The Tower of London: A Historical Romance, IllustratedAinsworth, William Harrison
General
The Tower of London: A Historical Romance, Illustrated
Ainsworth, William Harrison
Grey, Jane, Lady, 1537-1554 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Tower of London (London, England) -- Fiction
“What motive could the duke have for so foul a crime?” demanded the
queen.
“This,” replied Gunnora; “he wished to remove the king so suddenly,
that the princesses Mary and Elizabeth might have no intelligence of his
decease. But this is not all, madam.”
“What more remains to be told?” asked Jane.
“You were to be the next victim,” returned the old woman.
“Northumberland aimed at the supreme power. With this view, he wedded
you to his son; with this view, he procured the letters patent from King
Edward declaring you his successor; with this view, he proclaimed you
queen, raised you to the throne, and would have made your husband king.
His next step was to have poisoned you.”
“Poisoned me!” exclaimed Jane, horror-stricken.
“Ay, poisoned you,” repeated Gunnora. “I was to administer the fatal
draught to you as I did to Edward. It was therefore I warned you not to
enter the Tower. It was therefore I counselled you to resign a sceptre
which I knew you could not sustain. I saw you decked out like a victim
for the sacrifice, and I strove to avert the fatal blow—but in vain.”
“Alas! I begin to find your words are true,” replied Jane. “But if aught
remains to me of power, if I am not a queen merely in name, I will now
exert it. My lord of Pembroke, I command you to summon the guard, and
arrest this traitor,” pointing to Simon Renard. “I will not sleep till I
have had his head. How, my lord, do you refuse to obey me? Hesitate, and
you shall share his doom.”
At this moment, Cholmondeley threw off his cloak, and advancing towards
the ambassador, said, “M. Simon Renard, you are the queen’s prisoner.”
“Cholmondeley!” exclaimed Renard, starting; “can it be?”
“It is, traitor,” replied the esquire; “but I will now unmask you and
your projects.”
“Back, sir!” cried Renard, in a tone so authoritative that all were
overawed by it. “Lay hands upon me, and I give a signal which will
cause a general massacre, in which none of Queen Mary’s enemies will
be spared. Lady Jane Dudley,” he continued, addressing her, “I give you
till to-morrow to reflect upon what course you will pursue. Resign the
crown you have wrongfully assumed, and I pledge my word to obtain your
pardon. But Northumberland’s life is forfeited, and that of all his
race.”
“Think you I will sacrifice my husband, traitor?” cried Jane. “Seize
him,” she added, to Cholmondeley.
But before the young man could advance, Renard had unsheathed his sword,
and placed himself in a posture of defence. “Lady Jane Dudley,” he
ejaculated, “I give you till to-morrow. Your own conduct will decide
your fate.”
“Call the guard,” cried Jane.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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