Windsor Castle by William Harrison Ainsworth (read along books TXT) 📕

penetrated, and, dismounting, placed himself so that he could witness the meeting between her and the king. Behind him stood the jester, Will Sommers, who was equally curious with himself. The litter of Cardinal Campeggio passed through the gateway and proceeded to the lodgings reserved for his eminence.

Scarcely had Wolsey taken up his station than Henry rode up, and, alighting, consigned his horse to a page, and, followed by the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of Surrey, advanced towards Anne Boleyn, who immediately stepped forward to meet him.

“Fair mistress,” he said, taking her hand, and regarding her with a look of passionate devotion, “I welcome you to this my castle of Windsor, and trust soon to make you as absolute mistress of it as I am lord and master.”

Anne Boleyn blushed, and cast down her eyes, and Sir Thomas Wyat, who stood at some little distance with his hand upon his saddle, regarding her, felt that any hopes he might have entertained were utterly annihilated.

“Heard you that, my lord cardinal?” said Will Sommers to Wolsey. “She will soon be mistress here. As she comes in, you go out—mind that!”

The cardinal made no answer further than was conveyed by the deepened colour of his cheeks.

Amid continued fanfares and acclamations, Harry then led Anne Boleyn through the gateway, followed by the ladies in waiting, who were joined by Richmond and Surrey. The prelate, chancellor, register, black rod, and other officers of the Garter, together with the whole of the royal retinue who had dismounted, came after them. A vast concourse of spectators, extending almost as far as the Lieutenant's Tower, was collected in front of the alms-knights' houses; but a wide space had been kept clear by the henchmen for the passage of the sovereign and his train, and along this Henry proceeded with Anne Boleyn, in the direction of the upper ward. Just as he reached the Norman Tower, and passed the entrance to the keep, the Duke of Shoreditch, who was standing beneath the gateway, advanced towards him and prostrated himself on one knee.

“May it please your majesty,” said Shoreditch, “I last night arrested a butcher of Windsor for uttering words highly disrespectful of your highness, and of the fair and virtuous lady by your side.”

“Ah! God's death!” exclaimed the king. “Where is the traitor? Bring him before us.”

“He is here,” replied Shoreditch.

And immediately Mark Fytton was brought forward by a couple of halberdiers. He still preserved his undaunted demeanour, and gazed sternly at the king.

“So, fellow, thou hast dared to speak disrespectfully of us—ha!” cried Henry.

“I have spoken the truth,” replied the butcher fearlessly. “I have said you were about to divorce your lawful consort, Catherine of Arragon, and to take the minion, Anne Boleyn, who stands beside you, to your bed. And I added, it was a wrongful act.”

“Foul befall thy lying tongue for saying so!” replied Henry furiously. “I have a mind to pluck it from thy throat, and cast it to the dogs. What ho! guards, take this caitiff to the summit of the highest tower of the castle—the Curfew Tower—and hang him from it, so that all my loyal subjects in Windsor may see how traitors are served.”

“Your highness has judged him justly,” said Anne Boleyn. “You say so now, Mistress Anne Boleyn,” rejoined the butcher; “but you yourself shall one day stand in as much peril of your life as I do, and shall plead as vainly as I should, were I to plead at all, which I will never do to this inexorable tyrant. You will then remember my end.”

“Away with him!” cried Henry. “I myself will go to the Garter Tower to see it done. Farewell for a short while, sweetheart. I will read these partisans of Catherine a terrible lesson.”

As the butcher was hurried off to the Curfew Tower, the king proceeded with his attendants to the Garter Tower, and ascended to its summit.

In less than ten minutes a stout pole, like the mast of a ship, was thrust through the battlements of the Curfew Tower, on the side looking towards the town. To this pole a rope, of some dozen feet in length, and having a noose at one end, was firmly secured. The butcher was then brought forth, bound hand and foot, and the noose was thrown over his neck.

While this was passing, the wretched man descried a person looking at him from a window in a wooden structure projecting from the side of the tower.

“What, are you there, Morgan Fenwolf?” he cried. “Remember what passed between us in the dungeon last night, and be warned! You will not meet your end as firmly as I meet mine?”

“Make thy shrift quickly, fellow, if thou hast aught to say,” interposed one of the halberdiers.

“I have no shrift to make,” rejoined the butcher. “I have already settled my account with Heaven. God preserve Queen Catherine!”

As he uttered these words, he was thrust off from the battlements by the halberdiers, and his body swung into the abyss amid the hootings and execrations of the spectators below.

Having glutted his eyes with the horrible sight, Henry descended from the tower, and returned to Anne Boleyn.