“Gone about to strengthen himself,” answered Mr Underhill. “He is coming back, take my word for it. He said unto his soldiers that he would pay them the next time in Cheapside; and unto the men that held the bridge quoth he,—‘Twice have I knocked, and not been suffered to enter; if I knock the third time I will come in, by God’s grace!’”
“What did you at the Court?” said Dr Thorpe. “Is good watch kept?”
Mr Underhill laughed.
“Marry, I did nothing,” said he, “for I was not suffered. I put on mine harness, and went up into the Queen’s chamber of presence, where were all her women weeping and wringing their hands, like foolish fluttering birds, and crying they should all be destroyed that night. And then Mr Norris, the Queen’s chief usher, which was appointed to call the watch, read over the names from the book which Moore (the clerk of our check) gave him; but no sooner came he to my name than quoth he,—‘What! what doth he here?’—‘Sir,’ saith the clerk, ‘he is here ready to serve as the rest be.’—‘Nay!’ saith he, and sware a great oath, ‘that heretic shall not watch here! give me a pen.’ And so strake my name off the book. So Moore cometh to me, and ‘Mr Underhill,’ saith he, ‘you are not to watch; you may depart to your lodging.’—‘May I?’ said I; ‘I would be glad of that,’—thinking I had been favoured because I was not recovered of my sickness; but I did not well trust him, because he was also a Papist. ‘Marry, I depart indeed,’ said I; ‘will you be my discharge?’—‘I tell you true,’ said he, ‘Mr Norris hath stricken you out of the book, saying these words—That heretic shall not watch here: I tell you true what he said.’—‘Marry, I thank him,’ said I, ‘and you also; you could not do me a greater pleasure.’—‘Nay, burden not me withal,’ said he, ‘it is not my doing.’ So away went I, with my men and a link. And when I come to the Court gate, I fell in with Mr Clement Throgmorton (that was come post from Coventry to the Queen with tidings of the taking of the Duke of Suffolk) and George Ferris,—both my friends, and good Protestants. So away went we three to Ludgate, which was fast locked, for it was past eleven of the clock, and the watch set within, but none without. And lo’ you, for all our calling, and declaring of our names, and the like, would they not open the gate. Mr Throgmorton cried to them that he would go to his lodging within, and Mr Ferris said he was sent with weighty affairs to my Lord Will Howard within: but they did nought but laugh, and at long last said they had not the keys. ‘What shall I do?’ said Mr Throgmorton; ‘I am weary and faint, and I wax now cold. I am not acquainted hereabout, nor no man dare open his doors in this dangerous time, nor I am not able to go back again to the Court; I shall perish this night.’—‘Well,’ said I, ‘let us go to Newgate; I think I shall get in there.’—‘Tush!’ said he, ‘it is but in vain; we shall be answered there as we are here.’—‘Well,’ said I, ‘and the worst fall, I can lodge ye in Newgate: you know what acquaintance I have there, and the keeper’s door is without the gate.’—‘That were a bad shift!’ said he; ‘I had almost as lief die in the streets; yet I will rather wander again to the Court.’ Howbeit, I did persuade them to try at Newgate; and there found we my friend Newman to be constable of the watch, which saith, ‘Mr Underhill! what news, that you walk so late?’ So he let us through the gate with a good will, and at long last we reached each man to his lodging.”
At four o’clock on the morning of Ash Wednesday, London was awoke by drums beating all through the streets of the city. John and Robin rose hastily, and went out to ascertain the cause. They came in shortly, saying that the drums beat for all soldiers to arm and repair to Charing Cross, for that Wyatt was seeking to come in by Westminster, and had reached as far as Brentford. About one or two o’clock, Wyatt came, and marched past Charing Cross, without hindrance (except that as he passed Saint James’s the Earl of Pembroke fell upon his rear), and so marched along the Strand, and up Fleet Street, until he came before Ludgate. There they knocked to come in, falsely saying that the Queen had granted their request and pardoned them; but Lord William Howard was not to be thus deceived, as others had been on the way. His answer was a stern cry of “Avaunt, traitor! thou shalt not come in here.” For a little while Wyatt rested upon a seat at the Belle Sauvage gate; but at last, being weary of this pastime, he turned back on Charing Cross. When he reached Temple Bar the Queen’s horsemen met him, and the battle began. When he saw the fight going against him, Wyatt yielded. And so Sir Maurice Berkeley and others brought him and his chief captains to Court, and at five o’clock they were taken to the Tower by water. And as they passed in, Sir John Bridges, the Lieutenant, ungenerously upbraided the prisoner, saying that “if it were not that the law must justly pass upon him, he would strike him with his dagger.” To whom Wyatt answered, “with a grim and grievous look”—“It were no mastery now.” And so they passed on.
Thus was Wyatt’s rebellion quashed. The stars in their courses fought against him.
Note 1. In addition to his cruel persecution of the Gospellers, he had been a notorious libertine.
Note 2. Cott. Ms., Appendix, twenty-eight, folio 93, 94.—Miss Strickland says (Lives of the Queens, three, page 459), that this was Mary, wife of James Basset; but the Tallies Roll for 2-3 Philip et Mary distinctly names this lady as one of Queen Mary’s maids of honour, in recording the payment of her pension—“Anna Basset, virginis Reginae.”
Note 3. Harl. Ms. 425, folio 92, 93.