“At the By-ward Tower, your highness,” replied Bedingfeld. “The traitor Wyat directs the attack in that quarter; and he is most to be feared of all our opponents. I will not quit the fortification with my life. But who shall succeed me, if I fall?”
“The queen,” replied Mary. “But you will not fall, good Bedingfeld. You are appointed by Heaven to be my preserver. Go to your post; and keep it, in my name. Go, and fight for your royal mistress, and for the holy Catholic faith which we both of us profess, and which these rebels, these heretics, would overthrow. Go, and the Virgin prosper you, and strengthen your arm.”
“I obey your majesty,” replied Bedingfeld; “and yet I cannot but feel that my place is by your side.”
“Ah! do you loiter, sir?” cried Mary fiercely. “You have tarried here too long already. Do you not hear yon loud-voiced cannon summon you hence? Are you deaf to those cries? To your post, sir, and quit it not for your head. Stay!” she added, as the knight was about to obey her. “I meant not this. I have been over-hasty. But you will bear with me. Go. I have no fears, and have much to do. Success be with you. We meet again as victors, or we meet no more.”
“We shall meet ere daybreak,” replied the knight. And quitting the presence, he hurried to the By-ward Tower.
“In case fate declares itself against your highness, and the insurgents win the fortress,” observed Renard, “I can convey you beyond their reach. I am acquainted with a subterranean passage communicating with the further side of the moat, and have stationed a trusty guard at its entrance.”
“In the event your excellency anticipates,” returned Mary, sternly, “but which I am assured will never occur, I will not fly. While one stone of that citadel stands upon another it shall never be surrendered; and while life remains to her, Mary of England will never desert it. In your next despatch to the prince your master, tell him his proposed consort proved herself worthy—in resolution, at least—of the alliance.”
“I will report your intrepid conduct to the prince,” replied Renard. “But I would, for his sake, if not for your own, gracious madam, that you would not further expose yourself.”
“To the ramparts!” cried Mary, disregarding him. “Let those follow me, who are not afraid to face these traitors.”
Quitting the entrance-hall, she mounted a broad staircase of carved oak, and traversing a long gallery, entered a passage leading to the Bell Tower, a fortification already described as standing on the west of the lieutenant’s lodgings, and connected with them. The room to which the passage brought her, situated on the upper story, and now used as part of the domestic offices of the governor, was crowded with soldiers, busily employed in active defensive preparations. Some were discharging their calivers through the loopholes at the besiegers, while others were carrying ammunition to the roof of the building.
Addressing a few words of encouragement to them, and, crossing the room, Mary commanded an officer to conduct her to the walls. Seeing from her manner that remonstrance would be useless, the officer obeyed. As she emerged from the low arched doorway opening upon the ballium wall, the range of wooden houses on the opposite side of the moat burst into flames, and the light of the conflagration, while it revealed the number of her enemies and their plan of attack, rendered her situation infinitely more perilous, inasmuch as it betrayed her to general observation. Directed by the shouts, the besiegers speedily discovered the occasion of the clamour; and though Sir Thomas Wyat, who was engaged at the moment in personally directing the assault on the Bulwark Gate, commanded his men to cease firing in that quarter, his injunctions were wholly disregarded, and several shots struck the battlements close to the queen. Seriously alarmed, Gardiner earnestly entreated her to retire, but she peremptorily refused, and continued her course as slowly as if no danger beset her, ever and anon pausing to watch the movements of the besiegers, or to encourage and direct her own men. Before she reached the Beauchamp Tower, the Bulwark Gate was carried, and the triumphant shouts of the insurgents drew from her an exclamation of bitter anger.