“Yield you, Sir Thomas Wyat,” cried Magog, rushing up to the knight, who was borne to the ground with his slaughtered charger—“you are my prisoner.”
“Back, caitiff!” cried Wyat, disengaging himself and attacking the giant; “I will never yield with life.”
Wyat, however, would have been speedily captured by the giant, if Knevet, seeing his perilous situation, had not pressed forward with several others to his assistance, and rescued him. This accident, however, enabled the retreating party to pass beneath the archway of the By-ward Tower, the portcullis of which was instantly lowered.
Meanwhile, a body of the insurgents having taken possession of the Middle Tower, had planted themselves at the various loop-holes, and on the roof, and kept up a constant fire on the soldiers stationed on the summit of the By-Ward Tower.
Among those who contrived to distinguish themselves in the action was Xit. Finding his position one of more danger than he had anticipated, he scrambled upon the wall on the right of the By-ward Tower, where, being out of the rush, he could defy at his ease those who were swimming in the moat.
While he was in this situation, Bret, who, it has been mentioned, was thrown into the moat, swam to the wall, and endeavoured to ascend it. Xit immediately attacked him, and adopting the language of Magog to Wyat, threatened to throw him back again if he did not yield.
“I do yield,’” replied Bret.
“Your name and rank?” demanded the dwarf, in an authoritative tone.
“Alexander Bret, captain of the London Trained Bands, second in command to Sir Thomas Wyat,” replied the other.
“Here, Magog—Gog—Og—help!” shouted Xit—“I have taken a prisoner. It is Captain Bret, one of the rebel leaders—help him out of the moat, and let us carry him before the queen! I am certain to be knighted for my valour. Mind, I have taken him. He has yielded to me. No one else has had a hand in his capture.”