how constance tyrrell was brought before the
queen in the lollards’ tower.
preceded by rodomont bittern and others of the guard, and attended by the cardinal, their majesties crossed the court to the lollards’ tower. as the queen was slowly ascending the steps leading to the entrance, a sudden faintness seized her, and she paused.
“better turn back, gracious madam, if you feel ill,” observed the cardinal, noticing her extreme paleness.
“no, it will pass in a moment,” she replied.
resolved not to give way, she went on; but the effort was too much for her, and she had no sooner gained the post room than she sank on a chair completely exhausted.
“what place is this?” she asked, in a feeble voice, and glancing around.
“it is called the post room, madam, from that wooden pillar in the centre,” replied pole.
“it looks like a torture-chamber,” observed philip.
“it has been put to a similar purpose, i fear,” said the cardinal. “yon pillar has not served merely to support the roof.”
“where is constance tyrrell?” demanded mary.
“in the prison-chamber overhead,” replied pole. “the staircase is steep and difficult. ’twould be hazardous to your majesty to mount it.”
“let her be brought down,” said the queen.
219upon this, rodomont bittern, who, with simon mallet, keeper of the tower, stood waiting for orders, immediately disappeared through an arched doorway at the further end of the sombre apartment. shortly afterwards they returned, bringing with them constance tyrrell. this done, they retired.
constance looked thin and pale, but her colour heightened as she beheld philip seated near the queen. the blush, however, quickly faded away, and was succeeded by a death-like pallor, but she did not lose her self-possession. advancing towards her, the cardinal said, in a low tone,—
“kneel to her majesty. peradventure, you may move her compassion.”
constance did as she was bidden, and threw herself at the queen’s feet, crying,—
“if i have offended your majesty, i implore your forgiveness.”
“what have i to forgive you, minion?—what have you done?” said mary, fixing a searching look upon her. “i know nothing of your proceedings since you fled from hampton court. where have you hidden yourself? why were you brought here? speak!”
“it is a long story to tell, madam,” cried constance, troubled by the stern gaze of the king.
“on peril of your life, i command you to conceal nothing from me!” cried mary, with a burst of uncontrollable fury. “confess your guilt, or i will wrest the avowal of it from you by torture. speak out, and you have nothing to fear—but hesitate, equivocate, palter with me, and you are lost.”
“as i hope for salvation, madam,” rejoined constance, “i have nothing to confess.”
“it is false!” cried the queen, with increasing fury. “i read your guilt in your looks. you cannot regard me in the face, and declare you have not injured me.”
“i can look heaven itself in the face, and declare i am innocent of all offence towards your majesty,” rejoined constance.
“the king, no doubt, will confirm your assertions,” observed mary, bitterly.
“if i did not, i should belie the truth,” replied philip.
220“by whose contrivance did you fly from hampton court?” demanded mary.
“not by the king’s, madam. i fled with osbert clinton.”
“tut! osbert clinton was merely a tool,” exclaimed mary, incredulously. “did his majesty know of your hiding-place?”
“assuredly not, madam,” replied constance. “he it was i dreaded most.”
“ha! we are coming to it now,” cried mary. “why did you dread him?”
“nay, madam, persist not in these inquiries, i entreat you,” interposed the cardinal. “you will gain nothing by them, and will only torture yourself.”
“though each word should wound me to the quick, i will have it,” said mary. “why did you fear the king?”
“oh! bid me not answer that question, madam—i cannot do it.”
“i will answer it for you,” said mary. “contradict me if you can. you thought that the king loved you, and would pursue you.”
“if she believed so, her flight was justifiable, and merits not reproach from your majesty,” observed the cardinal. “pardon me if i say you are unjust towards this maiden. i am satisfied you have no real ground of complaint against her.”
“at least, she has been the cause of much trouble to me,” cried mary.
“the innocent cause,” said pole.
“ay, truly so,” said constance. “i have never wronged your majesty in act or thought. beset by dangers, i fled from them, and, if i did wrong, it was from error in judgment, and not from ill intent. had i stayed——but i will not dwell upon what might have happened. your majesty’s reproaches cut me to the soul. i do not deserve them. rather, indeed, am i an object of pity than reproach. six months ago i was happy. my life was unclouded—but a change came suddenly, and since then all has been darkness and misery.”
“you could not expect happiness, since you have fallen from your faith,” said the queen, severely. “you have 221justly provoked the wrath of heaven, and cannot wonder that you have felt the effects of its displeasure. from what you have said, and from what his eminence has urged in your behalf, i do not believe you have been culpable towards me. but you have cost me many a pang,” she added, placing her hand upon her breast.
“yield to the pitying emotions which i can see sway your breast, gracious madam,” interceded pole, “and forgive her.”
“for the affliction she has caused i do forgive her,” replied the queen, with an effort; “but if her conduct towards myself is free from blame, as you represent it, in other respects it is reprehensible. she was nurtured in the true faith, and was once a model of piety—nay, even contemplated devoting herself to a religious life. but she has listened to the baneful exhortations of one of these teachers of heresy, and has become a proselyte to the new doctrines. what shall be done with her?”
“leave her to me, madam,” rejoined the cardinal. “i do not despair of accomplishing her cure. my hand shall lead you back,” he added to constance. “my voice shall direct you. it cannot be that one of a devout nature like yourself, imbued from childhood in the principles of our holy church, familiar with its rites and worship, can efface its doctrines from your breast, and abandon them for another creed. your conscience must be troubled. the sure way to regain serenity is to abjure your errors.”
“time was when every word uttered by your eminence would have found a response in my breast,” rejoined constance. “but the rites i formerly practised seem to me idolatrous, and the doctrines then taught me unwarranted by the gospel. i cannot go back to the faith of rome.”
“you shall be forced back, mistress, if you continue perverse,” cried the queen, sharply.
“hold, madam!” exclaimed pole. “in this instance let me have my way. i would win back this maiden by gentleness, and not by coercion. i would appeal to her reason and judgment, and not to her fears. her cure may be the work of time, because the disorder under which she labours is obstinate, but i do not think it will baffle my skill.”
“if i could be persuaded by anyone to return to the faith i have abjured, it would be by your eminence,” said constance, yielding to the kindly influence of his manner.
“you see, madam, i have already made some little impression,” observed pole to the queen. “mildness is more efficacious than violence. as she was enticed from the fold, so must she be lured back to it.”
“well, have your way with her,” replied mary. “where is the other prisoner, derrick carver?”
“in a dungeon beneath this room,” replied pole. “he was placed there in order that no communication should take place between him and constance tyrrell. they have not seen each other since they were brought to the lollards’ tower.”
“such were my orders,” observed philip.
“it is well,” rejoined the queen. “they shall see each other now. let him be brought before me.”
