I well knew if the king once reached Wolsey’s, it would be wine and quoits and other games, interspersed now and then with a little blustering talk on statecraft, for the rest of the day.  Then the good bishop would have in a few pretty London women and a dance would follow with wine and cards and dice, and Henry would spend the night at Wolsey’s, and Brandon lie another night in the mire of his Newgate dungeon.

I resolved to raise heaven and earth, and the other place, too, if necessary, before this should happen.  So I rode boldly up to the king, and with uncovered head addressed him:  “Your majesty gave me your royal word that you would go to the lord mayor first, and this is the road to my lord bishop of Lincoln.  In all the years I have known your majesty, both as gallant prince and puissant king, this is the first request I ever proffered, and now I only ask of you to save your own noble honor, and do your duty as man and king.”

These were bold words, but I did not care one little farthing whether they pleased him or not.  The king stared at me and said: 

“Caskoden, you are a perfect hound at my heels.  But you are right; I had forgotten my errand.  You disturbed my dinner, and my stomach called loudly for one of Mistress Cornwallis’s puddings; but you are right to stick to me.  What a friend you are in case of need.  Would I had one like you.”

“Your majesty has two of whom I know; one riding humbly by your royal side, and the other lying in the worst dungeon in Christendom.”

With this the king wheeled about and started west toward Guildhall.

Oh, how I hated Henry for that cold-blooded, selfish forgetfulness worse than crime; and how I hoped the Blessed Virgin would forget him in time to come, and leave his soul an extra thousand years in purging flames, just to show him how it goes to be forgotten—­in hell.

To the lord mayor we accordingly went without further delay.  He was only too glad to liberate Brandon when he heard my story, which the king had ordered me to repeat.  The only hesitancy was from a doubt of its truth.

The lord mayor was kind enough to say that he felt little doubt of my word, but that friendship would often drive a man to any extremity, even falsehood, to save a friend.

Then I offered to go into custody myself and pay the penalty, death, for helping a convicted felon to escape, if I told not the truth, to be confirmed or denied by the princess and her first lady in waiting.  I knew Jane and was willing to risk her truthfulness without a doubt—­it was so pronounced as to be troublesome at times—­and as to Mary—­well, I had no doubt of her, either.  If she would but stop to think out the right she was sure to do it.

I have often wondered how much of the general fund of evil in this world comes from thoughtlessness.  Cultivate thought and you make virtue—­I believe.  But this is no time to philosophize.