“Your lordship’s injunctions shall be fulfilled,” replied Xit, pressing his hand upon his heart.
And he quitted the cell with Mauger.
For nearly an hour, the admiral was left to himself, and this interval he passed in prayer. He then attired himself with as much care as if preparing for a fête, and Tombs, who appeared while he was thus engaged, aided him in making his toilette. His habiliments consisted of a doublet and hose of black velvet, with a robe of the same material. His cap was likewise of black velvet, adorned with a red plume.
Shortly before the hour of ten, the awful rolling of muffled drums was heard outside, accompanied by the heavy tread of armed men. A body of yeomen of the guard, it was evident, was collected in front of the Bowyer Tower. As the bell tolled forth the fatal hour, the constable of the Tower, accompanied by the lieutenant, entered the cell. Seymour rose to meet them, and said, with a smile:
“Good-morrow to you, Sir John Gage, and to you too, good Sir John Markham. I am glad to see you both. I will not keep you waiting.”
But few more words passed between them. The little, however, that was said, strongly impressed both the constable and the lieutenant with Seymour’s composure and firmness, and they felt assured that he would die with great constancy.
“Have you any charge to give me, my lord, ere we set out?” inquired the constable, kindly.
“Only this, good Sir John,” replied Seymour, “and I am sure, from old friendship, you will see it done for me. You are aware,” he continued, in a voice of deep emotion, “that I have an infant daughter, the offspring of my marriage with Queen Catherine. ‘Tis a pretty child, but tender and delicate, and I much fear will not grow to maturity. My estates and possessions being forfeited to the Crown, I have not wherewithal to provide for my child.”
“Give yourself no concern on this score, my lord,” observed the constable. “Your sister-in-law, the Duchess of Somerset, I am sure will take care of your infant daughter.”
“I would not have her committed to the duchess’s care—nay, I forbid it,” rejoined the admiral, sternly. “Let her be given to the Marchioness of Dorset, who, for my sake, I am certain, will treat her kindly. Give my child my blessing, good Sir John, and see my dying wish complied with.”
“It shall be done, my lord,” replied the constable.
While they were thus conversing, the door of the cell opened, and an austere-looking personage, habited in a cassock of dark stuff, and wearing the peculiar cap adopted by the reformed clergy, came in. This was Doctor Hugh Latimer, who, as already mentioned, had several times before visited the admiral during his imprisonment. A long, grey, pointed beard imparted a venerable character to the divine’s somewhat sour physiognomy. A pair of large spectacles were suspended by a cord round his neck, and from his surcingle, in a black leathern case, hung the Bible.
“I am come to attend you to the scaffold, my lord,” he said, coldly saluting the admiral, “and I trust you are better prepared to appear before your Heavenly judge than when I last parted from you.”
“At least, I am penitent,” rejoined the admiral; “but little time is now left me for amendment.”
“Enough, my son, if you use it well,” said Latimer, in a more softened tone.
“My lord, I must pray you to set forth,” said the constable, throwing open the door and passing out.
“I am ready,” replied Seymour, following him with a firm footstep.
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Chapter VI
TOWER-HILL
Outside, as we have intimated, was waiting a large body of yeomen of the guard, armed with halberds. In the midst of them stood Mauger, leaning on his axe, his features being concealed by a hideous black and bearded mask. Two chargers, trapped in black, were likewise in waiting for the constable and the lieutenant.
Having mounted his steed, Sir John Gage gave the word to move on, and the mournful procession, which had been rapidly formed, set forward. At its head rode the constable, the sorrowful expression of his countenance showing how profoundly he was affected. His charger seemed to sympathize with him, and exhibited none of its customary spirit. Then followed the chaplain of the Tower, in his robes, with an open prayer-book in his hand, on which his eyes remained fixed as he moved along. Then came the trumpeters, with their clarions, which they did not sound, suspended from their necks. After them came the drummers, beating their muffled drums. Then came thirty yeomen of the guard, marching three abreast, and headed by the three gigantic warders. Then, after a short interval, came Mauger, masked, limping in his gait, and carrying the axe with its edge towards the prisoner who marched with firm step and undaunted deportment a short distance behind him. The admiral was closely followed by Latimer. Another detachment of yeomen of the guard preceded by the lieutenant of the Tower on horseback, brought up the rear.