discern the features of the latter, when it appeared, from his ghastly looks, his blood-stained apparel, and his hair, which was closely matted to his head by the ruddy stream that flowed from it, that some severe punishment had been recently inflicted upon him. He was a young man of nineteen or twenty, habited in a coarse dress of brown serge, of a slight but well-proportioned figure, and handsome features, though now distorted with pain and sullied with blood, and was instantly recognised by Cholmondelcy as the individual who had rowed Gunnora Braose towards the Queen. On making the discovery, Cholmondeley instantly demanded, in a stern tone, of the heralds, how they had dared, in direct opposition to their sovereign’s injunctions, to punish an offender whom she had pardoned. “We have the Duke of Northumberland’s authority for what we have done,” replied the foremost herald, sullenly; “that is sufficient for us.” “The punishment we have inflicted is wholly disproportioned to the villain’s offence, which is little short of high treason,” observed the other. “When we proclaimed the Queen’s Highness at Cheapside, the audacious knave mounted a wall, flung his cap into the air, and shouted for Queen Mary. For this we set him in the pillory, and nailed his head to the wood; and he may think himself fortunate if he loseth it not as well as his ears, which have been cut off by the hangman.” “Ungrateful wretch!” cried Cholmondeley, addressing the prisoner, his former commiseration being now changed to anger; “is it thus you requite the bounty of your Queen?” “I will never acknowledge a usurper,” returned Gilbert, firmly. “Peace!” cried the esquire; “your rashness will destroy you.” “It may so,” retorted Gilbert, boldly; “but while I have a tongue to wag, it shall clamour for Queen Mary.” “Where are you going to bestow the prisoner?” inquired Gog from the foremost herald. “In the guard-room,” replied the man, “or some other place of security, till we learn his grace’s pleasure.” “Bring him to the Stone Kitchen, then,” returned Gog. “He will be as safe there as anywhere else, and you will be none the worse for a can of good liquor, and a slice of one of Dame Trusbut’s notable pasties.’” 0053