The Constable of the Tower

“It is Mauger, sire,” replied the admiral. And he added to himself, “I will find him work to do anon.”

Passing through the two outer gates, and crossing the bridge across the moat, the young monarch and his uncle were met at the By-ward Tower by Sir John Gage and the lieutenant of the tower.

After reverently saluting the king, the constable looked earnestly at Seymour, and seemed very desirous of saying a word to him in private, but the admiral gave him no opportunity of doing so, but rode after the king into the lower ward. Here, however, Sir John overtook him, and coming close up to him, said, in a low tone:

“Be advised by me, and go back. There is yet time—I will help you to retreat.”

“I have no intention of retreating, Sir John,” replied Seymour. “You can guess why I have brought his majesty here.”

“You have brought him to your own destruction,” muttered the constable. “Fly instantly, if you would save yourself.”

“You think to frighten me,” rejoined Seymour; “but I am not to be turned from my purpose.”

“The gates are closed—it is too late,” said Gage. And he moved on towards the king.

Edward rode on towards the palace, where he dismounted, and, attended by the admiral and the constable, entered the building.

The palace had a gloomy air, being almost unoccupied at the time, but a large fire was lighted in the great tapestried chamber, to which they proceeded, and gave it a more cheerful look. Having warmed himself for a moment at the fire, Edward turned to his uncle, who was standing at a little distance from him, and observed, “You have something to say to us, gentle uncle. Was it necessary we should come to the Tower to hear it?”

“Your Majesty will judge,” rejoined the admiral. “The real motive of my bringing you here shall now be disclosed. I would have you in a place of safety, where you can issue your decrees without coercion. At Whitehall you are under the control of the lord protector and his officers. Here you can do as you please. Once before, I made an effort to free you from your uncle’s thraldom. I was baffled then, but I shall not be baffled now, if your Majesty will but stand firm—and never had you more need of firmness than at the present juncture.”

“I will summon up all my resolution when I know for what emergency it is required,” said Edward, regarding him fixedly.

“Listen to me, sire, and rest satisfied that the statements I am about to make to you can be fully substantiated. Since your august father’s death, all acts and appointments have been made by his executors. By them a president has been appointed, invested with almost sovereign powers, under the title of lord protector; by them and by the protector, councils have been held, and affairs of state administered. But all their authority was derived from the royal testament.”

“True. The king my father ordained that the sixteen persons whom he named as executors should form the privy council, and execute all the authority of the crown during my minority.”

“Your royal father so intended, sire, but—”

“But what?” demanded Edward. “Have not his intentions been fully carried out?”

“Listen to me, sire. The king your father had his will carefully prepared and written out, but being of a somewhat changeful temper, he delayed the signing of it—till too late.”

“Too late!” exclaimed Edward, in amazement. “Was not the will signed?”

“It was stamped while his majesty was incapable of speech or movement—in fact, expiring. The will is consequently void, and, being void, all acts founded upon it are likewise void. There are no executors, no privy council, no lord protector. Failing the will, the Crown and all authority attached to it devolves upon the king’s undoubted heir, your Majesty. You are uncontrolled by guardians or executors.”

“But is my uncle the lord protector aware of this fatal defect in the testament?” demanded Edward.

“Aware of it!” cried Seymour. “‘T was by his contrivance that the will was stamped. All his hopes of power and aggrandizement were based upon this document, and finding himself bereft of them by the king’s neglect, he took this desperate means of remedying the error. He was aided in the fraudulent proceeding by Doctor Butts, whose conscience, borne down by the weight of his heinous crime, could only be relieved before his death by a written confession, which confession is in my custody, and shall be laid before your Majesty.”

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