The Constable of the Tower by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“He spoke as if he had,” remarked Butts.

“All think so, and I would not have them undeceived,” replied Hertford. “The will has been well considered and debated, as you know, and is fully prepared, but he ever puts off the signing of it. All my persuasions have failed with him.”

“Obstinate as he is, he shall sign it,” replied the physician. “But hush!” he added, with a gesture of silence; “he stirs! Retire, my lord. And send Ferrys, the king’s chirurgeon, to me with all despatch.”

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Edward VI

After the painting by Holbein

Chapter VII

OF THE AWFUL SUMMONS RECEIVED BY THE KING

Under the superintendence of Doctor Butts and of the chirurgeon Ferrys, and by the help of an engine employed for the purpose, Henry, who had only partially regained his consciousness, was lifted from his chair, and placed in a couch in the royal sleeping-chamber. The couch wherein he was thus deposited was of unusual size, and made of oak, richly carved, and black and lustrous as ebony. The lofty canopy was crowned with blood-red plumes, and supported by twisted pillars. The curtains were of cloth of gold of the thickest texture, embroidered with the Holy Cross, the cross of Saint George, the Rose, the Portcullis, and the Lion rampant, mingled with Fleurs-de-lys. The head of the bed was sculptured in bold relief with the arms of England. Notwithstanding the magnificence of its curtains, the general appearance of this huge bed was sombre in the extreme, and it looked a fitting receptacle for an expiring monarch. The walls of the chamber were hung with fine tapestry from the woofs of Tournay, representing the principal actions of Solomon the Wise, and in the upper border scrolls were painted in black letter sundry texts of Scripture, applicable to the destination of the room.

A dreadful night ensued, long remembered by those who watched by Henry’s troubled couch, or were near enough to hear his appalling groans and roars of agony. No one who then listened to his terrific outcries, or witnessed his desperate struggles for breath, but felt that the despot’s numerous victims were amply avenged. For every life taken by him it seemed he must endure a pang: and yet, though ever dying, he could not die. Throughout the long, long night, in that vast, dimly-lighted chamber, rendered gloomier by the dusky furniture and the grim arras on the walls, might be seen dark figures, as if detached from the tapestry, gliding with ghostly footsteps towards the king’s couch, questioning the physician and chirurgeon in dumb show, and then swiftly but silently retreating if a groan broke from the royal sufferer. One tall personage, scarcely to be distinguished from the hangings near which he stood, remained stationary at the back of the room throughout the whole night, as if anxiously awaiting the issue of this fearful conflict with death. Ever and anon, Doctor Butts moved noiselessly towards this sombre and mysterious-looking personage, and spoke with him under his breath. Their muttered converse had evident reference to the king, and to something required of him by the untiring watcher, whose gestures proclaimed the utmost anxiety; but, however important the matter might be, Butts clearly deemed it impracticable, for he shook his head, and returned alone to the sick monarch’s couch. Worn out by anguish, Henry dropped asleep towards morning, and this favorable circumstance being communicated to the watcher, he disappeared, having previously received an assurance from Doctor Butts that he should be instantly sent for if any change for the worse occurred. Some of the drowsy pages and henchmen likewise sought repose; but the medical attendants did not for a moment quit the king’s bedside.

Henry slept for several hours, and awoke towards noon much refreshed, and expressed a desire to receive the sacrament. After ordering the Bishop of Oxford to be summoned, the king commanded his attendants to lift him out of bed, and set him again in his chair. Doctor Butts endeavored to dissuade him from this step, representing its extreme danger, and counselling the easiest posture possible during the performance of the holy office; but Henry authoritatively declared that he would kneel down, whatever risk might be incurred from the action, or whatever pain it might give him; adding, “that if he were not only to cast himself upon the ground, but under it, he could not tender to the sacrament the honor that was its due.” No more was to be said. His injunctions were obeyed. Taken up and placed within his chair, he kept his seat until the consecration, when, with much difficulty, he contrived to kneel down before the bishop, and partook of the bread and wine. Though his sufferings must have been intense, he bore them with the constancy of a martyr, and the good prelate, who was much affected, could not sufficiently admire his fortitude. As soon as the sacred rite was over, the king was conveyed back to his couch, and did not appear much worse for the great effort he had made. By his own injunctions, which could not be disobeyed, he was then left wholly undisturbed until late in the day.