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

“Hush!” cried Herne, “or you will wake this sleeper. It is as you suppose. Will you not aid her now? Will you not bestow some of your treasure upon her before it is wholly wrested from you by the king? I will do aught you wish, secretly and swiftly.”

“Go, then, to my palace at Esher,” cried the cardinal. “Take this key to my treasurer—it is the key of my coffers. Bid him deliver to you the six caskets in the cabinet in the gilt chamber. Here is a token by which he will know that you came from me,” he added, delivering him a small chain of gold, “for it has been so agreed between us. But you will be sure to give the treasure to Mabel.”

“Fear nothing,” replied Herne. And stretching forth his hand to receive the key and the chain, he glided behind the tapestry, and disappeared.

This strange incident gave some diversion to Wolsey's thought; but ere long they returned to their former channel. Sleep would not be summoned, and as soon as the first glimpse of day appeared, he arose, and wrapping his robe around him, left his room and ascended a winding staircase leading to the roof of the tower.

The morning promised to be fine, but it was then hazy, and the greater part of the forest was wrapped in mist. The castle, however, was seen to great advantage. Above Wolsey rose the vast fabric of the Round Tower, on the summit of which the broad standard was at that moment being unfurled; while the different battlements and towers arose majestically around. But Wolsey's gaze rested chiefly upon the exquisite mausoleum lying immediately beneath him; in which he had partly prepared for himself a magnificent monument. A sharp pang shook him as he contemplated it, and he cried aloud, “My very tomb will be wrested from me by this rapacious monarch; and after all my care and all my cost, I know not where I shall rest my bones!”

Saddened by the reflection, he descended to his chamber, and again threw himself on the couch.

But Wolsey was not the only person in the castle who had passed a sleepless night. Of the host of his enemies many had been kept awake by the anticipation of his downfall on the morrow; and among these was Anne Boleyn, who had received an assurance from the king that her enmity should at length be fully gratified.

At the appointed hour, the two cardinals, proceeded to the royal lodgings. They were detained for some time in the ante-chamber, where Wolsey was exposed to the taunts and sneers of the courtiers, who had lately so servilely fawned upon him. At length, they were ushered into the presence chamber, at the upper end of which beneath a canopy emblazoned with the royal arms woven in gold, sat Henry, with Anne Boleyn on his right hand. At the foot of the throne stood Will Sommers, and near him the Dukes of Richmond and Suffolk. Norfolk, Rochford, and a number of other nobles, all open enemies of Wolsey, were also present. Henry watched the advance of the cardinals with a stern look, and after they had made an obeisance to him, he motioned them to rise.

“You have sought an interview with me, my lords,” he said, with suppressed rage. “What would you?”

“We have brought an instrument to you, my liege,” said Wolsey, “which has just been received from his holiness the Pope.”

“Declare its nature,” said Henry.

“It is a citation,” replied Wolsey, “enjoining your high ness to appear by attorney in the papal court, under a penalty of ten thousand ducats.”

And he presented a parchment, stamped with the great seal of Rome, to the king, who glanced his eye fiercely over it, and then dashed it to the ground, with an explosion of fury terrible to hear and to witness.

“Ha! by Saint George!” he cried; “am I as nothing, that the Pope dares to insult me thus?”

“It is a mere judicial form your majesty,” interposed Campeggio, “and is chiefly sent by his holiness to let you know we have no further jurisdiction in the matter of the divorce.”

“I will take care you have not, nor his holiness either,” roared the king. “By my father's head, he shall find I will be no longer trifled with.”

“But, my liege,” cried Campeggio.

“Peace!” cried the king. “I will hear no apologies nor excuses. The insult has been offered, and cannot be effaced. As for you, Wolsey—”

“Sire!” exclaimed the cardinal, shrinking before the whirlwind of passion, which seemed to menace his utter extermination.

“As for you, I say,” pursued Henry, extending his hand towards him, while his eyes flashed fire, “who by your outrageous pride have so long overshadowed our honour—who by your insatiate avarice and appetite for wealth have oppressed our subjects—who by your manifold acts of bribery and extortion have impoverished our realm, and by your cruelty and partiality have subverted the due course of justice and turned it to your ends—the time is come when you shall receive due punishment for your offences.”

“You wrong me, my dear liege,” cried Wolsey abjectly. “These are the accusations of my enemies. Grant me a patient hearing, and I will explain all.”

“I would not sharpen the king's resentment against you, lord cardinal,” said Anne Boleyn, “for it is keen enough; but I cannot permit you to say that these charges are merely hostile. Those who would support the king's honour and dignity must desire to see you removed from his counsels.”

“I am ready to take thy place, lord cardinal,” said Will Sommers; “and will exchange my bauble for thy chancellor's mace, and my fool's cap for thy cardinal's hat.”

“Peace!” thundered the king. “Stand not between me and the object of my wrath. Your accusers are not one but many, Wolsey; nay, the whole of my people cry out for justice against you. And they shall have it. But you shall hear the charges they bring. Firstly, contrary to our prerogative, and for your own advancement and profit, you have obtained authority legatine from the Pope; by which authority you have not only spoiled and taken away their substance from many religious houses, but have usurped much of our own jurisdiction. You have also made a treaty with the King of France for the Pope without our consent, and concluded another friendly treaty with the Duke of Ferrara, under our great seal, and in our name, without our warrant. And furthermore you have presumed to couple yourself with our royal self in your letters and instructions, as if you were on an equality with us.”

“Ha! ha! 'The king and I would have you do thus!' 'The king and I give you our hearty thanks!' Ran it not so, cardinal?” cried Will Sommers. “You will soon win the cap and bells.”

“In exercise of your legatine authority,” pursued the king, “you have given away benefices contrary to our crown and dignity, for the which you are in danger of forfeiture of your lands and goods.”

“A premunire, cardinal,” cried Will Sommers. “A premunire!—ha! ha!”

“Then it has been your practice to receive all the ambassadors to our