“You shall give it me to-morrow,” she answered evasively.
“It is his head you require,” observed Renard, with a sinister smile, as they quitted the Beauchamp Tower.
“You have guessed rightly,” rejoined the old woman, savagely.
“We have him in our toils,” returned Renard. “He cannot escape. You ought to be content with your vengeance, Gunnora. You have destroyed both body and soul.”
“I am content,” she answered.
“And now to Mauger,” said Renard, “to give him the necessary instructions. You should bargain with him for Northumberland’s head, since you are so anxious to possess it.”
“I shall not live to receive it,” rejoined Gunnora.
“Not live!” he exclaimed. “What mean you?”
“No matter,” she replied. “We lose time. I am anxious to finish this business. I have much to do to-night.”
Taking their way across the Green, and hastening down the declivity they soon arrived at the Bloody Tower. Here they learnt from a warder that Mauger, since Queen Mary’s accession, had taken up his quarters in the Cradle Tower, and thither they repaired. Traversing the outer ward in the direction of the Lanthorn Tower, they passed through a wide portal and entered the Privy Gardens, on the right of which stood the tower in question.
As they drew near, they heard the shrill sound produced by the sharpening of some steel instrument. Smiling significantly at Gunnora, Renard instead of opening the door proceeded to a narrow loop-hole, and looked in. He beheld a savage-looking individual seated on a bench near a grindstone. He had an axe in one hand, which he had just been sharpening, and was trying its edge with his thumb. His fierce blood-shot eyes, peering from beneath his bent and bushy brows, were fixed upon the weapon. His dress consisted of a doublet of red serge with tight black sleeves, and hose of the same colour. His brow was lowering and wrinkled, the summit of his head perfectly bald, but the sides were garnished with long black locks, which together with his immense grizzled moustaches, bristling like the whiskers of a cat-a-mountain, and ragged beard, imparted a wild and forbidding look to his physiognomy. Near him rested a square, solid piece of wood, hollowed out on either side to admit the shoulder and head of the person laid upon it. This was the block. Had Renard not known whom he beheld, instinct would have told him it was the headsman.
Apparently satisfied with the sharpness of the implement, Mauger was about to lay it aside, when the door opened, and Renard and Gunnora entered the chamber. The executioner rose to receive them. He had received a wound in his left leg which had crippled the limb, and he got up with difficulty.
“Do not disturb yourself,” said Renard. “My business will be despatched in a few seconds. You are preparing I see for the execution to-morrow. What I have to say relates to it. The moment the duke’s head is laid upon this block,” he added, pointing to it, “strike. Give him not a moment’s pause. Do you hear?”
“I do,” replied Mauger. “But I must have some warrant?”
“Be this your warrant,” replied Renard, flinging him a heavy purse. “If you require further authority, you shall have it under the queen’s own hand.”
“I require nothing further, worshipful sir,” replied Mauger, smilingly grimly. “Ere the neck has rested one second upon the block, the head shall be off.”
“I have also a boon to offer, and an injunction to give,” said Gunnora taking off the ring given her by the unfortunate Lady Jane, and presenting it to him.
“Your gift is the richer of the two, or I am mistaken, good mistress,” said Mauger, regarding the glittering gem with greedy eyes. “What am I to do for it? I cannot behead him twice.”
“I shall stand in front of the scaffold to-morrow,” replied Gunnora, “in some conspicuous place where you will easily discern me. Before you deal the fatal blow, make a sign to me—thus—do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” replied the headsman. “I will not fail you.”
Upon this, Renard and the old woman quitted the Cradle Tower, and walked together as far as the outer ward, where each took a separate course.