The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

“Your vengeance shall be fully gratified,” replied the stranger. “Come with me.”

“Hold!” exclaimed Gunnora. “How will this testimony affect the Lady Jane?”

“It will deprive her of her crown—perchance her head,” rejoined the stranger.

“Then it shall never be uttered,” replied Gunnora, firmly.

“Torture shall wring it from you,” cried the stranger, furiously.

The old woman drew herself up to her full height, and, regarding the stranger fixedly, answered in a stern tone, “Let it be tried upon me.”

“Mother,” said Gilbert, striding between them, and drawing his dagger, “go back to your own room. You shall not peril your safety thus.”

“Tush!” exclaimed the stranger, impatiently. “No harm shall befall her. I thought you were both loyal subjects of Queen Mary. How can she assume the sovereign power while Jane grasps the sceptre?”

“But you aim at her life?” said Gunnora.

“No,” replied the stranger, “I would preserve her. My object is to destroy Northumberland, and restore the crown to her to whom it rightfully belongs.”

“In that case I will go with you,” returned the old woman.

“You will fall into a snare,” interposed her grandson. “Let him declare who he is.”

“I will reveal my name to your grandame, boy,” replied the stranger. And advancing towards Gunnora, he whispered in her ear.

The old woman started and trembled.

“Hinder me not, Gilbert,” she said. “I must go with him.”

“Shall I accompany you?” asked her grandson.

“On no account,” replied the stranger, “unless you desire to be lodged in the deepest dungeon in the Tower. Be at the place of rendezvous to-morrow night, and you shall know more. Are you ready, good dame?”

Gunnora signified her assent; and, after a few parting words with her grandson, the latter unfastened a small door, opening upon the yard, and let them out.

They were scarcely clear of the house, when the stranger, placing a silver whistle to his lips, blew a call upon it, which was instantly answered by a couple of attendants. At a signal from their leader they placed themselves on either side of Gunnora, and in spite of her resistance and remonstrances, dragged her forcibly along. The stranger, who marched a few yards in advance, proceeded at so rapid a pace, that the old woman found it utterly impossible to keep up with him. She therefore stood still, and refused to take another step. But this did not avail her, for the two attendants seized her in their arms, and hurried forward as swiftly as before.

Though bewildered and alarmed, Gunnora did not dare to cry out for assistance. Indeed, they did not encounter a single passenger in the streets, until, as they were descending Budge Row, they heard the clank of arms, and beheld the gleam of torches borne by a party of the watch who were approaching from Canwick Street, or as it is now called, Cannon Street.

Turning off on the right, the stranger descended Dowgate Hill, and gained Thames Street before he had been remarked. A short time sufficed to bring him to St. Mary Hill, up which he mounted, and entering Thames Street, and passing St. Dunstan’s in the East on the right, and the ancient church of All Hallows Barking on the left, he reached Great Tower Hill.

By this time, the vapours from the river had cleared off. The stars had begun to peep forth, and the first glimpse of day to peer in the east. By this light, and from this spot, the stern and sombre outline of the Tower, with its ramparts, its citadel, and its numerous lesser turrets, was seen to great advantage. On the summit of the Hill appeared the scaffold and the gallows already noticed.

Pausing for a moment, and pointing to a range of buildings, the summits of which could just be distinguished, to the south of the White Tower, the stranger said, “Within that palace Northumberland now reposes, surrounded by a triple line of fortifications, and defended by a thousand armed men. But if you will only reveal all you know, ere another week has passed his head shall be laid on that scaffold.”

“The last time I beheld that fatal spot,” returned Gunnora, “my foster-son, the Duke of Somerset, was decapitated there. If I can avenge him upon his foe, I shall die content.”

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