“I will tell you why,” rejoined Rodomont. “In this high place none can overhear us, so we may talk freely. Gardiner would fain be Archbishop of Canterbury, but he knows that if Cranmer be burnt, our lord the Cardinal will at once be appointed to the archiepiscopal see. Therefore Cranmer is allowed to live, in the hope that Pole may be recalled to Rome by his Holiness. But the crafty Bishop of Winchester will be disappointed, for the Cardinal is not likely to leave his native country again.” “I am rejoiced to hear it,” said Simnel. “We could ill spare him. The Cardinal is the pillar of the Romish church in England.” “By our Lady, he is a pattern to all,” cried Rodomont. “There lives not a better man than his Eminence. Even the Queen, they say, is governed by his advice. He has more influence with her than the King himself.” “Like enough,” observed Jack Holiday, “for they do say that the royal couple, like other married folk, have an occasional quarrel. Her Majesty is plaguily jealous.” “And not without reason,” said Rodomont, with a laugh. “It was not to be expected that the King, who is of an amorous complexion, as all the world knows, should continue faithful to a woman eleven years older than himself, and ill-favoured into the bargain. He wants something younger and better-looking.” “Like poor Constance Tyrrell,” said Nick Simnel; “she who is shut up yonder,” he added, pointing to the Lollard’s Tower. “Ay, and she will never get out unless she yields to the King’s wishes,” observed Jack Holiday. “Don’t be too sure of that,” rejoined Rodomont. “It will be her own fault if she remains here another twenty-four hours.” “How so?—who will unlock the door for her?—not her gaoler?” said Holiday. “Not her gaoler, fool,” rejoined Rodomont, “but her lover, Osbert Clinton. Since he can’t unlock the door, he will unbar the window. You are both too generous to betray him, I know, and therefore I’ll e’en tell you what occurred last night. While making my rounds, a little after midnight, I entered the outer court, and was standing near the Water Tower, when looking up, I espied a head above yon ivied wall, which divides the court from the river. In another moment a body became visible as well as a head, and before I could count twenty a man dropped from the top of the wall into the court. It was Osbert Clinton. I recognised him even in that imperfect light, or I should have challenged him. Guessing his purpose, I retired, placing myself so that I could watch his movements without being perceived. As I expected, his errand was to the Lollard’s Tower, though how he hoped to gain admittance to Constance’s cell passed my comprehension.” “And did he gain admittance to her?” inquired Holiday. “You shall hear,” replied Rodomont “Yon small grated window in the upper part of the tower belongs to her cell. How, think you, he contrived to reach it?” “Nay, I can’t say,” replied Holiday. “He could scarcely climb up to it.”