Cardinal Pole; Or, The Days of Philip and Mary: An Historical Romance

by William Harrison Ainsworth

As Philip first set foot on English ground a thrill of exultation ran through his breast, but he allowed no outward manifestation of the feeling to escape him; but after a momentary halt, signified his desire to Osbert to enter the town.

The night was dark, but clear and perfectly calm. Behind, on the smooth sea, which reflected the stars shining brilliantly above, and the lights of the large lanterns hanging at the poops of the vessels, lay the “Santissima Trinidada,” with her scarcely less colossal companions beside her, looming like leviathans in the darkness. Here all seemed buried in repose, for no sound arose from the mighty ships, or from the squadron in their rear. But in front there was a strong light proceeding from a blazing barrel of pitch set on the top of the Water-gate, the flames of which, rising to a great height, illumined the battlements and keep of the castle, as well as the steeples of the churches and the roofs of the loftier buildings, casting a ruddy glare on the moat beneath, and making the adjacent walls and towers look perfectly black. Moreover, a loud hum, with other sounds arising from the interior of the town, showed that its inhabitants were still astir.

Traversing a drawbridge, near which another sentinel was stationed, Osbert and his royal companion speedily reached the Water-gate. Three or four halberdiers were standing beneath the archway, and advanced to question them, but satisfied with young Clinton’s explanation, one of them struck his pole against the massive door, whereupon a wicket was opened, and the pair entered the town.

They were now at the foot of English-street, with the principal features of which the reader is familiar. Active preparations of various kinds were here being made for the anticipated ceremonial of the morrow. Men were employed in decorating scaffolds erected near the gate, and other artificers were occupied in adorning the fronts of the houses. Though the hour was late, owing to the bustle of preparation, and the numerous strangers within the town, few of the inhabitants of this quarter had retired to rest. Festivities seemed to be going on in most of the houses. Lights streamed from the open casements, while joyous shouts, laughter, and strains of music resounded from within.

All was strange to Philip—the quaint and picturesque architecture of the habitations, the manners, and to some extent the very dresses of the people. But though he was amused by the novelty of the scene, the rudeness, noisy talk, boisterous merriment, and quarrels of the common folk, were by no means to his taste. Naturally, his own arrival in the harbour and expected disembarkation on the morrow formed the universal topics of discourse, and he heard remarks upon himself and his nation, such as he had not hitherto conceived that any one would venture to utter. Little did the heedless talkers imagine that the haughty-looking stranger, with his face closely muffled in his mantle, who passed them in the street, or lingered for a moment beneath a porch to watch their proceedings, was the Prince of Spain. Well was it, indeed, for Philip that he was not recognised, since there were some discontented folk abroad that night who might not have held his royal person sacred.

Philip took no notice of his opprobrious discourse to his conductor, who would fain have shut his ears to it, but he said within himself, “I begin to understand these people. They are insolent, audacious, and rebellious. Alva was right. They must be ruled with an iron hand.”

As he walked along, the Prince glanced through the open windows into the dining-chambers of some of the larger houses, and seeing the tables covered with flasks and flagons, and surrounded by guests, whose condition proclaimed that they had been drinking deeply, he inquired of Osbert whether his countrymen usually committed such excesses?

“They are somewhat prone to conviviality, I must admit,” replied the young man. “But joy at your Highness’s safe arrival has doubtless made them carouse longer than their wont to-night. Besides, there are many strangers in the town, and the hospitality of the Southampton merchants knows no limit.”

Whether this explanation was entirely satisfactory to the Prince may be doubted, but he made no further remark.

By this time, Philip and his conductor had arrived within a short distance of Holyrood Church. An arch had here been thrown across the street, which some young women were decorating with flowers and ribbons; while a knot of apprentices, in jerkins of grey or russet serge and flat caps, were superintending their operations, and holding torches for them.