In spite of the secrecy of their departure, it was discovered, and an attempt was made to capture them by some watermen, who in all probability would have succeeded, if they had not been driven off by the batteries of the fortress. Fortunately, the fugitives found a fleet of merchantmen, armed with a few guns, ready to sail for Antwerp; in one of which they embarked, and under cover of night, got safely down the river.
On the following morning, news was brought that Wyat was within a few miles of London; and it was added that his appearance before the walls of the fortress would be the signal for the rising of the citizens,—that the gates of the city would be thrown open to him, and perhaps those of the Tower itself. Every possible precaution was taken by Sir Henry Bedingfeld. He visited the whole line of ramparts and fortifications, and ascertained that all the men were at their posts, and in readiness, in case of a sudden attack. By his directions, the drawbridges on London Bridge were broken down—the craft moored on the Middlesex side of the river—the ferry-boats staved and sunk—and the bridges for fifteen miles up the river destroyed. While this was going on, Gardiner, seriously alarmed by the aspect of things, sought the queen’s presence, and endeavoured to persuade her to fly to France. But Mary, who, it has been more than once observed, inherited all the lion spirit of her father, and whose courage rose in proportion to the danger by which she was surrounded, at once, and disdainfully, rejected the proposal.
“My people may abandon me,” she said, “but I will never abandon them. I have no fear of the result of this struggle, being well assured I have plenty of loyal English hearts to serve and defend me. If need be, I will take up arms myself, and try the truth of this quarrel; for I would rather die with those who will stand by me, than yield one jot to such a traitor as Wyat.”
“Your majesty is in the right,” replied Renard, who was present on the occasion, “if you fly, all is lost. My counsel to you is to resort to the severest measures. Since Lady Jane Grey has disappeared, and you cannot avenge yourself upon her, let the Princess Elizabeth be brought from Ashbridge to the fortress, and on the appearance of Wyat, have a scaffold erected on the summit of Traitor’s Tower, and if the arch-rebel will not withdraw his forces, put her and Courtenay to death in his sight.”
“I like not your proposal, sir,” replied the queen, “I have no thirst for Courtenay’s blood. Nay, the love I once bore him would prevent my taking his life—and it should only be at the last extremity that I would deal severely with Elizabeth. Neither do I think your counsel politic. Such a course might answer in Spain, but not in England. It would only inflame still more the minds of the seditious, and excite them to a state of ungovernable fury.”
“You judge wisely, madam,” replied Gardiner. “Besides, I have made myself answerable for the safety of the Earl of Devonshire. The blow that falls upon his head, must strike mine also. Since your majesty, with a resolution worthy of the daughter of your great sire, decides on maintaining your ground against these rebels, I nothing fear for the result. Let the worst come to the worst, we can but die; and we will die fighting in your cause.”
“My lord,” rejoined the queen, after a moment’s reflection, “bid Sir Henry Bedingfeld, and the whole of the officers and men not required on duty on the ramparts, attend high mass within Saint John’s chapel an hour hence. You yourself will officiate with all the prelates and priesthood in the fortress. The service over, I shall repair to the council-chamber, where it is my purpose to address them.”
Gardiner bowed and retired to execute her commands, and the queen enjoining Renard’s attendance at the chapel, retired to her closet with her dames of honour.