The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

This encounter was so far of service to Jane, that it served to distract her thoughts, and she had in a great measure regained her composure, when another incident occurred, which had nearly upset her altogether. As she passed near the porch of Saint Peter’s Chapel, she beheld Simon Renard emerge from it. And if she felt her blood chilled by the sight of her implacable foe, her alarm was not diminished on hearing him call to her guards to bring her within the chapel. At a loss to comprehend the meaning of this mysterious summons, Jane entered the sacred structure. Coldly saluting her, Renard informed her that her husband was within the chapel. Trembling at the intimation, Jane looked eagerly round. At first, she could discern nothing; but, guided by the ambassador’s malignant glance, she perceived a figure kneeling in front of the altar. Instantly recognising her husband, with an exclamation of delight that made him spring to his feet, she rushed forward and threw herself into his arms.

After the first passionate emotion had subsided, Jane inquired how he came to be there.

“Do you not know?” replied Lord Guilford. “Or have you been kept in ignorance of the terrible tragedy which has been recently enacted? Look there!” And he pointed downwards.

Jane obeyed, and saw that she was standing upon a gravestone, on which was inscribed in newly-cut letters— John Dudley, Duke of Nortbumberland—DECAPITATED AUGUST 22, 1553.

Jane trembled and leaned upon her husband for support.

“Here is the victim, there the executioner,” said Lord Guilford, pointing from the grave to Renard.

“Three months ago,” said the ambassador, who stood with folded arms at a little distance from them, “within this very chapel, I told the Duke of Northumberland he would occupy that grave. My words have been fulfilled. And I now tell you, Lord Guilford Dudley, and you Lady Jane, that unless you are reconciled with our holy church, you will rest beside him.”

With these words he quitted the chapel, and the guards closing round the captives, they were compelled to follow. During their short walk, Jane passionately implored her husband not to yield to the persuasions of his enemies. He hung his head and returned no answer, and she inferred from his silence, that he was not disposed to yield to her solicitations. They were now close upon the Beauchamp Tower, when Dudley, pointing to a barred window in the upper story of one of its turrets, observed, “Within that room my father passed the last few weeks of his existence.”

Ascending the spiral stone stairs of the tower, they passed beneath the arched doorway, and entered the principal chamber, now used—as has more than once been observed—as the mess-room of the garrison. Here they found Gardiner awaiting their arrival. He was seated on a high-backed arm-chair between Bonner and Feckenham, who occupied stools on either side of him, while behind him stood the friar who had attended the Duke of Northumberland on the scaffold. Across one of the deep and arched embrasures of the room looking towards the south, a thick curtain was drawn, and before it, at a small table covered with a crimson cloth, on which writing materials were placed, sat a secretary prepared to take down the heads of the disputation. On Jane’s appearance, Gardiner and the other ecclesiastics arose and gravely saluted her.

“You are welcome, daughter,” said the bishop. “You have come hither an unbeliever in our doctrines. I trust you will depart confirmed in the faith of Rome.”

“I am come to vanquish, not to yield, my lord,” replied Jane, firmly. “And as I shall give you no quarter, so I expect none.”

“Be it so,” rejoined the bishop. “To you, my son,” he continued, addressing Lord Guilford, “I can hold very different language. I can give you such welcome as the prodigal son received, and rejoice in your reconciliation with your heavenly father. And I sincerely trust that this noble lady, your consort, will not be a means of turning aside that mercy which her most gracious majesty is desirous of extending towards you.”

“My lord,” said Jane, stepping between them, and steadfastly regarding the bishop, “if I am wrong and my husband is right, the queen will do well not to punish the innocent with the guilty. And you, dear Dudley,” she continued, taking his hand, and gazing at him with streaming eyes, “grant me one favour, the last I shall ever ask of you.”