support at Framlingham, were her loyal subjects, whom she could afford
to neglect, because she could depend upon their fidelity. Pembroke and
Winchester, Arundel and Shrewsbury, Bedford, {p.028} Cobham, Cheyne,
Petre, too powerful to affront, too uncertain to be trusted as
subjects, she could only attach to herself by maintaining in their
offices and emoluments. She would restore the Duke of Norfolk to the
council; Gardiner should hold office again; and she could rely on the
good faith of Paget, the ablest, as well as the most honest, of all
the professional statesmen. But Norfolk was old, and the
latitudinarian Paget and the bigoted Gardiner bore each other no good
will; so that, when the queen had leisure to contemplate her position,
it did not promise to be an easy one. She would have to govern with
the assistance of men who were gorged with the spoils of the church,
suspected of heresy, and at best indifferent to religion.

In Mary's absence, the lords in London carried on the government as
they could on their own responsibility. On the 21st Courtenay was
released from the Tower. Gardiner was offered liberty, but he waited
to accept it from the queen's own hand. He rejoined the council,
however, and on the first or second day of his return to the board, he
agitated their deliberations by requiring the restoration of his house
in Southwark, which had been appropriated to the Marquis of
Northampton, and by reminding Pembroke that he was in possession of
estates which had been stolen from the See of Winchester.

On the 25th Northumberland and Lord Ambrose Dudley were brought in
from Cambridge, escorted by Grey and Arundel, with four hundred of the
guard. Detachments of troops were posted all along the streets from
Bishopsgate, where the duke would enter, to the Tower, to prevent the
mob from tearing him in pieces. It was but twelve days since he had
ridden out from that gate in the splendour of his power; he was now
assailed from all sides with yells and execrations; bareheaded, with
cap in hand, he bowed to the crowd as he rode on, as if to win some
compassion from them; but so recent a humility could find no favour.
His scarlet cloak was plucked from his back; the only sounds which
greeted his ears were, "Traitor, traitor, death to the traitor!" He
hid his face, sick at heart with shame, and Lord Ambrose, at the gate
of the Tower, was seen to burst into tears.[67] Edwin Sandys,
Northampton, Ridley, Lord Robert Dudle