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Windsor Castle

W >> William Harrison Ainsworth >> Windsor Castle




"You amaze me!" cried the king, feigning astonishment. "And all this
you freely give me?"

"Freely and fully, sire," replied Wolsey. "Nay, I have saved it for you.
Men think I have cared for myself, whereas I have cared only for your
majesty. Oh! my dear liege, by the devotion I have just approved to
you, and which I would also approve, if needful, with my life, I beseech
you to consider well before you raise Anne Boleyn to the throne. In
giving you this counsel, I know I hazard the favour I have just regained.
But even at that hazard, I must offer it. Your infatuation blinds you to
the terrible consequences of the step. The union is odious to all your
subjects, but most of all to those not tainted with the new heresies and
opinions. It will never be forgiven by the Emperor Charles the Fifth,
who will seek to avenge the indignity offered to his illustrious relative;
while Francis will gladly make it a pretext for breaking his truce with
you. Add to this the displeasure of the Apostolic See, and it must be
apparent that, powerful as you are, your position will be one of infinite
peril."

"Thus far advanced, I cannot honourably abandon the divorce," said
Henry.

"Nor do I advise its abandonment, sire," replied Wolsey; "but do not let
it be a means of injuring you with all men. Do not let a mal-alliance
place your very throne in jeopardy; as, with your own subjects and all
foreign powers against you, must necessarily be the case."

"You speak warmly, cardinal," said Henry.

"My zeal prompts me to do so," replied Wolsey. "Anne Boleyn is in no
respect worthy of the honour you propose her."

"And whom do you think more worthy?" demanded Henry.

"Those whom I have already recommended to your majesty, the
Duchess d'Alencon, or the Princess Renee," replied Wolsey; "by a union
with either of whom you would secure the cordial co-operation of
Francis, and the interests of the see of Rome, which, in the event of a
war with Spain, you may need."

"No, Wolsey," replied Henry, taking a hasty turn across the chamber;
"no considerations of interests or security shall induce me to give up
Anne. I love her too well for that. Let the lion Charles roar, the fox
Francis snarl, and the hydra-headed Clement launch forth his flames, I
will remain firm to my purpose. I will not play the hypocrite with you,
whatever I may do with others. I cast off Catherine that I may wed
Anne, because I cannot otherwise obtain her. And shall I now, when I
have dared so much, and when the prize is within my grasp, abandon
it?--Never! Threats, expostulations, entreaties are alike unavailing."

"I grieve to hear it, my liege," replied Wolsey, heaving a deep sigh. "It
is an ill-omened union, and will bring woe to you, woe to your realm,
and woe to the Catholic Church."

"And woe to you also, false cardinal," cried Anne Boleyn, throwing
aside the arras, and stepping forward. "I have overheard what has
passed; and from my heart of hearts I thank you, Henry, for the love
you have displayed for me. But I here solemnly vow never to give my
hand to you till Wolsey is dismissed from your counsels."

"Anne!" exclaimed the king.

"My own enmity I could forego," pursued Anne vehemently,"but I
cannot forgive him his duplicity and perfidy towards you. He has just
proffered you his splendid palace of Hampton, and his treasures; and
wherefore?--I will tell you: because he feared they would be wrested
from him. His jester had acquainted him with the discovery just made
of the secret hoard, and he was therefore compelled to have recourse
to this desperate move. But I was apprized of his intentions by Will
Sommers, and have come in time to foil him."

"By my faith, I believe you are right, sweetheart," said the king.

"Go, tell your allies, Francis and Clement, that the king's love for me
outweighs his fear of them," cried Anne, laughing spitefully. "As for
you, I regard you as nothing."

"Vain woman, your pride will be abased," rejoined Wolsey bitterly.

"Vain man, you are already abased," replied Anne. "A few weeks ago I
would have made terms with you. Now I am your mortal enemy, and
will never rest till I have procured your downfall."

"The king will have an amiable consort, truly," sneered Wolsey.

"He will have one who can love him and hate his foes," replied Anne;
"and not one who would side with them and thee, as would be the case
with the Duchess d'Alencon or the Princess Renee. Henry, you know
the sole terms on which you can procure my hand."

The king nodded a playful affirmative.

"Then dismiss him at once, disgrace him," said Anne.

"Nay, nay," replied Henry," the divorce is not yet passed. You are
angered now, and will view matters more coolly to-morrow."

"I shall never change my resolution," she replied.

"If my dismissal and disgrace can save my sovereign, I pray him to
sacrifice me without hesitation," said Wolsey; "but while I have liberty
of speech with him, and aught of power remaining, I will use it to his
advantage. I pray your majesty suffer me to retire."

And receiving a sign of acquiescence from the king, he withdrew, amid
the triumphant laughter of Anne.



IX. How Tristram Lyndwood was interrogated by the King.


Anne Boleyn remained with her royal lover for a few minutes to pour
forth her gratitude for the attachment he had displayed to her, and to
confirm the advantage she had gained over Wolsey. As soon as she
was gone, Henry summoned an usher, and giving him some instructions
respecting Mabel Lyndwood, proceeded to the Curfew Tower.

Nothing was said to him of the strange noise that had been heard in the
upper chamber, for the arquebusiers were fearful of exciting his
displeasure by a confession of their alarm, and he descended at once
to the dungeon.

"Well, fellow," he cried, sternly regarding the captive, who arose at his
entrance, "you have now had ample time for reflection, and I trust are in
a better frame of mind than when I last spoke with you. I command you
to declare all you know concerning Herne the Hunter, and to give me
such information respecting the proscribed felon, Morgan Fenwolf, as
will enable me to accomplish his capture."

"I have already told your highness that my mouth is sealed by an oath
of secrecy," replied Tristram, humbly, but firmly.

"Obstinate dog! thou shalt either speak, or I will hang thee from the top
of this tower, as I hanged Mark Fytton the butcher," roared Henry.

"You will execute your sovereign pleasure, my liege," said the old man.
"My life is in your hands. It is little matter whether it is closed now or a
year hence. I have well nigh run out my term."

"If thou carest not for thyself, thou mayest not be equally indifferent to
another," cried the king. "What ho! bring in his granddaughter."

The old man started at the command, and trembled violently. The next
moment, Mabel was led into the dungeon by Shoreditch and
Paddington. Behind her came Nicholas Clamp. On seeing her grandsire,
she uttered a loud cry and would have rushed towards him, but she was
held back by her companions.

"Oh grandfather!" she cried, "what have you done?-why do I find you
here?"

Tristram groaned, and averted his head.

"He is charged with felony and sorcery," said the king sternly, and you,
maiden, come under the same suspicion."

"Believe it not, sire," cried the old man, flinging himself at Henry's feet;
"oh, believe it not. Whatever you may judge of me, believe her
innocent. She was brought up most devoutly, by a lay sister of the
monastery at Chertsey; and she knows nothing, save by report, of what
passes in the forest."

"Yet she has seen and conversed with Morgan Fenwolf," the king.

"Not since he was outlawed," said Tristram.

"I saw him to--day, as I was brought to the castle," cried Mabel, "and--"
but recollecting that she might implicate her grandfather, she suddenly
stopped.

"What said he ?--ha!" demanded the king.

"I will tell your majesty what passed," interposed Nicholas Clamp,
stepping forward, "for I was with the damsel at the time. He came upon
us suddenly from behind a great tree, and ordered her to accompany
him to her grandsire."

"Ha!" exclaimed the king.

"But he had no authority for what he said, I am well convinced,"
pursued Clamp. "Mabel disbelieved him and refused to go, and I should
have captured him if the fiend he serves had not lent him a helping
hand."

"What says the prisoner himself to this? " observed the king. "Didst
thou send Fenwolf on the errand?"

"I did," replied Tristram. " I sent him to prevent her from going to the
castle."

Mabel sobbed audibly.

"Thou art condemned by thy own confession, caitiff," said the king,
"and thou knowest upon what terms alone thou canst save thyself from
the hangman, and thy grand-daughter from the stake."

"Oh, mercy, sire, mercy! " shrieked Mabel.

"Your fate rests with your grandsire," said the king sternly. "If he
chooses to be your executioner he will remain silent."

"Oh, speak, grandsire, speak!" cried Mabel. "What matters the violation
of an unholy vow?"

"Give me till to-morrow for consideration, sire," said the old man.

"Thou shalt have till midnight," replied the king; "and till then Mabel
shall remain with thee."

"I would rather be left alone," said Tristram.

"I doubt it not," replied the king; " but it shall not be." And without
bestowing a look at Mabel, whose supplications he feared might shake
his purpose, he quitted the vault with his attendants, leaving her alone
with her grandsire.

"I shall return at midnight," he said to the arquebusier stationed at the
door; "and meanwhile let no one enter the dungeon--not even the Duke
of Suffolk--unless," he added, holding forth his hand to display a ring,
"he shall bring this signet."



X. Of the Brief Advantage gained by the Queen and the Cardinal.


As the king, wholly unattended--for he had left the archers at the
Curfew Tower--was passing at the back of Saint George's Chapel, near
the north transept, he paused for a moment to look at the embattled
entrance to the New Commons--a structure erected in the eleventh year
of his own reign by James Denton, a canon, and afterwards Dean of
Lichfield, for the accommodation of such chantry priests and choristers
as had no place in the college. Over the doorway, surmounted by a
niche, ran (and still runs) the inscription--

"AEDES PRO SACELLANORUM CHORISTARUM COVIVIIS EXTRUCTA, A.D.
1519."

The building has since been converted into one of the canons' houses.

While he was contemplating this beautiful gateway, which was
glimmering in the bright moonlight, a tall figure suddenly darted from
behind one of the buttresses of the chapel, and seized his left arm with
an iron grasp. The suddenness of the attack took him by surprise; but
he instantly recovered himself, plucked away his arm, and, drawing his
sword, made a pass at his assailant, who, however, avoided the thrust,
and darted with inconceivable swiftness through the archway leading
to the cloisters. Though Henry followed as quickly as he could, he lost
sight of the fugitive, but just as he was about to enter the passage
running between the tomb-house and the chapel, he perceived a person
in the south ambulatory evidently anxious to conceal himself, and,
rushing up to him and dragging him to the light he found it was no other
than the cardinal's jester, Patch.

"What does thou here, knave?" cried Henry angrily.

"I am waiting for my master, the cardinal," replied the jester, terrified
out of his wits.

"Waiting for him here! "cried the king. " Where is he?"

"In that house," replied Patch, pointing to a beautiful bay-window, full of
stained glass, overhanging the exquisite arches of the north
ambulatory.

"Why, that is Doctor Sampson's dwelling," cried Henry; "he who was
chaplain to the queen, and is a strong opponent of the divorce.What
doth he there?"

"I am sure I know not," replied Patch, whose terror increased each
moment. "Perhaps I have mistaken the house. Indeed, I am sure it
must be Doctor Voysey's, the next door."

"Thou liest, knave! " cried Henry fiercely; "thy manner convinces me
there is some treasonable practice going forward. But I will soon find it
out. Attempt to give the alarm, and I will cut thy throat."

With this he proceeded to the back of the north ambulatory, and finding
the door he sought unfastened, raised the latch and walked softly in.
But before he got half-way down the passage, Doctor Sampson himself
issued from an inner room with a lamp in his hand. He started on
seeing the king, and exhibited great alarm.

"The Cardinal of York is here--I know it," said Henry in a deep whisper.
"Lead me to him."

"Oh, go not forward, my gracious liege!" cried Sampson, placing himself
in his path.

"Wherefore not?" rejoined the king. "Ha! what voice is that I heard in
the upper chamber? Is she here, and with Wolsey? Out of my way, man,"
he added, pushing the canon aside, and rushing up the short wooden
staircase.

When Wolsey returned from his interview with the king, which had been
so unluckily interrupted by Anne Boleyn, he found his ante-chamber
beset with a crowd of suitors to whose solicitations he was compelled
to listen, and having been detained in this manner for nearly half an
hour, he at length retired into an inner room.

"Vile sycophants!" he muttered, "they bow the knee before me, and pay
me greater homage than they render the king, but though they have fed
upon my bounty and risen by my help, not one of them, if he was aware
of my true position, but would desert me. Not one of them but would
lend a helping hand to crush me. Not one but would rejoice in my
downfall. But they have not deceived me. I knew them from the first--
saw through their hollowness and despised them. While power lasts to
me, I will punish some of them. While power lasts!" he repeated. "Have
I any power remaining? I have already given up Hampton and my
treasures to the king; and the work of spoliation once commenced, the
royal plunderer will not be content till he has robbed me of all; while his
minion, Anne Boleyn, has vowed my destruction. Well, I will not yield
tamely, nor fall unavenged."

As these thoughts passed through his mind, Patch, who had waited for
a favourable moment to approach him, delivered him a small billet
carefully sealed, and fastened with a silken thread. Wolsey took it, and
broke it open; and as his eye eagerly scanned its contents, the
expression of his countenance totally changed. A flash of joy and
triumph irradiated his fallen features; and thrusting the note into the
folds of his robe, he inquired of the jester by whom it had been brought,
and how long.

"It was brought by a messenger from Doctor Sampson," replied Patch,
"and was committed to me with special injunctions to deliver it to your
grace immediately on your return, and secretly."

The cardinal sat down, and for a few moments appeared lost in deep
reflection; he then arose, and telling Patch he should return presently,
quitted the chamber. But the jester, who was of an inquisitive turn, and
did not like to be confined to half a secret, determined to follow him,
and accordingly tracked him along the great corridor, down a winding
staircase, through a private door near the Norman Gateway, across the
middle ward, and finally saw him enter Doctor Sampson's dwelling, at
the back of the north ambulatory. He was reconnoitring the windows of
the house from the opposite side of the cloisters in the hope of
discovering something, when he was caught, as before mentioned, by
the king.

Wolsey, meanwhile, was received by Doctor Sampson at the doorway of
his dwelling, and ushered by him into a chamber on the upper floor,
wainscoted with curiously carved and lustrously black oak. A silver
lamp was burning the on the table, and in the recess of the window,
which was screened by thick curtains, sat a majestic lady, who rose on
the cardinal's entrance. It was Catherine of Arragon.

"I attend your pleasure, madam," said Wolsey, with a profound
inclination.

"You have been long in answering my summons," said the queen; "but I
could not expect greater promptitude. Time was when a summons
from Catherine of Arragon would have been quickly and cheerfully
attended to; when the proudest noble in the land would have borne her
message to you, and when you would have passed through crowds to
her audience-chamber. Now another holds her place, and she is
obliged secretly to enter the castle where she once ruled, to despatch
a valet to her enemy, to attend his pleasure, and to receive him in the
dwelling of an humble canon. Times are changed with me, Wolsey--
sadly changed."

"I have been in attendance on the king, madam, or I should have been
with you sooner," replied Wolsey. "It grieves me sorely to see you
here."

"I want not your pity," replied the queen proudly. "I did not send for you
to gratify your malice by exposing my abject state. I did not send for
you to insult me by false sympathy; but in the hope that your own
interest would induce you to redress the wrongs you have done me."

"Alas! madam, I fear it is now too late to repair the error I have
committed," said Wolsey, in a tone of affected penitence and sorrow.

"You admit, then, that it was an error," cried Catherine. "Well, that is
something. Oh! that you had paused before you began this evil work--
before you had raised a storm which will destroy me and yourself. Your
quarrel with my nephew the Emperor Charles has cost me dear, but it
will cost you yet more dearly."

"I deserve all your reproaches, madam," said Wolsey, with feigned
meekness; "and I will bear them without a murmur. But you have sent
for me for some specific object, I presume?"

"I sent for you to give me aid, as much for your own sake as mine,"
replied the queen, "for you are in equal danger. Prevent this divorce--
foil Anne--and you retain the king's favour. Our interests are so far
leagued together, that you must serve me to serve yourself. My object
is to gain time to enable my friends to act. Your colleague is secretly
favourable to me. Pronounce no sentence here, but let the cause be
removed to Rome. My nephew the emperor will prevail upon the Pope
to decide in my favour."

"I dare not thus brave the king's displeasure, madam;" replied Wolsey.

"Dissembler!" exclaimed Catherine. "I now perceive the insincerity of
your professions. This much I have said to try you. And now to my real
motive for sending for you. I have in my possession certain letters, that
will ruin Anne Boleyn with the king."

"Ha!" exclaimed the cardinal joyfully; "if that be the case, all the rest
will be easy. Let me see the letters, I pray you, madam."

Before Catherine could reply, the door was thrown violently open, and
the king stood before them.

"Soh!" roared Henry, casting a terrible look at Wolsey, "I have caught
you at your treasonable practices at last! And you, madam," he added,
turning to Catherine, who meekly, but steadily, returned his gaze, "what
brings you here again? Because I pardoned your indiscretion yesterday,
think not I shall always be so lenient. You will leave the castle
instantly. As to Wolsey, he shall render me a strict account of his
conduct."

"I have nothing to declare, my liege," replied Wolsey, recovering
himself, "I leave it to the queen to explain why I came hither."

"The explanation shall be given at once," said Catherine. "I sent for the
cardinal to request him to lay before your majesty these two letters
from Anne Boleyn to Sir Thomas Wyat, that you might judge whether
one who could write thus would make you a fitting consort. You
disbelieved my charge of levity yesterday. Read these, sire, and judge
whether I spoke the truth."

Henry glanced at the letters, and his brow grew dark.

"What say you to them, my liege?" cried Catherine, with a glance of
triumph. "In the one she vows eternal constancy to Sir Thomas Wyat,
and in the other--written after her engagement to you--he tells him that
though they can never meet as heretofore, she will always love him."

"Ten thousand furies!" cried the king. "Where got you these letters,
madam?"

"They were given to me by a tall dark man, as I quitted the castle last
night," said the queen. "He said they were taken from the person of Sir
Thomas Wyat while he lay concealed in the forest in the cave of Herne
the Hunter."

"If I thought she wrote them," cried Henry, in an access jealous fury, "I
would cast her off for ever."

"Methinks your majesty should be able to judge whether they are true
or false," said Catherine. "I know her writing well--too well, alas!--and
am satisfied they are genuine."

"I am well assured that Wyat was concealed in the Lady Anne's
chamber when your majesty demanded admittance and could not
obtain it--when the Earl of Surrey sacrificed himself for her, and for his
friend," said Wolsey.

"Perdition!" exclaimed the king, striking his brow with his clenched
hand. "Oh, Catherine!" he continued, after a pause, during which she
intently watched the workings of his countenance, "and it was for this
light-hearted creature I was about to cast you off."

"I forgive you, sire--I forgive you!" exclaimed the queen, clasping his
hands, and bedewing them with grateful tears. "You have been
deceived. Heaven keep you in the same mind!"

"You have preserved me," said Henry, " but you must not tarry here.
Come with me to the royal lodgings."

"No, Henry," replied Catherine, with a shudder, "not while she is there."

"Make no conditions, madam," whispered Wolsey. "Go."

"She shall be removed to-morrow," said Henry.

"In that case I am content to smother my feelings," said the queen.

"Come, then, Kate," said Henry, taking her hand. "Lord cardinal, you
will attend us."

"Right gladly, my liege," replied Wolsey. "If this mood will only endure,"
he muttered, "all will go well. But his jealousy must not be allowed to
cool. Would that Wyat were here!"

Doctor Sampson could scarcely credit his senses as he beheld the
august pair come forth together, and a word from Wolsey explaining
what had occurred, threw him into transports of delight. But the
surprise of the good canon was nothing to that exhibited as Henry and
Catherine entered the royal lodgings, and the king ordered his own
apartments to be instantly prepared for her majesty's reception.



XI. How Tristram Lyndwood and Mabel were liberated.


Intelligence of the queen's return was instantly conveyed to Anne
Boleyn, and filled her with indescribable alarm. All her visions of power
and splendour seemed to melt away at once. She sent for her father,
Lord Rochford, who hurried to her in a state of the utmost anxiety, and
closely questioned her whether the extraordinary change had not been
occasioned by some imprudence of her own. But she positively denied
the charge, alleging that she had parted with the king scarcely an hour
before on terms of the most perfect amity, and with the full conviction
that she had accomplished the cardinal's ruin.

"You should not have put forth your hand against him till you were sure
of striking the blow," said Rochford. "There is no telling what secret
influence he has over the king; and there may yet be a hard battle to
fight. But not a moment must be lost in counteracting his operations.
Luckily, Suffolk is here, and his enmity to the cardinal will make him a
sure friend to us. Pray Heaven you have not given the king fresh
occasion for jealousy! That is all I fear."

And quitting his daughter, he sought out Suffolk, who, alarmed at what
appeared like a restoration of Wolsey to favour, promised heartily to co-
operate with him in the struggle; and that no time might be lost, the
duke proceeded at once to the royal closet, where he found the king
pacing moodily to and fro.

"Your majesty seems disturbed," said the duke.

"Disturbed!--ay!" exclaimed the king. "I have enough to disturb me. I
will never love again. I will forswear the whole sex. Harkee, Suffolk,
you are my brother, my second self, and know all the secrets of my
heart. After the passionate devotion I have displayed for Anne Boleyn--
after all I have done for her--all I have risked for her--I have been
deceived."

"Impossible, my liege?" exclaimed Suffolk.

"Why, so I thought," cried Henry, "and I turned a deaf ear to all
insinuations thrown out against her, till proof was afforded which I
could no longer doubt."

"And what was the amount of the proof, my liege?" asked Suffolk.

"These letters," said Henry, handing them to him, "found on the person
of Sir Thomas Wyat."

"But these only prove, my liege, the existence of a former passion--
nothing more," remarked Suffolk, after he had scanned them.

"But she vows eternal constancy to him!" cried Henry; "says she shall
ever love him--says so at the time she professes devoted love for me!
How can I trust her after that? Suffolk, I feel she does not love me
exclusively; and my passion is so deep and devouring, that it demands
entire return. I must have her heart as well as her person; and I feel I
have only won her in my quality of king."

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