CHAPTER XIII

At St. Paul's Cross

'Oh, Margery! Margery! I am in sore trouble!'

It was the next morning, and Queen Jane turning away from all her grand Court ladies, seized the first opportunity of being alone with me to sob out her griefs in my arms, which held her tightly and with great affection.

I gathered, with a little difficulty, for she would not say one word against her husband, Lord Guildford Dudley, that he, at whose bidding she was making so great a sacrifice, not satisfied with that, was becoming even more exacting. At first all his ambition seemed to be centred in the desire that his wife should be Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, and that in spite of her firm conviction that she would be usurping the throne which rightly belonged to Princess Mary. But now, not content with seeing her made queen, he desired to be crowned also, that he might be king with equal rights to hers. This, however, my dear mistress could not agree to, for if she had a slender claim to the crown, being only the granddaughter of Henry VII's youngest daughter, Mary, he had even less, being no relation at all. It seemed that his father, the Duke of Northumberland, had persuaded the Council, who being in the Tower were practically in his power, to say that they would make Guildford Dudley king; but Lady Jane reminded the latter that she only had the power to confer the title upon him, adding that it would be impossible for her to do it, as it would not be right; moreover, the people, who were unwilling to see her queen, would be actually incensed if a son of the Duke of Northumberland--who was by no means popular--likewise mounted the throne.

Lord Guildford Dudley, however, would not perceive the justice of these asseverations. He took it ill that Jane, whom he had assisted to the throne, should dislike the idea of sharing it with him, and, after quarrelling with her bitterly, departed alone for Sion House, leaving her to get on as well as she could without him. Then his mother was very angry with her, upbraiding and reproaching her, as did also her own mother, the Duchess of Suffolk.

Poor Queen of England! Every step of the way was a bitter one for her. Was ever a young creature, standing where childhood and womanhood meet, so sorely tried? The evening before, at six o'clock, she had been proclaimed queen in London, the announcement meeting with sullen silence on the part of the people, one of whom, a vintner's lad, even daring to vindicate the rights of the Princess Mary--for which he was afterwards severely punished.

'It was mainly at the desire of my husband that I consented to be queen,' sobbed my mistress, 'yet he has left me in anger, and his father and mother are mightily incensed with me. It is all so miserable, and my own conscience afflicts me, for all that they have said to me has not quietened its doubts about the equity of my position. I cannot help suspecting--especially after what has just happened--that my father-in-law's ambition has been the pivot on which we have all turned. And in the fierce light which all that has been occurring has thrown over everything concerning me, I cannot fail to see that the Duke of Northumberland in causing his son Guildford to marry me was but preparing for this. I believe my dear lord loves me,' she added wistfully, 'but perhaps his father's ambition hurried on our marriage.'

I thought that was likely enough, having heard much during the last day or two about Northumberland's ambition, but hastened to assure my mistress in all sincerity that her charms of person, disposition and mind were such that no young man could possibly be intimate with her without being susceptible to the tender passion, whereupon she smiled through her tears, exclaiming--

'You little flatterer! But if that be so you must by all means keep your own chosen lover away from my presence.'

I blushed very much at that, which caused Queen Jane to insist upon my telling her all about my own love story and the name of the man who had won my heart; and, when she heard that it was the same brave knight who escorted me to Sion House when I came to live with her, she was very pleased, and said that it was a pretty romance in real life and she trusted that God would bless us and give us a very happy future together in His own good time.

We were interrupted by the entrance of the Duchess of Suffolk, who bade her daughter sternly, though in stilted Court language, to prepare to transact business with her father and the Duke of Northumberland and the Council. Indeed, there were many matters for the young queen to deal with and papers of importance for her to sign, and she addressed herself bravely to the task of taking up the burden of royalty at the call of duty. For, having consented to be made queen, she knew that she must fulfil the obligations attached to the high office, to the best of her ability.

'I am happier when I am busily employed,' she said to me later in the day. 'It is when I have time to think, Margery, that my doubts and fears return. Dear one,' she continued, 'I am told that on Sunday next Dr. Ridley, the Bishop of London, is going to preach at St. Paul's Cross, and I want you to do me this favour. You must go and hear him, that you may tell me everything he says. I would fain know, Margery,' she went on very wistfully, 'for it may throw light on what I am at present unable to see.'

I knew she meant the entire justice of her accession to the throne, and readily promised that, if I could leave the Tower and go to hear the bishop, I would tell her every word he said. I doubted not that one of my friends, Sir William Wood or Sir Hubert Blair, would escort me through the crowds which would congregate to hear the eloquent divine.

In my own mind I was full of uneasiness now about the position of my dear lady, for a messenger had arrived at the Tower from Princess Mary, the late king's elder sister, to say that she commanded the Council to see that she was duly proclaimed, and warning them to desist from their treasonable purposes. The Council, with small courtesy, refused to do this, and scarcely had the messenger gone when news came pouring in that Princess Mary had taken up her position at Framlingham Castle in Suffolk, where the nobility, gentry and people were flocking to her standard. It was therefore necessary that forces should be sent out to overcome and disperse Mary's army, and the Council and the Duke of Northumberland were much exercised as to who should lead them. It was rumoured amongst us that the Duke of Northumberland wanted the Duke of Suffolk to go, whilst the Council wished Northumberland himself to head the expedition. If he went it was a question whether the Council, left to themselves, would remain true to Queen Jane, for they had been coerced and over-persuaded by him, though secretly, like most of the people, in favour of Mary. There were intrigues on all sides, and several of the Council so worked upon my mistress's apprehensions that she begged that her father might stay with her. It was therefore settled that Northumberland should lead an army of 2,000 horsemen and 6,000 foot soldiers against Mary's forces.

Accordingly, on the thirteenth, after exhorting the Council to remain true to Queen Jane, he left the Tower for Durham House, where he stayed a night, and then, on the fourteenth, he and his men marched out of the city. We were told by Sir William Wood, who had gone with many others to see them depart, that the Duke of Northumberland was heard observing to some one that though numbers watched them go, there was not one to say, 'God speed you!'

Our hearts were full of apprehension upon hearing this; and also Sir William's tidings that the silence of the multitude watching the troops go was something marvellous and most terrifying in its significance.

And yet again my dear lady said to me--

'Margery, you must go to hear what Dr. Ridley has to say about my claims, for I should fear nothing if only I were absolutely certain that they are just and equitable.'

Upon the Sunday, therefore--July 16 it was--I left the Tower with Lady Caroline and Sir William Wood and went to St. Paul's Cross, where a very great congregation was assembled to hear the bishop's preaching.

Sir William found us a place, with some difficulty, where we could stand without being pushed and hustled by the crowd, but we could hear nothing at first except the talking and moving about of the multitude, the cries of those who were hurt or pushed, and the endeavours of those in authority to induce order and quiet.

When, at length, I was able to hear what the venerable bishop was saying, I found that his eloquence was being exerted on a theme so much to my mind that I could have listened all day. He was speaking of the virtues and abilities of my dear mistress, and praising her exceedingly for her goodness and her learning, dwelling much upon the beneficent effect her Protestant rule would be certain to have upon the people of England, and maintaining her right and her title to the throne by the best arguments he could devise--I noticed among these none that were new, however, which I could carry home to Queen Jane. The fact was, he said nothing but what had been already employed, only being an orator, he said it more emphatically and more beautifully, and being a bishop, his words had to my thinking more weight, and he spoke them as one having great spiritual authority.

I was listening eagerly, with my eyes fixed on the preacher and ears intent only upon his words, when a man wrapped in a long foreign-looking cloak pressed so closely against me that I was pushed a little way from my companions. Glancing at the man with indignation, I perceived that his face was concealed partly by the collar of his coat and partly by a large felt hat pulled low over his brow. It was impossible, therefore, to distinguish his features, and yet I knew I had seen him before.

'Allow me,' I said, 'to step nearer to my friends.'

The fellow pretended not to hear. He stuck his hands in his pockets and straightened his broad back between me and my companions. I thought he was a boor, but no worse, and, giving up the attempt to move him, became speedily absorbed again in the preaching, if preaching it could be called, which was now a speech inveighing against the claims of the late King Henry's daughters, and especially of the Princess Mary, and representing, moreover, that if the latter succeeded to the throne it would mean certain destruction to the reformed religion, which, on the other hand, the amiable and pious Queen Jane would maintain in its entirety. He spoke, too, of the likelihood of Mary's contracting a marriage with a prince of the house of Spain, where the Inquisition, with all its ghastly horrors, was maintained. Then he went on to tell of an interview he had had with Mary before the late king's death. He had ridden over to visit her at Hundson, and she invited him to stay to dinner.

After the meal was over he told her that on the Sunday he intended coming to preach before her, upon which she replied that the Church would be open to him, but he must not expect to see her and her household there. He answered by expressing the hope that she would not refuse God's Word, to which she replied that she did not know what they called God's Word now, as it certainly was not the same as in her father's time.

'God's Word, said I,' cried the preacher, 'was the same at all times, though better understood and practised in some ages than others.'

On his retiring, the princess thanked him for coming to see her, but not at all for his proposal to preach before her.

The bishop paused, after relating the anecdote, as if sure that on hearing of Mary's bigotry his audience would wish to repudiate the idea of their wanting her to be their queen.

But, once again, silence and unresponsiveness chilled the hearts of those who loved Queen Jane.

'You see they are convinced that, in spite of everything, Mary should be queen,' said a woman standing near me.

'The boy who scarcely said more than that the other day was cruelly maltreated for it,' muttered the man in the long cloak,' and I shall inform of you, madam, unless you,' he ended by whispering something into the woman's ear.

Immediately, with a look of terror, she put her arm in mine and began to draw me away from my friends, the man taking hold of my other arm, and almost pushing me along.

I called to Sir William Wood, who had his back towards me and did not hear. I entreated Lady Caroline for help, but she was whispering with some ladies, and I could not attract her attention. Then I appealed to the bystanders, but the man, looking threateningly at them, declared that he would knock down the first who interfered. As he said the words I recognized his voice. He was Sir Claudius Crossley.

And I was in his power, for now we were surrounded by men whom I also recognized, as they were some of those who had drowned the poor old women they called witches.

'No harm will be done to you if you come with us quietly,' said Sir Claudius in my ear.

But I did not believe him, and in desperation struggled to free myself, and cried aloud for help.

The next moment Sir Hubert Blair rode up, and, dashing towards me into the crowd, scattered it on all sides, then, springing from his horse, he seized my adversary in his powerful arms and, hurling him to the ground, administered not a few blows with the butt-end of his riding-whip.

This done, he turned to me, but I had already fled towards my friends and, seeing I was safe, he only smiled and waved his hand, and rode off in another direction, having evidently business of importance in hand.

I saw no more of Sir Claudius Crossley that day, but the incident had shown that he was still my active enemy, bent upon fulfilling his vow, which Betsy had reported to me, that he would win me for his own and vanquish my proud and haughty spirit.