“I remember the circumstance well enough,” rejoined the constable. “What of it?”
“At that time Henry was insensible,” pursued Seymour, “and the document was stamped without his orders—nay, contrary to his previously expressed wishes.”
“How know you this, my lord?”
“From one who had a share in the transaction, but who has since gone to his account—Doctor Butts. He wrote down his confession, and delivered it to me. That the truth of the statement could not be denied by Somerset will be apparent when I tell you that it enabled me to make terms with him when he threatened to send me here as a prisoner. If Henry’s will falls to the ground, all that has been based upon it falls likewise. All the arrangements made by the protector burst like a bubble. His acts are illegal, and the council is at an end. In fact, there are no council and no protector.”
“Then let the matter be,” cried the constable. “Things have gone too far to be set right now.”
“You are mistaken, good Sir John. It is my intention to set them right, and I want your assistance in the task.”
“Let me hear what you propose to do,” said the constable.
“I mean to strike a blow which shall annihilate Somerset’s usurped authority. But while this is done, regard must be had to the king’s safety. We must have him in the Tower, Sir John, under your charge.”
“And when you have got him here, what step will next be taken?”
“A proclamation will be issued in his majesty’s name, disclosing Somerset’s false practices in regard to the will, and charging him and his abettors with high treason—annulling all their acts, depriving them of their posts, and appointing others in their stead.”
“Chief amongst whom will doubtless be your Highness?”
“Certes, Sir John. Who else could be lord protector? But you shall not be forgotten. You shall be grand master or lord great chamberlain, with a peerage.”
“As the price of my desertion of your brother and his friends? Umph!” exclaimed the constable.
“To adhere to them would be treason to the king,” said Seymour.
“Nay, I can scarce view it in that light,” rejoined the constable. “But you do not think that such a change as you propose will be accomplished without a struggle—that the Duke of Somerset will surrender his post without an effort to maintain it? Most like the army will stand by him, and he has a large band of foreign mercenaries on whom he can certainly count.”
“There you are wrong, Sir John. The foreign mercenaries can be bought. As to the army, we must take our chance. I have plenty of partisans who will rise when I give them the signal.”
“Why, this is downright rebellion!” cried the constable. “We shall have a civil war.”
“Rebellion against whom—against an arch-traitor, who has too long usurped the chief place in the state. ‘Tis in the king’s behalf that we shall fight, and not against him. We shall free him from those who have assumed a control over him for which they have no title. We shall unmask treason, and punish it.”
“Still, I am not satisfied,” rejoined the constable. “I like not the plan you propose.”
“But if I bring the king hither—will you deliver the fortress to him? Will you close the gates—and put the place in a state of defence?”
“Were his majesty himself to command me to do this, I must needs obey. But I do not think he will.”
“You do not know the king as well as I know him, Sir John. I will bring him here ere many days are over our heads. Be prepared to act as he shall direct.”
“I make no promises,” rejoined the constable; “and if my advice were likely to be listened to, I would recommend your lordship to proceed no further with your design.”
“You will breathe no word of what has passed between us, Sir John?” said Seymour.
“Fear no betrayal on my part,” rejoined Gage. “I will say nothing till I have seen the king.”
Seeing that nothing more was to be done with the constable, Seymour soon afterwards took his departure, and, reentering his barge, was rowed back to Whitehall.