The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

On descending, they found Xit stationed in the centre of the bridge, carrying the spear with Bret’s head upon it. The dwarf eagerly inquired whether they had taken Wyat; and being answered in the negative, expressed his satisfaction.

“The achievement is reserved for me,” he cried; “no more laughter, my masters, no more familiarity. I am about to receive knighthood from the queen.” This announcement, however, so far from checking the merriment of the giants, increased it to such a degree, that the irascible mannikin dashed the gory head in their faces, and would have attacked them with the spear, if they had not disarmed him.

By this time, Sir Henry Bedingfeld had returned from the pursuit of the rebels. Many prisoners had been taken, and conveyed, by his directions, to a secure part of the fortress. Exerting himself to the utmost, and employing a large body of men in the work, the damages done to the different defences of the fortress were speedily repaired, the bodies of the slain thrown into the river, and all rendered as secure as before. The crews on board Winter’s squadron had surrendered; but their commander, together with the Duke of Suffolk, had escaped, having been put ashore in a small boat. Conceiving all lost, and completely panic-stricken, the duke obtained horses for himself and a few companions, and riding to Shene, where he had appointed a meeting with his brother, Lord Thomas Grey, set off with him, at full speed, for Coventry, the inhabitants of which city he imagined were devoted to him. But he soon found out his error. Abandoned by his adherents, and betrayed into the hands of the Earl of Huntingdon, who had been sent after him, he was shortly afterwards brought a prisoner to the Tower.

Not to anticipate events, such was the expedition used, that in less than an hour, Bedingfeld conveyed to the queen the intelligence that all damage done by the besiegers was repaired, and that her loss had been trifling compared with that of her enemies. He found her surrounded by her nobles; and on his appearance she arose, and advanced a few steps to meet him.

“You have discharged your office right well, Sir Henry,”she said; “and if we deprive you of it for a while, it is because we mean to intrust you with a post of yet greater importance.”

“Whatever office your majesty may intrust me with, I will gladly accept it,” replied Bedingfeld.

“It is our pleasure, then, that you set out instantly with the Earl of Sussex to Ashbridge,” returned Mary, “and attach the person of the Princess Elizabeth. Here is your warrant. Bring her alive or dead.”

“Alas!” exclaimed Bedingfeld, “is this the task your highness has reserved for me?”

“It is,” replied Mary; and she added in a lower tone, “you are the only man to whom I could confide it.”

“I must perforce obey, since your majesty wills it, but—”

“You must set out at once,” interrupted Mary, “Sir Thomas Brydges shall be lieutenant of the Tower in your stead. We reserve you for greater dignities.”

Bedingfeld would have remonstrated, but seeing the queen was immovable, he signified his compliance, and having received further instructions, quitted the presence to make preparations for his departure.

The last efforts of the insurgents must be briefly told. After allowing his men a few hours’ rest, Wyat made a forced march to Kingston, and hastily repairing the bridge, which had been broken down, with planks, ladders, and beams tied together, passed over it with his ordnance and troops in safety, and proceeded towards London. In consequence of a delay that occurred on the road, his plan was discovered, and the Earl of Pembroke, having by this time collected a considerable army, drew up his forces in Saint James’s fields to give him battle.

A desperate skirmish took place, in which the insurgents, disheartened by their previous defeat, were speedily worsted. Another detachment, under the command of Knevet, were met and dispersed at Charing Cross, by Sir Henry Jerningham, and would have been utterly destroyed, but that they could not be distinguished from the royalists, except by their muddy apparel, which occasioned the cry among the victors of ” Down with the draggle-tails.”