The significant look given by the usher to Sir John Gage did not escape Elizabeth.
“They are deliberating about the lord admiral’s execution. Is it not so?—speak!”
“Your Highness has guessed right,” replied the usher, reluctantly.
“Then I must see the king my brother without delay,” cried the princess.
“I guess your object, gracious lady, and would willingly further it,” said the usher, in a tone of deep sympathy; “but I dare not disobey my orders.”
“Is his majesty alone?” inquired the constable.
“He is, Sir John,” answered the usher. “The Bishop of Ely and Doctor Latimer have just left him. But the lord protector and the council may return at any moment, and then—”
“You hear, princess?” said the constable.
“I do,” she replied. “But you promised to bring me to the king. I call upon you to make good your word.”
“Nay, then, I must needs comply,” returned the constable. “You shall not suffer for this, sir, with the lord protector,” he added to the usher; “the fault is mine, and I will bear the blame. There is no need to announce her highness.”
With this, he took Elizabeth’s hand, and led her on. The doors were thrown open, and they entered a spacious chamber, at the upper end of which Edward was discovered, seated beside a table. A book was open before him, but it was evident he was not engaged in its perusal.
On seeing Elizabeth he arose, and advanced slowly to meet her. He was magnificently attired in a jerkin of cloth of gold raised with purple velvet and tissue, over which he wore a purple velvet gown, embroidered with gold, and lined and trimmed with ermine. His cap was of black velvet, richly ornamented with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, and having a white feather in it, inclining towards the right ear. His splendor, however, accorded ill with his looks. He moved feebly, and looked pale, careworn, and unhappy. Never before had he greeted Elizabeth as he greeted her now. In a sharp, almost angry voice, he demanded why she came there, and how she had obtained admittance.
“It is my fault, sire,” interposed the constable. “I have ventured to disobey orders.”
“Then you have done wrong—very wrong, Sir John. Know you not?—” And he suddenly stopped.
“I know it all, sire,” said Elizabeth, casting herself at his feet. “I come as a suppliant for the admiral, and will not quit this posture till you consent to spare him.”
“Alas! Elizabeth,” rejoined Edward, sadly, “you ask a grace which it is impossible for me to bestow. My unhappy uncle is attainted and condemned by the Parliament, and I have been compelled, though sorely against my will, to ratify the sentence. The high crimes and misdemeanors of which he has been guilty leave him no hope of pardon.”
“No hope, sire!” cried Elizabeth. “Oh, say not so. One word from you will save him. Pronounce it, royal brother, for my sake—for the sake of your future peace, for your breast will never be free from remorse if you suffer him to perish.”
“I have not judged my uncle,” said Edward. “He has been justly condemned. His terrible designs were happily frustrated, but if they had succeeded, the whole state would have been subverted, the kingdom devastated by civil war, and I myself perchance driven from the throne—to make way for him.”
“These are the charges of the admiral’s enemies, sire,” rejoined Elizabeth. “He has had no opportunity of disproving them, for an open trial, which he demanded, was refused him. His aim was to free your Majesty, to whom he is devoted, from the thraldom in which you are placed. For this he is to be sacrificed. But no, sire, you will not do it. Your noble and generous nature must revolt at such injustice. You will not aid the lord protector in his fratricidal schemes.”
“Peace, Elizabeth; you go too far.”
“No, sire, I speak the truth, and it shall out. Nothing but his brother’s life will content the Duke of Somerset. ‘Tis he who, by his artful misrepresentations, has steeled your breast against your once-loved uncle—’tis he who has procured this bill of attainder against him—ho has stifled his cries—and would now force you to aid him in the work of destruction. Is not the admiral bound to you by ties of near relationship? Will you sunder those ties? Will you allow the lord protector to imbrue his hands in his brother’s blood, and compel you to share his guilt? Have patience with me, sire. I am half distracted.”