Sir Thomas to yield and not madly sacrifice his brave companions, yet he continued fighting desperately. He was beaten back, by overwhelming numbers, down Fleet Street, until he sank exhausted on a fish-stall, opposite La Belle Sauvage. His sword was broken, and, throwing it away, he surrendered himself to Sir Maurice Berkely. At the same moment, Sir Hubert Blair, his aide-de-camp, overpowered by numbers, was taken prisoner. So much I was told. At the time, Lady Jane and I knew little of all these happenings, and our suspense was terrible. After the first crashing of our cannonade, when Sir Thomas attempted crossing London Bridge, nothing quite so alarming was to be heard in the Tower, only on the next day there were the booming of guns and the roar of battle in London. And then news came to us that the brave knights were defeated, that they had been forced to surrender, and that the Guards were bringing them to the Tower. Lady Jane, knowing how my heart was wrung, did all in her power to sustain me. Forgetting or ignoring the far greater issues she herself had at stake, she endeavoured to fortify my mind and calm it by prayer and wise counsel, and now, when it was all over and they were bringing my lover, with Sir Thomas Wyatt, to the Tower, exerted herself to obtain leave for me to mingle with the spectators and see them brought in. 'Though perhaps,' she said, 'it will be a doubtful benefit for you to see your lover in his defeat.' But my heart craved for one sight of his dear face, and I answered, 'I can bear it all better, if I see him once more.' 'You shall, dear Margery, if I can possibly compass it,' she said. And success crowned her efforts, for our warder, having leave of absence, took me himself to join the crowd hurrying across the Green, towards the entrance by which those guilty of high treason were brought to the Tower.