The prisoners were then removed, and as they walked side by side, Courtenay sought to address the princess, but she turned away her head sharply, according him neither look nor word in reply. Finding himself thus repulsed, the earl desisted, and they proceeded in silence as long as their way lay together.
And thus, without one farewell, they parted—to meet no more. Liberated at the instance of Philip of Spain, Courtenay journeyed to Italy, where he died two years afterwards, at Padua, obtaining, as Holinshed touchingly remarks, “that quiet, which in his life he could never have.” Of the glorious destiny reserved for Elizabeth, nothing need be said.
The prisoners removed, the queen presented her hand to the Earl of Pembroke, and repaired with her whole retinue to Saint John’s Chapel.
Arrived there, Mary stationed herself at the altar, around which were grouped Bonner, Tunstal, Feckenham, and a host of other priests and choristers, in their full robes. In a short time, the nave and aisles of the sacred structure were densely crowded by the lords of the council, together with other nobles and their attendants, the dames of honour, the guard, and the suite of the Count D’Egmont. Nor were the galleries above unoccupied, every available situation finding a tenant.
D’Egmont, as the representative of Philip of Spain, took up a position on the right of the queen, and sustained his part with great dignity. As soon as Gardiner was prepared, the ceremonial commenced. D’Egmont tendered his hand to Mary, who took it, and they both knelt down upon the cushion before the altar, while the customary oaths were administered, and a solemn benediction pronounced over them. This done, they arose, and Gardiner observed to the queen in a voice audible throughout the structure—“Your majesty is now wedded to the Prince of Spain. May God preserve you both, and bless your union!”
“God preserve Queen Mary!” cried the Earl of Pembroke, stepping forward.
And the shout was enthusiastically echoed by all within the chapel. But not a voice was raised, nor a blessing invoked for her husband.
Te Deum was then sung by the choristers, and mass performed by Bonner and the priests.
“His imperial majesty entreats your acceptance of this slight offering,” said D’Egmont, when the sacred rites were concluded, presenting the queen with a diamond ring, of inestimable value.
“I accept the gift,” replied Mary, “and I beg you to offer my best thanks to the emperor. For yourself, I hope you will wear this ornament in remembrance of me, and of the occasion.” And detaching a collar of gold set with precious stones from her own neck, she placed it over that of D’Egmont.