aldermen in their robes and
chains, with the sheriffs of London and the whole imposing array, and
the Lord Mayor with the Duke sat enthroned above them in truly awful
dignity. The Duke was a hard and pitiless man, and bore the City a
bitter grudge for the death of his retainer, the priest killed in
Cheapside, and in spite of all his poetical fame, it may be feared that
the Earl of Surrey was not of much more merciful mood, while their men-
at-arms spoke savagely of hanging, slaughtering, or setting the City on
fire.

The arraignment was very long, as there were so large a number of names
to be read, and, to the horror of all, it was not for a mere riot, but
for high treason. The King, it was declared, being in amity with all
Christian princes, it was high treason to break the truce and league by
attacking their subjects resident in England. The terrible punishment
of the traitor would thus be the doom of all concerned, and in the
temper of the Howards and their retainers, there was little hope of
mercy, nor, in times like those, was there even much prospect that, out
of such large numbers, some might escape.

A few were more especially cited, fourteen in number, among them George
Bates, Walter Ball, and Giles Headley, who had certainly given cause for
the beginning of the affray. There was no attempt to defend George
Bates, who seemed to be stunned and bewildered beyond the power of
speaking or even of understanding, but as Giles cast his eyes round in
wild, terrified appeal, Master Headley rose up in his alderman's gown,
and prayed leave to be heard in his defence, as he had witnesses to
bring in his favour.

"Is he thy son, good Armourer Headley?" demanded the Duke of Norfolk,
who held the work of the Dragon court in high esteem.

"Nay, my Lord Duke, but he is in the place of one, my near kinsman and
godson, and so soon as his time be up, bound to wed my only child! I
pray you to hear his cause, ere cutting off the heir of an old and
honourable house."

Norfolk and his sons murmured something about the Headley skill in
armour, and the Lord Mayor was willing enough for mercy, but Sir John
Mundy here rose: "My Lord Duke, this is the very young man who was first
to lay hands on me! Yea, my lords and sirs, ye have already heard how
their rude sport, contrary to proclamation, was the cause of the tumult.
When I would have bidden them go home, the one brawler asks me
insolently, `Wherefore?' the other smote me w