Many persons were collected on the green, on the walls, and at different other points, curious to see how the admiral would demean himself on this trying occasion. All were astonished at his fortitude. His countenance was wan from anxiety and long confinement, but his figure was erect as ever, his carriage stately and dignified, and his looks haughty and unbending. Nothing that was passing within could be read from his features. But what memories of other and brighter days were wakened as he passed along the wide open space in front of the White Tower, and gazed at the palace beyond it! To check the painful current of his thoughts, he looked in the opposite direction.
At that moment he was close to the Beauchamp Tower, and, casting his eyes upon the frowning structure, he beheld the Duke of Norfolk gazing at him through a strongly-grated window. Their glances met, and how much did that single look convey! There was no exultation over a fallen foe in the duke’s glance—no smile of gratified vengeance lighted up his venerable features—but he shook his head mournfully. Seymour faltered for a moment, but instantly recovering himself, strode on with as much firmness as before. Norfolk’s look and mournful shake of the head, however, continued to haunt him. “I would I had not seen him,” he thought.
The procession now passed beneath the gloomy arch of the Bloody Tower, and in the outer ward more spectators were congregated, grouped on either side of the way. Many of these audibly expressed their commiseration for the admiral, but were rebuked both by word and gesture by Latimer, who shook his staff at them. But the ire of the austere divine was yet more vehemently roused by an incident which shortly afterwards occurred. The first detachment of the guard had passed through the gateway of the By-ward Tower, and Seymour was just approaching it, when Xit, who was stationed among the bystanders, sprang forward, and ere he could be prevented, threw himself at his feet. In another moment, the poor dwarf was removed by one of the guard, who pushed him aside with the pole of his halberd, but he sobbed out a piteous farewell.
The most trying part of the ceremony had now to be undergone, and Seymour braced his nerves firmly for it. Already the horrible roar of the vast multitude collected near the outer gate of the fortress and on Tower-hill could be distinctly heard. There was something awful in this sound, and for a moment Seymour felt appalled by it, but the feeling instantly passed away, and by the time he was exposed to the gaze of those thousand inquisitive spectators, whose eyes were eagerly fixed upon him, devouring his every look and gesture, and commenting upon them as a Roman concourse might upon a gladiator, he was as full of intrepidity as before. Nor did his extraordinary power of fascination fail him at this supreme moment. As he marched slowly on, looking to the right and left in search of friendly faces, loud murmurs arose among the crowd, cries began to be raised, many persons pressed forward, and it required the utmost efforts of the arquebusiers, who were arranged in double lines all the way to the scaffold, to keep back the throng.
“Be patient, my good friends,” cried Seymour, waving them back. “You will harm yourselves, and not serve me.”
But this, instead of allaying the excitement of the crowd, increased it, and the tumult threatening to become dangerous, Sir John Gage, fearing a rescue might be attempted, ordered the guard to close round the prisoner, and accelerate their pace. This was done, and not a moment too soon, for the lines of halberdiers were broken in two or three places by the rabble, who, disappointed in their expectations of reaching the admiral, attacked the guard, wrested their halberds from them, and a sharp conflict ensued, in the course of which some persons were killed, and many others grievously wounded. Loud and fierce execrations were uttered against the lord protector, and he was denounced as the murderer of his brother.
In anticipation of some such disturbances as actually took place, a company of German lansquenets had been placed around the scaffold, and these were strengthened by the mounted city train-bands, so that the place of execution was completely invested. An enormous multitude was collected. The whole area of Tower-hill was thronged, and in the vicinity of the scaffold, which stood on the highest ground on the northwest of the fortress, scarce an inch of ground was unoccupied.