The Constable of the Tower

“This I know!” returned Gage.

“My mind misgives me as to Hertford,” pursued Henry. “Something I have noticed in him of late makes me suspect him of sinister designs. I fear he aims at too much power, and will not be altogether true to Edward.”

“Yet the prince is his nephew, and must therefore be most dear to him,” observed Gage.

“He ought to be,” rejoined Henry. “You judge of others by yourself, good Sir John—but all are not of your stamp. If I thought my suspicions of Hertford were correct, I would strike out his name.”

“Nay, do not that, I entreat you, my liege. I think him faithful,” said the constable.

“Thy opinion is ever honest, and I will be guided by it,” said the king. “Hertford’s name shall stand, though I had determined otherwise. But I will control him. At present, thou and Sir Thomas Seymour are mere counsellors, without voice or power. Ye both shall be executors, and have equal power with Hertford.”

“I cannot answer for Sir Thomas Seymour,” rejoined Gage; “but, for myself, I may say that I desire not the office.”

“I will have no refusal,” said Henry, authoritatively. “Sir Thomas is Edward’s favorite uncle. The boy loves him, and is beloved in return. Sir Thomas will guard him well—as thou wilt—ha?”

“Sir Thomas is more to be feared than his brother, according to my judgment,” observed Gage.

“There thou art wrong,” rejoined Henry. “Sir Thomas is rash and headstrong, but trusty as steel. I have tried him.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the constable, dubiously. “Since your Majesty designs to make these changes in your will, why should Gardiner be left out? He is the ablest among the prelates, and of great experience in politics. Moreover, he has done your highness many notable services.”

“For the which he hath been well rewarded,” interrupted Henry, sternly. “I will have none of him. Gardiner hath ability enough, but he is a subtle intriguer, and would set ye all by the ears. I can manage him, but no one else can. Thou art a Papist, Sir John, hence thy recommendation of Gardiner. But he shall have no power to breed discord in the Church when I am gone. It is quite enough that Wriothesley should be retained—I had thoughts of erasing his name likewise, and substituting the Marquis of Dorset.”

“I pray you do not, sire,” said Gage.

“Nay, thou mayst spare thy suing. I am content to keep the lord chancellor. I do not think he will do much mischief, and he will counterbalance Cranmer. Haste, then, and fetch Sir Thomas Seymour, and let William Clerc be in attendance with my secret stamp. My fingers are so swollen that I cannot use the pen.”

“Heavens! is it possible your Majesty can have been so imprudent as to put off the signing of your will till now? You might have died last night; and then—”

“Prate not, but do as I have commanded thee,” interrupted the king. “Yet stay!—is Cranmer in the palace?”

“Ay, my liege; his grace is but newly returned from Croydon,” replied the constable.

“That is well. Let him come to me anon,” said the king, more feebly. “This talk has wearied me. I feel as if could sleep. Send Butts to watch by me, but let me not be otherwise disturbed for an hour.”

“But the execution of the will, sire?—it is most urgent,” cried the constable.

But Henry made no reply. He had already begun to breathe heavily and stertorously.

After gazing at him for a moment, as if in doubt whether to rouse him, Gage left the room.

No sooner was he gone, than Hertford peered from behind the curtain; and seeing that Henry was asleep—and, indeed, his loud breathing proclaimed the fact—he stepped cautiously forward.

At the same moment, Butts entered the chamber. Alarmed by Henry’s breathing, without noticing the earl, he rushed to the king’s bedside.

“‘Tis as I feared,” he said, after a pause, turning to Hertford. “This is the lethargy of death. He will never wake again—or, if he should, his mind will wander. Great Henry’s power has left him. The absolute monarch is all helpless now.”

“I would not rouse him from his trance, but let him go, were it not that the will remains unsigned!” exclaimed Hertford, distractedly. “I must wake him,” he added, rushing towards the bed.

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