As the Duke retired, Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, advanced.
“Your Grace shall not only have your bishoprick again,” said Mary, “but you shall have another high and important office.—I here appoint you Lord Chancellor of the realm.”
“Your highness overwhelms me with kindness,” replied Gardiner, pressing her hand to his lips.
“You have no more than your desert, my lord,” replied Mary. “But I pray you stand aside a moment. There are other claimants of our attention.”
Gardiner withdrew, and another deprived bishop took his place. It was Bonner.
“My lord,” said Mary, as he bowed before her, “you are restored to the see of London, and the prelate who now so unworthily fills that high post, Bishop Ridley, shall make room for you. My lord,” she added to Lord Clinton, “make out a warrant, and let him be committed to the Tower.”
“I told you how it would be,” observed Renard to Lord Pembroke. “Ridley’s last discourse has cost him his liberty. Cranmer will speedily follow.”
Other prisoners, amongst whom was Tunstall, Bishop of Durham, and the Duchess of Somerset, now advanced, and were warmly welcomed by the Queen. The last person who approached her was a remarkably handsome young man, with fine features and a noble figure. This was Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquess of Exeter, who was beheaded in 1538. Since that time Courtenay had been a close prisoner in the Tower. He was of the blood-royal, being grandson of Catherine, youngest daughter of Edward the Fourth, and his father had been declared heir to the throne.
“You are right welcome, my cousin,” said Mary, extending her hand graciously to him, which he pressed to his lips. “Your attainder shall be set aside, and though we cannot restore your father to life, we can repair the fortunes of his son, and restore him to his former honours. Henceforth, you are Earl of Devonshire. Your patent shall be presently made out, and such of your sire’s possessions as are in our hands restored.”
Courtenay warmly thanked her for her bounty, and the Queen smiled upon him in such gracious sort, that a suspicion crossed more than one bosom that she might select him as her consort.
“Her majesty smiles upon Courtenay as if she would bestow her hand upon him in right earnest,” observed Pembroke to Renard.
