The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Upon this, the doors of the chapel were thrown open, and the bishop led the chief proselyte towards the altar. Against the massive pillars at the east end of the chapel, reaching from their capitals to the base, was hung a thick curtain of purple velvet, edged with a deep border of gold. Relieved against this curtain stood the altar, covered with a richly-ornamented antipendium, sustaining a large silver crucifix, and six massive candlesticks of the same metal. At a few paces from it, on either side, were two other colossal silver candlesticks, containing enormous wax lights. On either side were grouped priests with censers, from which were diffused the most fragrant odours.

As Northumberland slowly accompanied the bishop along the nave, he saw, with some misgiving, the figures of Simon Renard and Gunnora emerge from behind the pillars of the northern aisle. His glance met that of Renard, and there was something in the look of the Spaniard that made him fear he was the dupe of a plot—but it was now too late to retreat. When within a few paces of the altar, the duke again knelt down, while the bishop removed his mitre as before, and placed himself in front of him. Meanwhile, the whole nave of the church, the aisles, and the circular openings of the galleries above, were filled with spectators. A wide semicircle was formed around the converts. On the right stood several priests. On the left Simon Renard had planted himself, and near to him stood Gunnora; while, on the same side against one of the pillars, was reared the gigantic frame of Magog. A significant look passed between them as Northumberland knelt before the altar. Extending his arms over the convert, Gardiner now pronounced the following exhortation:—”Omnipotens sempiterne Deus hanc ovem tuam de faucibus lupi tuâ virtute subtractam paternâ recipe pietate et gregi tuo reforma piâ benignitate ne de familiâ tuâ damno inimicus exultet; sed de conversione et liberatione ejus ecclesiam ut pia mater de filio reperto gratuletur per Christum Dominum nostrum.”

“Amen!” ejaculated Northumberland.

After uttering another prayer, the bishop resumed his mitre, and seating himself upon the faldstool, which, in the interim, had been placed by the attendants in front of the altar, again interrogated the proselyte:—

“Homo, abrenuncias Sathanas et angelos ejus?”

“Abrenuncio,” replied the duke.

“Abrenuncias etiam omnes sectas hereticœ pravitatis?” continued the bishop.

“Abrenuncio,” responded the convert.

“Vis esse et vivere in unitate sanctœ fidei Catholicœ” demanded Gardiner.

“Volo,” answered the duke.

Then again taking off his mitre, the bishop arose, and laying his right hand upon the head of the duke, recited another prayer, concluding by signing him with the cross. This done, he resumed his mitre, and seated himself on the faldstool, while Northumberland, in a loud voice, again made a profession of his faith, and abjuration of his errors—admitting and embracing the apostolical ecclesiastical traditions, and all others—acknowledging all the observances of the Roman Church—purgatory, the veneration of saints and relics, the power of indulgences, promising obedience to the Bishop of Rome, and engaging to retain and confess the same faith entire and inviolated to the end of his life. “Ago talis,” he said, in conclusion, “cognoscens veram Catholicam et Apostolicam fidem. Anathematizo hic publicè omnem heresem, prœcipuè illam de quâ hactenus extiti.” This he affirmed by placing both hands upon the book of the holy gospels, proffered him by the bishop, exclaiming, “Sic me Deus adjuvet, et hœc sancta Dei evangelia!”

The ceremony was ended, and the proselyte arose. At this moment, he met the glance of Renard—that triumphant and diabolical glance, its expression was not to be mistaken. Northumberland shuddered. He felt that he had been betrayed.

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CHAPTER VII

HOW THE DUKE OF NORTHUMBERLAND WAS BEHEADED ON TOWER HILL

THREE days after Northumberland’s reconciliation with the Church of Rome, the warrant for his execution was signed by Queen Mary. The fatal intelligence was brought him by the lieutenant, Sir John Gage, and though he received it with apparent calmness, his heart sank within him. He simply inquired when it was to take place, and, being informed on the following day at an early hour, he desired to be left alone. As soon as the lieutenant was gone, he abandoned himself wholly to despair, and fell into a state bordering on distraction. While he was in this frenzied state, the door of his cell opened, and the jailer introduced Gunnora Braose and a tall man muffled in the folds of an ample black cloak.