The queen raised herself more proudly, and her defiant look ran over the whole assembly.
“The man,” said she, solemnly, “who was with me on that night—he is named—”
“He is named John Heywood!” said this individual; as he seriously and proudly walked forward from behind the king’s throne. “Yes, Henry, your brother, the fool John Heywood, had on that night the proud honor of accompanying your consort on her holy errand; but, I assure you, that he was less like the king, than the king is just now like the fool.”
A murmur of surprise ran through the assembly. The king leaned back in his royal seat speechless. “And now, King Henry,” said Catharine, calmly—“now I will tell you whither I went with John Heywood on that night.”
She was silent, and for a moment leaned back on her seat. She felt that the looks of all were directed to her; she heard the king’s wrathful groan; she felt her lover’s flashing, reproachful glances; she saw the derisive smile of those haughty ladies, who had never forgiven her—that she, from a simple baroness, had become queen. But all this made her only still bolder and more courageous.
She had arrived at the turning-point of her life, where she must risk everything to avoid sinking into the abyss.
But Lady Jane also had arrived at such a decisive moment of her existence. She, too, said to herself: “I must at this hour risk all, if I do not want to lose all.” She saw Henry Howard’s pale, expectant face. She knew, if the queen now spoke, the whole web of their conspiracy would be revealed to him.
She must, therefore, anticipate the queen. She must warn Henry Howard.
“Fear nothing!” whispered she to him. “We were prepared for that. I have put into her hands the means of escape!”
“Will you now at last speak?” exclaimed the king, quivering with impatience and rage. “Will you at last tell us where you were on that night?”