“I would counsel your majesty to reflect ere you concede thus much,” observed Arundel.
“I have already said that my resolution is taken,” replied the Queen. “Repeat what I have told you to him, and entreat him to return.”
“Entreat him!” echoed Pembroke scornfully. “It is not for your highness to entreat, but to command. Obedience sworn at the altar by the lips of the Queen of England, is cancelled as soon as uttered. Your husband is your subject. Empower us to bring him to you, and he shall be at your feet within an hour.”
“My pleasure is that you literally fulfil my injunctions, my lords,” replied the Queen. “Lord Guilford Dudley was the husband of my choice. When I gave my hand to him at the altar, I had no thought that it would ever grasp a sceptre, Nor, till I obtained this unlooked-for—and, believe me, most unwished-for dignity,—did the slightest misunderstanding ever arise between us. But now that I am compelled to sacrifice my affections at the shrine of duty,—now that I am Queen as well as consort—and he is subject as well as husband—this disagreement has occurred, which a little calm reflection will put to rights.”
“What if his lordship should refuse to return with us?” asked Pembroke.
“You will use your best endeavours to induce him to do so,” replied Jane, a tear starting to her eye, and her voice faltering in spite of her efforts to maintain her composure. “But if you fail, I shall at least be satisfied that I have done my duty.”
“Your majesty’s commands shall be obeyed,” replied Pembroke. “But we must have your licence to go forth—for we are detained as prisoners within the Tower.”
“You shall have it,” replied Jane. And she immediately wrote out the order.
“The passport must be countersigned by the duke,” said Pembroke. “The gate-keepers will not hold this sufficient authority.”
“How!” exclaimed Jane, reddening, “Am I not Queen? Is not my authority absolute here?”