CHAPTER XV

At Sion House Again

Lady Jane returned to Sion House the next day, and her manner of doing so was as humble and lowly as her leaving for the Tower had been grand and ostentatious. She who had been a queen nine days--which, by the way, is said to have given rise to the saying, 'A nine days' wonder'--laid down her royalty, as we have seen, without a sigh, and returned to Isleworth in a hired litter, attended only by myself and Mistress Ellen, and escorted by a few of the Duke of Suffolk's followers and Sir William Wood, whom nothing would hinder from paying his last token of respect and ready service to her vanished queendom. The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk followed to Sheen House, Richmond, later on, the former well nigh distraught with grief and vexation, and the latter in a state of peevishness and anger, which boded ill for her daughter when once she was within reach of her tongue.

But Lady Jane and I rejoiced that, at length, the right was prevailing and the lawful queen was coming to her own, though I think if we had known of the misery and bloodshed which she would bring upon the Protestants in this country, our joy would have been turned into sorrow.

Isleworth, where Sion House is situated, is about twelve miles from London City, in a sweet country of green trees and verdant meadows. It is two miles from Richmond, where the magnificent palace--a favourite seat of royalty[1]--faces the river and imparts grandeur to the scene.

[1] This was in 1553. The palace has been pulled down now.--ED.

The country looked fresh and beautiful to us after the stone walls and roofs and chimneys of the city, and the air was sweet and pleasant after the closer atmosphere of the metropolis; though certainly in the Tower we got breezes from the river as well as the ill odours of the town. We thought that now we could return to the quiet, studious life we led before, and my lady spoke of teaching me Greek and Latin that I might share her studies--but, alas, such things were not to be.

Lord Guildford Dudley, though bitterly disappointed at the turn of events, and anxious for the safety of his father, of whom we had no certain tidings, became reconciled to Lady Jane, and they spent more time together than before, which necessarily deprived me of the society of my dear mistress and threw much idle time upon my hands.

After the stirring events through which we had been passing, and whilst they were still happening in the great city we had turned our backs upon, I could not settle down to sewing and embroidering, as Mistress Ellen would fain have made me, but took to wandering about the grounds of Sion House and especially down by the river, with vague yearnings which I scarcely put into clear thoughts; but seeing that they had their root in witnessing the happiness my mistress felt in being once more the cherished companion of her lord, and that my gaze was ever fixed upon the river up which Sir Hubert Blair once came to me in his boat, it was evident that he was the loved object of my every thought and wish. Where was he in the great and exciting events that were taking place? I had never seen him since the day of the preaching at St. Paul's Cross, when he rescued me from Sir Claudius Crossley's hands. It seemed strange to me afterwards that he had not joined his friend, Sir William Wood, in escorting Lady Jane back to Sion House, but I had not an opportunity of inquiring of Sir William about him. And now he stayed away. What did it mean? I spent hours in vague conjectures and in wondering what course he was pursuing in the present state of affairs. Of one thing I was certain. He would not, like the Council, have gone over to Mary's side, now that the Duke of Northumberland was away and people were acknowledging her on all sides. He was too true a man to forsake the weaker cause, and too valiant to give in because others were succumbing, and yet if he did the opposite and kept his standard raised for Queen Jane, what danger he would be in! Imprisonment and even death might befall my prince of men.

I was thinking of this one evening, with tear-dimmed eyes gazing on the river, brilliant just then with the reflected light of a most gorgeous sunset, when, hearing the gentle splashing of oars, I turned quickly and perceived Sir Hubert in a boat being rapidly rowed towards me by two strong boatmen. Sir Hubert was sitting in the stern of the boat, with keen eyes scanning the riverside, and upon perceiving me he took off his hat and waved it, whilst his face, so grave a moment before, lighted up with smiles.

He said something to the boatmen, and immediately after, the boat having been run to our little landing-stage, he jumped out, and they pulled away, leaving him coming up the steps and walking towards me.

I was so glad to see him, he looked so strong and brave that all my fears and anxieties regarding his safety disappeared, and with joy I hurried forward to place both my hands in his.

'Welcome! welcome!' I said, and could say no more of all the words of love and greeting crying out in my mind for utterance.

He, too, seemed to find a difficulty in speech, but he led me to a seat near the water, and we sat down, hand in hand, in silence, which was more eloquent than any words.

After a little while, he told me the news of what had been occurring in the City and the open field, where the Duke of Northumberland led the forces, and as he spoke of treachery and cowardice, I scarcely knew my lover in the pale, indignant man.

'You must know, Margery,' he said to me, 'that the Council, after proclaiming Mary Queen, sent the herald, Richard Rose, to the Duke of Northumberland with a message commanding him to disband his army and acknowledge Queen Mary, under penalty of being declared a traitor. But, even before receiving these orders, he had himself submitted in a cowardly, undignified manner. He had withdrawn from Bury St. Edmunds to Cambridge, where, on the Sunday, he caused the Vice-Chancellor of the University to preach a sermon against the rights and the religion of Mary, and the following day, when the news arrived from London of the revolution that had taken place there, he went to the Market place and declared aloud that Mary whom they had been denouncing, was the rightful queen. Moreover, he flung up his cap, as if in joy, whilst tears of mortification and regret rolled down his face. "Queen Mary is a merciful woman," he said to the Vice-chancellor, "and doubtless all will receive the benefit of her generous pardon." The Vice-chancellor, however, gave him no hope, for he said if the queen were ever so inclined to pardon, those who ruled her would destroy him, whoever else was pardoned. Immediately afterwards he was arrested and sent off to the Tower.'

'What a fall for the proud Northumberland!' exclaimed I.

'Proud no longer!' said Sir Hubert. 'His behaviour, when arrested, was abject in the extreme. He fell on his knees before the Earl of Arundel, who arrested him, and begged for his life.'

'Where was his dignity?' cried I, and then, the next instant I asked, 'will they kill him?'

'Yes. He will be executed for high treason.'

'How dreadful!' said I, adding 'How grieved my dear lady will be, although he has been so cruel to her!'

'And many others, braver than he, were sent to the Tower,' continued my lover, 'and amongst them even Bishop Ridley.'

'Bishop Ridley!'

'Yes. For preaching that sermon at St. Paul's Cross. They say it is like to cost him his life.'

'His life! Will Mary be so wicked as to kill a clergyman because of what he said in his sermon?' asked I.

'Yes,' answered Sir Hubert. 'She is capable of doing far more than that. Did I not tell you what a Papist's rule in England would mean, Margery? Rivers of blood will flow. And they will be Protestants on whom Mary will wreak her vengeance. There is no animosity in the world so bitter, as what is called religious animosity. Remember what they did to our Lord. Think you the Jews of old would have crucified so cruelly an innocent man if it had not been a matter of religion that was at issue?'

'True! true!' I said, wondering at the astuteness of my dear one. 'But, alas!' I sobbed, the next moment. 'If Mary will be so bitter against her Protestant enemies, what, oh! what will be the fate of my dear Lady Jane?'

Sir Hubert looked very grave.

'I can see no hope for her,' he said, 'if Mary is allowed to reign.'

'Why do you say, if Mary is allowed to reign,' I exclaimed, 'when she is reigning already?'

'Not yet!' cried Sir Hubert, in confident tones. 'Not yet! There are some who will never lay down their swords whilst they can wield them on behalf of Lady Jane.'

'A few doubtless,' exclaimed I. 'But, oh, what can a few do against so many, many others?'

'It is on the rightfulness of our cause that we rely,' said my dear knight. 'There is a saying, Margery, that if you give a man rope enough he will hang himself, and of course it holds good with a woman also. Mary has already pounced on a bishop and imprisoned him--or her followers have--and soon she will begin to burn Protestants alive. Then, by that blaze, the nation will awake to see what they are doing and the whole of Protestant England will rise as one man, and deposing Mary, put down papistry with an iron hand.'

'And meanwhile,' I said, 'my dear Lady Jane? And Master Montgomery, too,' my thoughts reverting to the good curate, who had taught me so many lessons of truth and righteousness at home, 'and you, my dear one, what will become of you?'

'If Mary reigns, the life of Lady Jane hangs on single thread,' Sir Hubert answered, oracularly. 'If papistry is upheld by the ruling power, your friend, Master Montgomery's life is not secure for a single day, or an hour. And, as for me, I am well aware that by refusing to submit myself to Mary, I am liable at any moment to be apprehended for high treason!'

I gave a great cry, for I knew that the penalty for high treason is death, and it took my beloved some time to quieten me. When, at last, I was calmer he said, 'if it were not for you, I should not care about myself. But, in any case, I am sure you would not wish to hold me back from doing my utmost to re-establish Lady Jane as Queen of Great Britain, France and Ireland.'

'But the thing is beyond you!' I cried. 'You and a few others can never, never compass it--you will only spend your life, your precious life in the vain effort.'

And I looked around, with a frantic desire to see some one who might come to my help and assist me to persuade this dear, hot-headed, valiant knight not to cast himself into the gulf yawning between my dear Lady Jane and her crown.

The glory of the sunset was over now, the monarch of the skies having sunk out of sight, and the radiance of his setting was momentarily waning. A slight river mist was rising and stealing over the land, like a hazy veil obscuring, though not concealing its rich and brilliant green. Rooks cawed in the trees hard by, as if they were having some earnest debate upon affairs of importance in bird-land, and the distant baying of the watch-dogs up at the house reminded us that, though apparently alone, we were not far from a big residence. No one, however, appeared to be in sight on land, and looking across the darkening water I only perceived a barge, which seemed to be stationary on our side of the river, a little higher up. A few men were upon it, but they were too far apart and too insignificant in appearance to avail me anything, and I looked up to Sir Hubert, whose eyes were resting upon me, with a yearning look of love.

'For my sake,' I said, tremulously.

But he shook off the temptation and began--

'Whilst I have power to wield a sword----'

He was interrupted. An iron hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice of thunder demanded--

'Are you for Queen Mary? Speak. Answer, yea or nay?'

It was Sir Claudius Crossley's ugly face that leered upon us as we looked round, and it was his hand that gripped my beloved one's shoulder, whilst behind him stood a little band of wild, ruffianly men.

Silently along the riverpath they had come from the barge, creeping up behind us, whilst we were absorbed in the momentous questions occupying our attention; and now, shielding himself behind the name of Mary, Sir Claudius was ready for any deed of violence.

'I do not answer ruffians!' cried Sir Hubert, grasping his sword.

The next moment there was a scuffle; the men, some half dozen in number, threw themselves upon Sir Hubert and caught hold of me, and whether from fear, or from some blow that was dealt by a coward, not above fighting women, I know not, but I immediately lost consciousness and knew no more.