“You shall have it, friends,” cried Dudley, “provided you will fight for Queen Jane.”
“Agreed!” replied the gunners. “Long live Queen Jane.”
“Stand by me,” returned Dudley, “and these stout walls shall either prove our safeguard, or our tomb.”
The gunners then saw how matters stood, but they could not retract; and they awaited a favourable opportunity to turn against their new masters.
Perceiving the course taken by Dudley and his companions, Renard felt certain of their capture, and repeated his injunctions to the soldiers to take him alive if possible, but on no account to suffer him to escape.
Dudley, meanwhile, endeavoured with Cholmondeley to drag one of the large pieces of ordnance out of the embrasure in which it was placed, with the view of pointing it against their foes. But before this could be accomplished, the attack commenced. Darting to the head of the steps, Dudley valiantly defended the pass for some time; and the royalist soldiers, obedient to the injunctions of Renard, forbore to strike him, and sought only his capture. The arched roof rang with the clash of weapons, with the reports of shot, and with the groans of the wounded and dying. The floor beneath them soon became slippery with blood. Still, Dudley kept his ground. All at once, he staggered and fell. A blow had been dealt him from behind by one of the gunners, who had contrived to approach him unawares.
“It is over,” he groaned to his esquire, “finish me, and fly, if you can, to Jane.”
Cholmondeley raised his sword to comply with his lord’s injunctions, but the blow was arrested by the strong arm of Renard, who, bestriding his prey, cried, in a voice of exultation, “He is mine! Bear him to the queen before he expires.”
Cholmondeley heard no more, but darting backwards, sprang into the embrasure whence he had endeavoured to drag the cannon, and forcing himself through the aperture, dropped from the dizzy height into the moat.
While this was passing, Mary proceeded to Saint John’s Chapel in the White Tower. It was brilliantly illuminated, and high mass was being performed by Bonner and the whole of the priesthood assembled within the fortress. The transition from the roar and tumult without to this calm and sacred scene was singularly striking, and calculated to produce a strong effect on the feelings. There, all was strife and clamour; the air filled with smoke was almost stifling; and such places as were not lighted up by the blaze of the conflagration or the flashing of the ordnance and musquetry, were buried in profound gloom. Here, all was light, odour, serenity, sanctity. Without, fierce bands were engaged in deathly fight—nothing was heard but the clash of arms, the thunder of cannon, the shouts of the victorious, the groans of the dying. Within, holy men were celebrating their religious rites, undisturbed by the terrible struggle around them, and apparently unconscious of it; tapers shone from every pillar, the atmosphere was heavy with incense; and the choral hymn mingled with the scarce-heard roar of cannon. Mary was so affected by the scene, that for the first time she appeared moved. Her bosom heaved, and a tear started to her eye.
“How peaceful is the holy place,” she observed to Gardiner, “and what a contrast it presents to the scene we have just quitted! I could almost wish that heaven had destined me to the cloister instead of the throne, that I might pass my days in the exercise of my religion.”
“Heaven has destined you to be the restorer and defender of our religion, madam,” replied Gardiner. “Had you not been called to the high station you occupy, the Catholic worship, so long discontinued in these holy walls, would not now be celebrated. To you we owe its restoration; to you we must owe its continuance.”
As Mary advanced to the altar, the anthem ceased, and silence prevailed throughout the sacred structure. Prostrating herself, she prayed for a few moments fervently, and in an audible voice. She then arose, and observed to Gardiner, “I feel so much comforted, that I am assured Heaven will support me and our holy religion.”
As she spoke, solemn music resounded through the chapel, the anthem was again chanted, and the priests resumed their holy rites. With a heart strengthened and elated, Mary ascended the staircase behind the altar, and passing through the gallery proceeded to the council-chamber, where she was informed that Xit, having captured a prisoner of importance, waited without to ascertain her pleasure concerning him. Mary ordered the dwarf to be brought into her presence with his captive, and in few moments he was introduced with Bret, who was guarded by a couple of halberdiers.