Then they had moved south; Lord Sussex was powerless in York; the Queen,
terrified and irresolute, alternately storming and crying; Spain was
about to send ships to Hartlepool to help the rebels; Mary Stuart would
certainly be rescued from her prison at Tutbury. Then Mary had been moved
to Coventry; then came a last flare of frightening tales: York had
fallen; Mary had escaped; Elizabeth was preparing to flee.
And then one morning the Alderman's face was brighter: it was all a lie,
he said. The revolt had crumbled away; my Lord Sussex was impregnably
fortified in York with guns from Hull; Lord Pembroke was gathering forces
at Windsor; Lords Clinton, Hereford and Warwick were converging towards
York to relieve the siege. And as if to show Isabel it was not a mere
romance, she could see the actual train-bands go by up Cheapside with the
gleam of steel caps and pike-heads, and the mighty tramp of disciplined
feet, and the welcoming roar of the swarming crowds.
Then as men's hearts grew lighter the tale of chastisement began to be
told, and was not finished till long after Isabel was home again. Green
after green of the windy northern villages was made hideous by the
hanging bodies of the natives, and children hid their faces and ran by
lest they should see what her Grace had done to their father.
In spite of the Holy Sacrifice, and the piteous banner, and the call to
fight for the faith, the Catholics had hung back and hesitated, and the
catastrophe was complete.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45