The Constable of the Tower

After a short absence he returned, and approaching the admiral, said, “Admittance is denied you, my lord. His majesty, who is greatly moved in your behalf, would fain have you brought in, but the lord protector is inflexible upon the point, and the whole of the council support him.”

“Alas! poor king! he will never have a will of his own,” exclaimed Seymour. “But I must see him, good Sir John. I must have a word with him.”

“It cannot be, my lord,” rejoined the constable. “My orders are peremptory. I must take you hence forthwith, and place you in confinement.”

“But the king must needs pass through this chamber. Let me stay here till he comes forth. Fortune frowns upon me at this moment, but she will smile again ere long, and then I shall not forget the service.”

“I cannot do it—I dare not do it, my lord. I have already incurred the protector’s displeasure by what I have done. Guards, bring on the prisoner.”

“I will not stir,” cried the admiral, fiercely. “I will see the king.”

“My lord, you cannot. Ha! his majesty comes forth.”

And, as he spoke, the doors of the inner chamber were thrown open by the henchmen, and immediately afterwards Edward came out, closely attended by the lord protector, and followed by the council.

The young monarch was evidently much distressed. His eyes were fixed upon the ground, and he did not notice the admiral and the guard.

Not so Somerset. Instantly perceiving his brother, he cast an ireful look at Sir John Gage.

“Stand aside, my lord,” said the constable to Seymour. “You have done me a great injury. You must not speak to the king.”

And he signed to the halberdiers to keep him back. But the admiral would not be restrained. Ere the king had advanced many paces, he broke from the guard, and prostrated himself before his royal nephew.

“Protect me, sire I—protect me from my enemies!” he cried.

Edward regarded him with deep commiseration, and would have raised him, if Somerset had not stepped quickly forward, and rudely pushed his brother aside.

“Forbear!” he cried, “thou monstrous traitor. Dare not to approach the king thou hast so deeply injured. Thy heinous treasons and misdemeanors have justly steeled his heart against thee. Turn a deaf ear to his prayers, sire, and pass on. He deserves not a moment’s consideration.”

“And what art thou, who dar’st to call me traitor?” cried Seymour, springing to his feet. “Treason in thy case has assumed gigantic proportions such as it never heretofore attained. Falsest of traitors hast thou been to thy late sovereign lord and master, who loved and trusted thee, and loaded thee with honors. False and traitorous wert thou to King Henry in regard to his will, which by thy machinations was fraudulently stamped while he lay helpless, speechless, dying. False and traitorous hast thou been to thy royal nephew, whose youth and inexperience thou hast abused, and whom thou hast sought to deprive of his power and authority. Thou chargest me with treasons and misdemeanors! Thine own are of such magnitude that others are dwarfed beside them. Thou hast usurped thy present post, and wilt usurp the crown itself, if thou be’st not prevented.”

“I disdain to answer these idle charges,” said Somerset; “but there is one so grave, that, since it is made publicly, must and shall be instantly refuted. You tax me with causing the late king’s will to be fraudulently stamped. Those who witnessed it—and they are several in number—can prove that the accusation is false. But on what pretence do you dare to make so scandalous, so atrocious a charge?”

“On the confession of your accomplice, Doctor Butts.”

“Where is the confession?” demanded Somerset. “Produce it.”

“Ay, produce it—if you can?” said Warwick, in a derisive tone.

“The document has been purloined from me—no doubt by my villanous servant, Ugo Harrington, whom I have punished for his perfidy,” rejoined Seymour. “But what I avouch is true.”

“Tut! tut!” exclaimed Warwick. “‘Tis evident your charge cannot be supported, and must be regarded as false and malicious. In your own case, on the contrary, we have abundant proofs of treasonable practices. Learn to your confusion that your accomplice, Sir William Sharington, is a prisoner here in the Tower, and has confessed his guilt, and your participation in his offences.”

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