Elizabeth came to the palace, but Mary refused to meet her.
“Bear this ring to her Majesty,” commanded the princess. It was much the custom in those days for one friend to give another a ring whose sight should renew their friendship if misunderstanding had arisen between them, and Elizabeth wore one that had been given her by Mary long before. The pledge had lost its power, for Mary sent only the message, “Before we can meet, you must show your innocence of that of which you are accused.”
Day after day it was debated what should be done with the princess. Although just before Wyatt’s death he had taken back his words of accusation, the royal council still suspected her. Charles V. was more than willing that she should be put to death, and the Spanish ambassador told Mary that until the punishment of the rebels had made the realm safe for Philip, he could not land on English soil. “It is most important,” said he, “that the trial and execution of the Lady Elizabeth should take place before the arrival of the prince.”
One morning ten of the royal commissioners demanded audience of Elizabeth.
“Your Grace,” said the leader, “a grievous charge is made against you, that you were knowing to an evil and felonious attempt to overthrow the government and take the life of our most gracious queen. It is the pleasure of her Highness that you be at once removed to the Tower.”
“I am an innocent woman,” Elizabeth answered, “and I trust that her Majesty will be far more gracious than to commit to the Tower one who has never offended her in thought, word, or deed. I beg you intercede for me with the queen.”
The intercession was of no avail. Elizabeth sent a letter to Mary denying all charges and begging that they might meet, but the only reply was the order, “Your Grace must away to the Tower.”
“I am content, inasmuch as it is the queen’s pleasure,” Elizabeth replied, and the carefully guarded boat set off. It drew up, not at the door which led to the royal apartments of the Tower, but at the one called the Traitors’ Gate, where many a prisoner had been landed in the past troublous times.
“I am no traitor,” said she, “nor will I go in at the Traitors’ Gate.”
“Madam, there is no choice,” answered sternly one of the commissioners, but he added kindly, “The rain falls in torrents, will your Grace honor me by making use of my cloak?” Elizabeth flung it down angrily, and put her foot on the step, covered with water as it was.