“I have no fear of the prediction,” said Hertford, in a tone that somewhat belied his words; “and I beseech your Highness not to attach any importance to the vision. You have told me how the spirit came to you, but you have not explained how it departed.”
“I know not how it vanished,” replied Henry. “For a time I remained spell-bound, as if under the influence of nightmare; but at last, by a mighty effort, I broke the charm that seemed to bind me, and called out. I then found the spirit gone, and Butts standing in its place. Ferrys also was awake.”
“All is now explained,” said Hertford. “It was the nightmare that oppressed your Highness. You need have no fear.”
“Fear!—I have none!” ejaculated the king. “No living man ever made the Eighth Henry tremble, nor can any dead man do it. This spirit may be right as regards thee and thy brother, but I will prove it wrong in one particular.”
“By living beyond the hour appointed by it, I trust, my liege,” said Hertford. “In one of mortal mould, such a prediction would have been treasonable, but spirits are exempt from common penalties.”
“The jest is ill timed, my lord,” observed Henry, sternly. “I will balk the ghost if I can, by living till to-morrow; but at all events I will balk him by consigning Norfolk to the block. I will have the duke’s head before I die. This will I do, because the ghost told me, as if in mockery, that I should be disappointed. I will send his father to bear him company.”
“Whatever may have prompted this decision, I am glad, right glad, it has been come to,” said Hertford. “Were Norfolk permitted to live, he would undoubtedly cause the greatest embarrassment to Prince Edward during his minority. He might do more. Assisted by the Pope, the Emperor Charles V., and their partisans, he might even succeed in transferring the crown from the young prince’s head to that of the Princess Mary, and so undo all the work that you, sire, have so long and so assiduously labored to accomplish. He might check the Reformation, as well as alter the succession. You have delivered Prince Edward from one dangerous enemy, Surrey, but the other, and the more powerful foe, yet lives.”
“Edward shall never be molested by him,” rejoined the king. “He shall be beheaded to-morrow morning. Get the warrant for his execution at once, and deliver it to the Constable of the Tower.”
“Why not to-night?” demanded Hertford.
“At this hour!” exclaimed Henry, sternly. “A secret execution would be set down to fear or anger—and I feel neither. No!—to-morrow morning will be soon enough. I shall not change my mind. Go for the warrant. Wherefore do you linger?”
“If I might venture to urge one matter on your Majesty,” hesitated Hertford.
“Ha! what is it?” demanded the king.
“You have wisely and deliberately made all your arrangements for the future, but you have neglected the main point—the signing of your will. Here is the instrument, sire, which you have committed to my custody,” he added, producing a coffer, and taking from it several sheets of paper, tacked together by a braid of green and white ribbon. “It lacks only your signature, or the impress of your royal stamp, to be complete.”
“Leave it with me,” said Henry, taking the will. “Perchance I may make some alterations in it.”
“Alterations!” exclaimed the earl, startled out of his habitual caution.
“Ay, alterations! Wherefore not?” cried the king, sharply and suspiciously. “Marry, if it shall please me to erase your name from the list of my executors, I can do so, methinks?”
“Far be it from me to dispute your Highness’s power to make any changes you may deem proper,” replied Hertford, almost abjectly. “But I implore you not to delay the signing.”
“You had best trouble me no more,” rejoined Henry, sternly. “About your business straight. Send Sir John Gage to me. I desire to consult him.”
“Will none other than Sir John Gage serve your turn?” asked Hertford.
“Ha! what is this? Dar’st thou to trifle with me? No one but Gage will serve my turn. There! thou art answered. Get thee gone!”
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