Sir Thomas Wyatt was brought to the scaffold on the 12th April,[442] and so contradictory are the statements as to his conduct and words at the moment of death, concerning the guilt of the accused pair, that absolutely nothing can be deduced from them. According to the sheriffs who were present at his last interview with Courtenay, Wyatt asked his pardon for accusing him. According to Lord Chandos, who was also present, he urged Courtenay to confess his crime. On the scaffold he is said to have uttered these words: “Where it is noised abroad, that I should accuse the Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Courtenay, it is not so, good people; for I assure you, neither they nor any other now yonder in hold, was privy of my rising before I began, as I have declared no less to the Queen’s Council, and that is most true”. Upon this, however, Weston said: “Mark this, my masters, that that which he hath shown to the Council of them in writing is true,” and Wyatt by his silence implied that he consented to what Weston had said.[443] But as no fresh evidence was forthcoming, and as the case against Elizabeth had not been formally proved, she was released from the Tower on the 18th May, exactly two months after her committal. As she left, three volleys of artillery were discharged from the Steelyard in sign of rejoicing and congratulation.[3] A few days later Courtenay was also released, and sent to Fotheringhay. Sir Henry Bedingfeld had already for some time had the charge of the Princess, and it was to his care, and that of the Lord Williams of Thame, that she was confided, on her removal to Woodstock. Foxe’s account of the supposed insults offered to her by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, totally unsupported by any other evidence, falls into the region of romance, the source of much that has been written about Elizabeth at this period. When she came to the throne Bedingfeld frequently appeared at court and was on the best terms with her, she playfully styling him her jailer. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was very closely kept and watched during the months of her captivity at Woodstock, allowed to see none but those appointed to be near her, and deprived of materials for writing, even to Mary, unless with direct permission. It would, however, have been very unlike what we know of her astuteness, if she had not contrived means of communication with her friends. It was shortly before leaving Woodstock, that she wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass, the famous three lines, two of which sum up the whole case for and against her:— Much suspected by me, Nothing proved can be, Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.