Three days after the marriage-treaty was signed, – namely, on the 15th of January, 1554, the lords of the council, the lord mayor, the aldermen, and forty of the head commoners of the city, were summoned to the Tower, where they were received in the presence-chamber of the palace by Gardiner and Renard; the former of whom, in his capacity of chancellor, made them a long oration, informing them that an alliance was definitively concluded between the queen and Philip of Spain; and adding, “that they were bound to thank God that so noble, worthy, and famous a prince would so humble himself in his union with her highness, as to take upon him rather the character of a subject, than of a monarch of equal power.”

The terms of the treaty were next read, and the chancellor expatiated upon the many important concessions made by the imperial ambassadors; endeavouring to demonstrate that England was by far the greatest gainer by the alliance, and stating, “that it was her highness’s pleasure and request, that like good subjects they would, for her sake, most lovingly receive her illustrious consort with reverence, joy, and honour.”

No plaudits followed this announcement, nor was the slightest expression of joy manifested, except by the lords Arundel, Paget, and Rochester, – the main supporters of the match, as has been previously stated, when it was brought before Parliament. Gardiner glanced at the council – at the civic authorities – as if in expectation of a reply, but none was attempted, unless their very silence could be so construed. Whatever his real sentiments might be, the chancellor assumed an air of deep displeasure, and turning to Renard, who, with arms folded on his breast, scanned the assemblage with a cold scrutinizing gaze, asked in an under tone, whether he should dismiss them?

“On no account,” replied the ambassador. “Compel them to give utterance to their thoughts. We shall the better know how to deal with them. My project once carried, and Philip united to Mary,” he muttered to himself, “we will speedily cudgel these stubborn English bull-dogs into obedience.”

“Renard does not appear to relish the reception which the announcement of her majesty’s proposed alliance has met with,” observed De Noailles, who stood in one corner of the chamber with Courtenay. “It will give him a foretaste of what is to follow. Had your lordship been proposed to the assembly, their manner would have been widely different.”

“Perhaps so,” returned Courtenay, with a gratified smile; “and yet I know not.”

“It may be shortly put to the proof,” answered De Noailles. “Never,” replied Courtenay; “I will never wed Mary.”

“But Elizabeth?” cried the ambassador.

“Ay, Elizabeth,” echoed the earl passionately, “with, or without a throne, she would be equally dear to me.”

“You shall have her and the crown as well,” replied De Noailles.

“I care not for the latter, provided I can obtain the former,” returned the earl.

“One is dependent upon the other,” rejoined De Noailles. “While Mary reigns, you must give up all hopes of Elizabeth.”

“It is that conviction alone that induces me to take part in the conspiracy,” sighed Courtenay. “I am neither ambitious to rule this kingdom, nor to supplant Philip of Spain. But I would risk fortune, title, life itself, for Elizabeth.”

“I know it,” ejaculated De Noailles to himself, “and therefore I hold her out as a lure to you, weak, wavering fool! I will use you as far as I find necessary, but no further. Rash and harebrained as he is, Lord Guilford Dudley would make the better leader, and is the more likely to succeed. Jane’s party is hourly gaining strength. Well, well, I care not who wins the day, provided I foil Renard, and that I will do at any cost.”

“A thousand marks that I read your excellency’s thoughts!” cried a martial-looking personage, approaching them. He was attired in a coat of mail, with quilted sleeves, a velvet cassock, cuisses, and buff boots drawn up above the knee; and carried in his hand a black velvet cap, ornamented with broad bone-work lace. His arms were rapier and dagger, both of the largest size. “Is the wager accepted?” he added, taking the ambassador’s arm within his own, and drawing him aside.

“My thoughts are easily guessed, Sir Thomas Wyat,” replied De Noailles, “I am thinking how prosperously all goes for us.”

“Right,” rejoined Wyat; “out of that large assemblage three only are favourable to the imperialists. If you approve it, I will myself – though not a member of the council – answer Gardiner’s speech, and tell him we will not suffer this hateful alliance to take place.”

“That were unwise,” rejoined De Noailles, “do not meddle in the matter. It will only attract suspicion towards us.”

“I care not if it does,” replied Wyat; “we are all ready and sure of support. I will go further, if need be, and add, if the queen weds not Courtenay, a general insurrection will follow.”

“Courtenay will never wed the queen,” observed the earl, who had followed them, and overheard the remark.

“How?” exclaimed Wyat, in surprise.

“No more at present,” interposed De Noailles, hastily. “Renard’s eyes are upon us.”;

“What if they are?” cried Wyat, glancing fiercely in the direction of the imperial ambassador. “His looks – basilisk though they be – have no power to strike us dead. Oh that I had an opportunity of measuring swords with him! He should soon perceive the love I bear his prince and him.”

“I share in your hatred towards him,” observed Courtenay. “The favour Mary shows him proves the ascendancy he has obtained over her.”

“If he retains his power, farewell to the liberty of Englishmen,” rejoined Wyat; “we shall become as abject as the Flemings. But I, for one, will never submit to the yoke of Spain.”

“Not so loud!” cried De Noailles, checking him. “You will effectually destroy our scheme. Renard only seeks some plea to attack us. Have a moment’s patience, and some one not connected with the plot will take the responsibility upon himself.”

The prudence of the ambassador’s counsel was speedily exemplified. While the conversation above related occurred, a few words passed between the principal members of the council, and the heads of the civic authorities, and, at their instance, the Earl of Pembroke stepped forward.

“We are aware, my lord,” he said, addressing Gardiner, “that we ought on the present occasion, to signify our approval of the queen’s choice – to offer her our heartfelt congratulations – our prayers for her happiness. But we shall not seek to disguise our sentiments. We do not approve this match; and we have heard your lordship’s communication with pain – with sorrow – with displeasure – displeasure, that designing counsellors should have prevailed upon her highness to take a step fatal to her own happiness, and to the welfare of her kingdom. Our solicitations are, therefore – and we earnestly entreat your lordship to represent them to her majesty, that she will break off this engagement, and espouse some English nobleman. And we further implore of her to dismiss from her councils the imperial ambassador, M. Simon Renard, by whose instrumentality this match has been contrived, and whose influence we conceive to be prejudicial to the interests of our country.”

“You do me wrong, Lord Pembroke,” replied Renard; “and I appeal to the lord chancellor, whether, in negotiating this treaty, I have made any demands on the part of my sovereign calculated to detract from the power or authority of yours.”

“On the contrary,” replied Gardiner, “your excellency has conceded more than we had any right to expect.”

“And more than my brother-ambassadors deemed fitting,” rejoined Renard. “But I do not repent what I have done, – well knowing how anxious the emperor Charles the Fifth is to unite his son to so wise, so excellent, and so religious a princess as the queen of this realm, and that no sacrifice could be too great to insure him her hand.”

“I am bound to add that your excellency has advanced nothing but the truth,” acquiesced Gardiner; “and though, at first, as is well known to Lord Pembroke and others of the council, I was as averse to the match as he or they could be, I am now its warmest advocate. But I will not prolong the discussion. Her highness’s word is passed to the prince – the contract signed – the treaty concluded. Your remonstrances, therefore, are too late. And if you will suffer me to point out to you the only course that can with propriety be pursued, I would urge you to offer her majesty your loyal congratulations on her choice – to prepare to receive her consort in the manner she has directed – and to watch over the interests of your country so carefully, that the evils you dread may never arise.”

“If my solemn assurance will satisfy the Earl of Pembroke and the other honourable persons here present,” remarked Renard, “I will declare, in the prince my master’s name, that he has not the remotest intention of interfering with the government of this country – of engaging it in any war – or of placing his followers in any office or post of authority.”

“Whatever may be the prince’s intentions,” rejoined Gardiner, “he is precluded by the treaty from acting upon them. At the same time, it is but right to add, that these terms were not wrung from his ambassador, but voluntarily proposed by him.”

“They will never be adhered to,” cried Sir Thomas Wyat, stepping forward, and facing Renard, whom he regarded with a look of defiance.

“Do you dare to question my word, sir?” exclaimed Renard.

“I do,” replied Wyat, sternly. “And let no Englishman put faith in one of your nation, or he will repent his folly. I am a loyal subject of the queen, and would shed my heart’s blood in her defence. But I am also a lover of my country, and will never surrender her to the domination of Spain!”

“Sir Thomas Wyat,” rejoined Gardiner, “you are well known as one of the queen’s bravest soldiers; and it is well you are so, or your temerity would place you in peril.”

“I care not what the consequences are to myself, my lord,” replied Wyat, “if the queen will listen to my warning. It is useless to proceed further with this match. The nation will never suffer it to take place; nor will the prince be allowed to set foot upon our shores.”

“These are bold words, Sir Thomas,” observed Gardiner, suspiciously. “Whence do you draw your conclusions?”

“From sure premises, my lord,” answered Wyat, “the very loyalty entertained by her subjects towards the queen makes them resolute not to permit her to sacrifice herself. They have not forgotten the harsh treatment experienced by Philip’s first wife, Maria of Portugal. Hear me, my lord chancellor, and report what I say to her highness. If this match is persisted in, a general insurrection will follow.”

“This is a mere pretext for some rebellious design, Sir Thomas,” replied Gardiner, sternly. “Sedition ever masks itself under the garb of loyalty. Take heed, sir. Your actions shall be strictly watched, and if aught occurs to confirm my suspicions, I shall deem it my duty to recommend her majesty to place you in arrest.”

“Wyat’s rashness will destroy us,” whispered De Noailles to Courtenay.

“Before we separate, my lords,” observed Renard, “I think it right to make known to you that the emperor, deeming it inconsistent with the dignity of so mighty a queen as your sovereign to wed beneath her own rank, is about to resign the crown of Naples and the dukedom of Milan to his son, prior to the auspicious event.”

A slight murmur of applause arose from the council at this announcement.

“You hear that,” cried the Earl of Arundel. “Can you longer hesitate to congratulate the queen on her union?”

The earl was warmly seconded by Paget and Rochester, but no other voice joined them.

“The sense of the assembly is against it,” observed the Earl of Pembroke.

“I am amazed at your conduct, my lords,” cried Gardiner, angrily. “You deny your sovereign the right freely accorded to the meanest of her subjects – the right to choose for herself a husband. For shame! – for shame! Your sense of justice, if not your loyalty, should prompt you to act differently. The prince of Spain has been termed a stranger to this country, whereas his august sire is not merely the queen’s cousin, but the oldest ally of the crown. So far from the alliance being disadvantageous, it is highly profitable, ensuring, as it does, the emperor’s aid against our constant enemies the Scots and the French. Of the truth of this you may judge by the opposition it has met with, overt and secret, from the ambassador of the King of France. But without enlarging upon the advantages of the union, which must be sufficiently apparent to you all, I shall content myself with stating that it is not your province to dictate to the queen whom she shall marry, or whom she shall not marry, but humbly to acquiesce in her choice. Her majesty, in her exceeding goodness, has thought fit to lay before you – a step altogether needless – the conditions of her union. It pains me to say you have received her condescension in a most unbecoming manner. I trust, however, a better feeling has arisen among you, and that you will now enable me to report you, as I desire, to her highness.”

The only assenting voices were those of three lords constituting the imperial party in the council.

Having waited for a short time, Gardiner bowed gravely, and dismissed the assemblage.

As he was about to quit the presence-chamber, he perceived Courtenay standing in a pensive attitude in the embrasure of a window. Apparently, the room was entirely deserted, except by the two ushers, who, with white wands in their hands, were stationed on either side of the door. It suddenly occurred to Gardiner that this would be a favourable opportunity to question the Earl respecting the schemes in which he more than suspected he was a party, and he accordingly advanced towards him.

“You have heard the reception which the announcement of her majesty’s marriage has met with,” he said. “I will frankly own to you it would have been far more agreeable to me to have named your lordship to them. And you have to thank yourself that such has not been the case.”

“True,” replied Courtenay, raising his eyes, and fixing them upon the speaker. “But I have found love more powerful than ambition.”

“And do you yet love Elizabeth?” demanded Gardiner, with a slight sneer. “Is it possible that an attachment can endure with your lordship longer than a month?”

“I never loved till I loved her,” sighed Courtenay.

“Be that as it may, you must abandon her,” returned the chancellor. “The queen will not consent to your union.”

“Your lordship has just observed, in your address to the council,” rejoined Courtenay, “that it is the privilege of all – even of the meanest – to choose in marriage whom they will. Since her highness would exert this right in her own favour, why deny it to her sister?”

“Because her sister has robbed her of her lover,” replied Gardiner. “Strong-minded as she is, Mary is not without some of the weaknesses of her sex. She could not bear to witness the happiness of a rival.”

Courtenay smiled.

“I understand your meaning, my lord,” pursued Gardiner sternly; “but if you disobey the queen’s injunctions in this particular, you will lose your head, and so will the princess.”

“The queen’s own situation is fraught with more peril than mine,” replied Courtenay. “If she persists in her match with the prince of Spain, she will lose her crown, and then who shall prevent my wedding Elizabeth?”

Gardiner looked at him as he said this so fixedly, that the earl involuntarily cast down his eyes.

“Your words and manner, my lord,” observed the chancellor, after a pause, “convince me that you are implicated in a conspiracy, known to be forming against the queen.”

“My lord!” cried Courtenay.

“Do not interrupt me,” continued Gardiner, – “the conduct of the council to-day, the menaces of Sir Thomas Wyat, your own words, convince me that decided measures must be taken. I shall therefore place you in arrest. And this time, rest assured, care shall be taken that you do not escape.”

Courtenay laid his hand upon his sword, and looked uneasily at the door.

“Resistance will be in vain, my lord,” pursued Gardiner; “I have but to raise my voice, and the guard will immediately appear.”

“You do not mean to execute your threats, my lord?” rejoined Courtenay.

“I have no alternative,” returned Gardiner, “unless by revealing to me all you know respecting this conspiracy, you will enable me to crush it. Not to keep you longer in the dark, I will tell you that proofs are already before us of your connection with the plot. The dwarf Xit, employed by M. de Noailles to convey messages to you, and who assisted in your escape, has, under threat of torture, made a full confession. From him we have learnt that a guitar, containing a key to the cipher to be used in a secret correspondence, was sent to Elizabeth by the ambassador. The instrument has been found in the princess’s possession at Ashbridge, and has furnished a clue to several of your own letters to her, which we have intercepted. Moreover some of the French ambassador’s agents, under the disguise of Huguenot preachers, have been arrested, and have revealed his treasonable designs. Having thus fairly told you the nature and extent of the evidence against you, I would recommend you to plead guilty, and throw yourself upon the queen’s mercy.”

“If you are satisfied with the information you have obtained, my lord,” returned Courtenay, “you can require nothing further from me.”

“Yes! – the names of your associates,” rejoined Gardiner.

“The rack should not induce me to betray them,” replied Courtenay.

“But a more persuasive engine may,” rejoined the chancellor. “What if I offer you Elizabeth’s hand provided you will give up all concerned in this plot?”

“I reject it,” replied the earl, struggling between his sense of duty and passion.

“Then I must call the guard,” returned the chancellor.

“Hold!” cried Courtenay, “I would barter my soul to the enemy of mankind to possess Elizabeth. Swear to me she shall be mine, and I will reveal all.”

Gardiner gave the required pledge.

“Yet if I confess, I shall sign my own condemnation, and that of the princess,” hesitated Courtenay.

“Not so,” rejoined the chancellor. “In the last session of parliament it was enacted, that those only should suffer death for treason, who had assisted at its commission, either by taking arms themselves, or aiding directly and personally those who had taken them. Such as have simply known or approved the crime are excepted – and your case is among the latter class. But do not let us tarry here. Come with me to my cabinet, and I will resolve all your scruples.”

“And you will ensure me the hand of the princess?” said Courtenay.

“Undoubtedly,” answered Gardiner. “Have I not sworn it?”

And they quitted the presence-chamber.

No sooner were they gone, than two persons stepped from behind the arras where they had remained concealed during the foregoing conversation. They were De Noailles and Sir Thomas Wyat.

“Perfidious villain!” cried the latter, “I breathe more freely since he is gone. I had great difficulty in preventing myself from stabbing him on the spot.”

“It would have been a useless waste of blood,” replied De Noailles. “It was fortunate that I induced you to listen to their conversation. We must instantly provide for our own safety, and that of our friends. The insurrection must no longer be delayed.”

“It shall not be delayed an hour,” replied Wyat. “I have six thousand followers in Kent, who only require to see my banner displayed to flock round it. Captain Bret and his company of London trainbands are eagerly expecting our rising. Throckmorton will watch over the proceedings in the city. Vice-Admiral Winter, with his squadron of seven sail, now in the river, under orders to escort Philip of Spain, will furnish us with ordnance and ammunition; and, if need be, with the crews under his command.”

“Nothing can be better,” replied De Noailles. “We must get the Duke of Suffolk out of the Tower, and hasten to Lord Guilford Dudley, with whom some plan must be instantly concerted. Sir Peter Carew must start forthwith for Devonshire, – Sir James Croft for Wales. Your destination is Kent. If Courtenay had not proved a traitor, we would have placed him on the throne. As it is, my advice is, that neither Elizabeth nor Jane should be proclaimed, but Mary Stuart.”

“There the policy of France peeps out,” replied Wyat. “But I will proclaim none of them. We will compel the queen to give up this match, and drive the Spaniard from our shores.”

“As you will,” replied De Noailles, hastily. “Do not let us remain longer here, or it maybe impossible to quit the fortress.”

With this, they left the palace, and seeking the Duke of Suffolk, contrived to mix him up among their attendants, and so to elude the vigilance of the warders. As soon as they were out of the Tower, Sir Thomas Wyat embarked in a wherry, manned by four rowers, and took the direction of Gravesend. De Noailles and the Duke of Suffolk hastened to Sion House, where they found Lord Guilford Dudley seated with Jane and Cholmondeley. On their appearance, Dudley started to his feet, and exclaimed, “We are betrayed!”

“We are,” replied De Noailles. “Courtenay has played the traitor. But this is of no moment, as his assistance would have been of little avail, and his pretensions to the crown might have interfered with the rights of your consort. Sir Thomas Wyat has set out for Kent. We must collect all the force we can, and retire to some place of concealment till his messengers arrive with intelligence that he is marching towards London. We mean to besiege the Tower, and secure the queen’s person.”

“Dudley,” cried Jane, “if you have one spark of honour, gratitude, or loyalty left, you will take no part in this insurrection.”

“Mary is no longer queen,” replied her husband, bending the knee before her. “To you, Jane, belongs that title; and it will be for you to decide whether she shall live or not.”

“The battle is not yet won,” observed the Duke of Suffolk. “Let us obtain the crown before we pass sentence on those who have usurped it.”

“The lady Jane must accompany us,” whispered De Noailles to Dudley. “If she falls into the hands of our enemies, she may be used as a formidable weapon against us.”

“My lord,” cried Jane, kneeling to the Duke of Suffolk; “if my supplications fail to move my husband, do not you turn a deaf car to them. Believe me, this plot will totally fail, and conduct us all to the scaffold.”

“The duke cannot retreat if he would, madam,” interposed Do Noailles. “Courtenay has betrayed us all to Gardiner, and ere now I doubt not officers are despatched to arrest us.”

“Jane, you must come with us,” cried Dudley.

“Never,” she replied, rising. “I will not stir from this spot. I implore you and my father to remain here likewise, and submit yourselves to the mercy of the queen.”

“And do you think such conduct befitting the son of the great Duke of Northumberland?” replied Dudley. “No, madam, the die is cast. My course is taken. You must come with us. There is no time for preparation. M. De Noailles, I place myself entirely in your hands. Let horses be brought round instantly,” he added, turning to his esquire.

“They shall be at the gate almost before you can reach it, my lord,” returned Cholmondeley. “There are several ready-saddled within the stables.”

“It is well,” replied Dudley.

And the esquire departed.

“Father, dear father,” cried Jane, “you will not go. You will not leave me.”

But the duke averted his gaze from her, and rushed out of the room.

De Noailles made a significant gesture to Dudley, and followed him.

“Jane,” cried Dudley, taking her hand, “I entreat – nay command you – to accompany me.”

“Dudley,” she replied, “I cannot – will not – obey you in this. If I could, I would detain you. But as I cannot, I will take no part in your criminal designs.”

“Farewell for ever, then,” rejoined Dudley, breaking from her. “Since you abandon me in this extremity, and throw off my authority, I shall no longer consider myself bound to you by any ties.”

“Stay!” replied Jane. “You overturn all my good resolutions. I am no longer what I was. I cannot part thus.”

“I knew it,” replied Dudley, straining her to his bosom. “You will go with me.”

“I will,” replied Jane, “since you will have it so.”

“Come, then,” cried Dudley, taking her hand, and leading her towards the door – “to the throne!”

“No,” replied Jane, sadly – “to the scaffold!”