“Woman,” rejoined the duke, “I distrust you. I will die in the faith I have lived.”
“Be it so,” she replied. “I have discharged the only weight I had upon my conscience, and can now indulge my revenge freely. Farewell! my lord. Our next meeting will be on Tower Hill.”
“Hold!” cried Northumberland. “It may be as you represent, though my mind misgives me.”
“It is but forswearing yourself,” observed Gunnora, sarcastically. “Life is cheaply purchased at such a price.”
“Wretch!” cried the duke. “And yet I have no alternative. I accede.”
“Sign this then,” returned Gunnora, “and it shall be instantly conveyed to her highness.”
Northumberland took the paper, and casting his eye hastily over it, found it was a petition to the queen, praying that he might be allowed to recant his religious opinions publicly, and become reconciled to the Church of Rome.
“It is in the hand of Simon Renard,” he observed.
“It is,” replied Gunnora.
“But who will assure me if I do this, my life will be spared?”
“I will,” answered the old woman.
“You!” cried the duke.
“I pledge myself to it,” replied Gunnora. “Your life would be spared, even if your head were upon the block. I swear to you by this cross,” she added, raising the crucifix that hung at her neck, “if I have played you falsely, I will not survive you.”
“Enough,” replied the duke, signing the paper.
“This shall to the queen at once,” said Gunnora, snatching it with a look of ill-disguised triumph. “To-morrow will be a proud day for our church.”
And with this she quitted the cell.
The next morning, the duke was visited by Gardiner, on whose appearance he flung himself on his knees. The bishop immediately raised him, and embraced him, expressing his delight to find that he at last saw through his errors. It was then arranged that the ceremonial of the reconciliation should take place at midnight in Saint John’s Chapel in the White Tower. When the duke’s conversion was made known to the other prisoners, the Marquess of Northampton, Sir Andrew Dudley (Northumberland’s brother), Sir Henry Gates, and Sir Thomas Palmer; they all—with the exception of the Earl of Warwick, who strongly and indignantly reprobated his father’s conduct—desired to be included in the ceremonial. The proposal being readily agreed to, priests were sent to each of them, and the remainder of the day was spent in preparation for the coming rites.
At midnight, as had been arranged, they were summoned. Preceded by two priests, one of whom bore a silver cross, and the other a large flaming wax candle, and escorted by a band of halberdiers, carrying lighted torches, the converts proceeded singly, at a slow pace, across the Green, in the direction of the White Tower. Behind them marched the three gigantic warders, Og, Gog, and Magog, each provided with a torch. It was a solemn and impressive spectacle, and as the light fell upon the assemblage collected to view it, and upon the hoary walls of the keep, the effect was peculiarly striking. Northumberland walked with his arms folded, and his head upon his breast, and looked neither to the right nor to the left.
Passing through Coal Harbour Gate, the train entered an arched doorway in a structure then standing at the south-west of the White Tower. Traversing a long winding passage, they ascended a broad flight of steps, at the head of which was a gallery leading to the western entrance of the chapel. Here, before the closed door of the sacred structure, beneath the arched and vaulted roof, surrounded by priests and deacons in rich copes, one of whom carried the crosier, while others bore silver-headed staves, attired in his amice, stole, pluvial, and alb, and wearing his mitre, sat Gardiner upon a faldstool. Advancing slowly towards him, the duke fell upon his knees, and his example was imitated by the others. Gardiner then proceeded to interrogate them in a series of questions appointed by the Romish formula for the reconciliation of a heretic; and the profession of faith having been duly made, he arose, took off his mitre, and delivering it to the nearest priest, and extended his arms over the converts, and pronounced the absolution. With his right thumb he then drew the sign of the cross on the duke’s forehead, saying, “Accipe signum crucis,” and being answered, “Accepi,” he went through the same form with the rest. Once more assuming the mitre, with his left hand he took the duke’s right, and raised him, saying, “Ingredere in ecclesiam Dei à quâ incaute aberrasti. Horresce idola. Respue omnes pravitates et superstitiones hereticas. Cole Deum, omnipotentem et Jesum filium ejus, et Spiritum Sanctum.”