Dudley advanced close to the king’s chair, and sinking to one knee, pressed his lips reverently to the slender hand which the royal youth extended with habitual courtsey, though a languid and deprecatory smile, rather than one of welcome, stole over his lip.
“My lord,” he said in a voice low and almost femininely sweet, “I am not well to-day, but if your good father recommends that we remove to Windsor, let the household be prepared; he is the best judge, though in his strong health and great energy he does sometimes tax our weakness a thought too far with these sudden removals.”
Edward motioned the young nobleman to arise as he spoke, and when he still retained a kneeling posture, looked in his face with something of astonishment.
“My liege,” said Dudley in a respectful and low voice, “I did not come from my father. Alas, since he became Duke of Northumberland and Protector of this realm, there has been little of confidence between us. I have come to you, my liege, on a subject dear as my own life, one which I dare not again intrude upon him, though every feeling of friendship and honor should make him listen to my prayer.”
“Of what speak you?” said Edward apprehensively, while his large eyes wandered from the young nobleman’s face to other objects in the room, as if he would gladly have avoided any subject of interest, “of whom speak you—and of what?”
“I would speak, my liege, of the duke, your highness’ uncle, of his suffering wife and daughter, who now lie with him, prisoned within these very walls; I would claim that justice and clemency at your hands, which I have sought and knelt for in vain, at the feet of my own father.”
The king sank back into his chair, and passed his pale hand across his forehead, as if the subject were not only a painful one but not entirely comprehended in its full import.
“We know,” he said at length, “that our uncle has been found or thought guilty of many evil practices against the good people of our realm, and that our present able protector has seen it best to imprison him for a season; but we did not know that our noble aunt and sweet cousin Jane were the companions of his captivity. Pray, can you inform us, my good lord, how this all happened? Of what wrong has our sweet playmate and cousin been accused, that she too must be drawn from her home? His Grace of Northumberland forgets that the same blood which fills the veins of his king fills hers also; pray explain, my lord. We have no power to sift all the evil practices of our government, but even his grace, your father, must be careful how he deals with one of our mother’s house.”
The feeble youth became animated with a spirit which surprised Lord Dudley, as he uttered these words. A bright flush spread over his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled with the excitement which sprang both from disease and a resentful feeling, perhaps the most violent that ever visited his gentle heart. Naturally kind and most affectionate in his nature, he had always clung with fondness to those members of his family connected with his mother, and, since her birth, the Lady Jane had been his especial favorite. It therefore aroused all the strong feelings of royal pride in his heart to hear that a creature so pure and delicate had been, through an abuse of power, made the inmate of a prison. Nor was he better reconciled to the fact when Dudley informed him that it was through her own affectionate desire to mitigate the confinement of her persecuted parent that she had abandoned all to follow him. The youthful monarch was touched by an act of devotion such as his own heart would have prompted, and he questioned Lord Dudley regarding the arbitrary power by which the fallen protector had been imprisoned, with a degree of energy, and an evident determination to know the exact position of affairs, which astonished as much as it pleased the anxious nobleman.
Lord Dudley’s was a difficult and painful explanation. It was scarcely possible to place the proceedings against the Duke of Somerset in a favorable light before the young king, without in some degree exposing the conduct of his own parent to condemnation. Still he had entered the presence of his sovereign with a firm resolve to explain all, and throw himself and his hopes on the generosity of a mere boy, and an invalid, who had ever been completely controlled by his guardians, those guardians the very men whom he was called upon to brave. It was with faint hopes, that Dudley undertook this last appeal, when all other efforts to assist his friends failed, and when he had done speaking, when he saw the feeble youth lying back in his chair, pale and exhausted from the emotions which his narrative had excited, he felt almost condemned, that any motive could have induced him to disturb the repose of a being so fragile and sensitive.