As the insurgents approached Lambeth Palace, it was evident from the lights gleaming from the windows, and the sounds heard from the courts, that its inmates were alarmed and astir.
In another moment the little squadron reached the wharf. Osbert was the first to land, and leaped ashore sword in hand. Udal and Rufford followed him, but such expedition was used that only a few minutes elapsed before the whole party had disembarked.
Meantime, their movements were watched from the battlements of the gateway by Rodomont Bittern and his two lieutenants. As soon as the insurgents had landed, and were drawn up, Osbert marched at their head towards the gateway, but before he reached it, Rodomont called out in a loud voice:—
“Who are ye, Sirs, and what seek ye, that ye approach the palace of the Lord Cardinal in this hostile fashion? State your business without parleying, that I may report it to his Eminence. But I warn you that you can have no admittance at this hour.”
“We will obtain admittance for ourselves if our request be refused,” replied Osbert. “We require Constance Tyrrell and Derrick Carver, both detained within the palace, to be delivered up to us.”
“By whose warrant do you make this demand?” inquired Rodomont.
“By mine own,” replied the other, “which thus backed, shall answer as well as any other, were it even the Queen’s.”
“None but her Majesty’s own order will procure their liberation,” rejoined Rodomont; “and since you possess not that, you are likely to go away empty-handed. Though I would fain disbelieve it, methinks it is Master Osbert Clinton who speaks to me.”
“I am he you suppose,” replied Osbert. “Use dispatch, good Rodomont, and convey my message to the Lord Cardinal.”
“If you are turned rebel, as I suspect from the tone you adopt, and the armed rout at your heels,” rejoined Rodomont, “I must pray you to cease all familiarity with me. But I will make your demand known to the Lord Cardinal.”