The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“May I then hope?” asked the earl, eagerly.

“You may,” replied Mary, softly.

The brilliant vision which these words raised before Courtenay’s eyes, was dispersed by a look which he at that moment received from Elizabeth.

The festivities in the court did not terminate with the departure of the royal train. Xit was replaced in the turret, whence he aimed his darts at the prettiest damsels he could perceive, creating infinite merriment among the crowd. An immense ring was then formed by all the mummers, who danced round the three giants, the minstrels accompanying the measure with appropriate strains. Nothing more grotesque can be imagined than the figures of Gog and Magog, as engaged in the dance, in their uncouth garbs. As to Og, he flourished his clubs, and twirled himself round with great rapidity in the opposite direction to the round of dancers, until at last, becoming giddy, he lost his balance, and fell with a tremendous crash, upsetting Xit for the second time.

Ever destined to accidents, the dwarf, from his diminutive stature, seldom sustained any injury, and upon this occasion, though a good deal terrified, he escaped unhurt. Og was speedily uncased, and, glad to be set at liberty, joined the ring of dancers, and footed it with as much glee as the merriest of them.

As the evening advanced, fireworks were discharged, and a daring rope-dancer, called Peter the Dutchman, ascended the cupola of the south-east turret of the White Tower, and got upon the vane, where he lighted a couple of torches. After standing for some time, now upon one foot, now on the other, he kindled a firework placed in a sort of helmet on his head, and descended amid a shower of sparks by a rope, one end of which was fastened in the court where the masquers were assembled. A substantial supper, of which the mummers and their friends partook, concluded the diversions of the evening, and all departed well satisfied with their entertainment.

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CHAPTER XV

BY WHOSE INSTRUMENTALITY QUEEN MARY BECAME CONVINCED OF COURTENAY’S INCONSTANCY; AND HOW SHE AFFIANCED HERSELF TO PHILLIP OF SPAIN.

WHILE the festivities above described occurred without the palace, within, all was confusion and alarm. The look, which Elizabeth had given Courtenay, sank into his very soul. All his future greatness appeared valueless in his eyes, and his only desire was to break off the alliance with Mary, and reinstate himself in the affections of her sister. For the queen, it is almost needless to say, he felt no real love. But he was passionately enamoured of Elizabeth, whose charms had completely captivated him.

As soon as she could consistently do so, after her return to the palace, the princess retired to her own apartments, and though her departure afforded some relief to the earl, he still continued in a state of great perturbation. Noticing his altered manner, the queen inquired the cause with great solicitude. Courtenay answered her evasively. And putting her own construction upon it, she said in a tone of encouragement, “It was a strange remark made by the little urchin who enacted Cupid. Was he tutored in his speech?”

“Not by me, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay, distractedly.

“Then the knave hath a ready wit,” returned the queen. “He has put thoughts into my head which I cannot banish thence.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the earl. “I trust his boldness has not offended you.”

“Do I look so?” rejoined Mary, smiling. “If I do, my countenance belies my feelings. No, Courtenay, I have been thinking that no woman can govern a great kingdom, like mine, unaided. She must have some one, to whom she can ever apply for guidance and protection; some one to whom she can open her whole heart, to whom she can look for counsel, consolation, love. In whom could she find all this?”

“In no one but a husband, gracious madam,” replied Courtenay, who felt he could no longer affect to misunderstand her.

“You are right, my lord,” she replied playfully. “Can you not assist our choice?”

“If I dared,” said Courtenay, who felt he was standing upon the verge of a precipice.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Mary. “A queen must ever play the wooer. It is part of her prerogative. Our choice is already made, so we need not consult you on the subject.”