“Be not afraid to speak out, daughter,” cried Derrick Carver. “Truly you have profited by my exhortations.”
“I will never forsake my opinions,” cried Constance, firmly, “but will maintain them at any tribunal before which I may be brought. After this declaration and confession, your Majesty must send me with the other prisoners.”
“You have indeed put it out of my power to befriend you,” rejoined Philip, angrily. “Since you ask to be brought before a religious tribunal, you shall have your wish.”
“I have succeeded in my design,” whispered Constance to Osbert. “I shall not be separated from you. Your Majesty has conferred a boon upon me by this decision,” she added to the King, “and I humbly thank you for it. Now, Sir,” to Rodomont, “you can take me to the Tower with my friends.”
“Is such your Majesty’s pleasure?” demanded Rodomont.
“No,” replied Philip. “Let her be conveyed to some place of imprisonment, but not to the Tower.”
“An please your Majesty, there is the Lollards’ Tower at Lambeth Palace, where heretics are oft confined,” observed Rodomont. “No better prison lodgings can be found than the cells therein.”
“Are the cells strong and secure?” demanded the King.
“Marry, as strong and secure as the dungeons of the Tower, Sire,” replied Rodomont.
“I have heard of those prison chambers in the Lollards’ Tower,” rejoined Philip, “but did not bethink me of them at the moment. Take Mistress Constance Tyrrell forthwith to Lambeth Palace, and see her safely bestowed—safely, I say, but with all comfort and convenience that the prison will admit of—d’ye heed? Take Derrick Carver also thither, and let him be securely lodged. The ecclesiastical court shall deal with him. No intercourse whatever must be allowed between the prisoners.”