The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“The god of love appears in a perilous position, my lord,” observed the queen, joining in the laughter of the spectators.

“He does, indeed,” replied Courtenay; “and though the Tower may defend itself, I fear its chief treasure will be lost in the struggle.”

“You speak the truth, my lord,” remarked the deep voice of Simon Renard, from behind.

If Courtenay intended any reply to this observation of his mortal foe, it was prevented by an incident which at that moment occurred. Combining their forces, the rabble rout of dragons, gorgons, imps, and demons had made a desperate assault upon the Tower. Og whirled around his clubs with increased rapidity, and dozens were prostrated by their sweep. Gog and Magog likewise plied their weapons vigorously, and the assailants were driven back completely discomfited.

But, unluckily, at this moment, Og made a rush forward to complete his conquest, and in so doing pitched Xit out of the turret. Falling head-foremost into the yawning jaws of an enormous goggle-eyed sea-monster, whose mouth seemed purposely opened to receive him, and being moved by springs, immediately closed, the dwarf entirely disappeared. A scream of delight arose from the spectators, who looked upon the occurrence as part of the pageant.

The queen laughed heartily at Xit’s mischance, and even Courtenay, though discomposed by the accident, could not help joining in the universal merriment.

“I might take it as an evil omen,” he remarked in an undertone to Mary, ” that love should be destroyed by your majesty’s enemies.”

“See! he reappears,” cried the queen, calling the earl’s atention to the monster, whose jaws opened and discovered the dwarf. “He has sustained no injury.”

Xit’s disaster, meanwhile, had occasioned a sudden suspension of hostilities among the combatants. All the mummers set up a shout of laughter, and the echoing of sound produced by their masks was almost unearthly. Gog and Magog, grinning from ear to ear, now approached the dwarf, and offered to restore him to his turret. But he positively refused to stir, and commanded the monster, in whose jaws he was seated, to carry him to the queen. After a little parley, the order was obeyed; and the huge pasteboard monster, which was guided within-side by a couple of men, wheeled round, and dragged its scaly length towards the terrace.

Arrived opposite the royal seat, the mimic Cupid sprang out of the monster’s jaws, and fluttering his gauzy wings (which were a little the worse for his recent descent) to give himself the appearance of flying, ran nimbly up the side of the terrace, and vaulted upon the balustrade in front of her majesty. He had still possession of his bow and arrows, and poising himself with considerable grace on the point of his left foot, fitted a silver shaft to the string, and aimed it at the queen.

“Your highness is again threatened,” observed Sir Henry Bedingfeld, advancing and receiving the arrow, which, winged with but little force, dropped harmlessly from his robe.

“You are ever faithful, Sir Henry,” observed Mary, to the knight, whose zeal in this instance occasioned a smile among the attendants; ” but we have little fear from the darts of Cupid.”

Xit, meanwhile, had fitted another arrow, and drawing it with greater force, struck Courtenay on the breast. Not content with this, the mischievous urchin let fly a third shaft at the Princess Elizabeth, who had advanced somewhat nearer the queen, and the arrow chancing to stick to some of the ornaments on her stomacher, appeared to have actually pierced her bosom. Elizabeth coloured deeply as she plucked the dart from her side, and threw it angrily to the ground. A cloud gathered on the queen’s brow, and Courtenay was visibly disconcerted.

Xit, however, either unconscious of the trouble he had occasioned, or utterly heedless of it, took a fourth arrow from his quiver, and affecting to sharpen its point upon the stone balustrade, shot it against Jane the Fool. This last shaft likewise hit its mark, though Jane endeavoured to ward it off with her marotte; and Xit completed the absurdity of the scene by fluttering towards her, and seizing her hand, pressed it to his lips—a piece of gallantry for which he was rewarded by a sound cuff on the ears.