Leonard Meryll's tale:

As the sixteenth century was swinging into the seventeenth there sat snug by the fire in the yeoman warders' quarters of the old Tower of London a middle aged man with a little girl upon his knee.  His name, Leonard Meryll; his rank, Sergeant of Yeoman (as his father was before him).  And this is the tale he told in the flickering firelight to the little maid, who was his niece, Phoebe Shadbolt.

Marry, child (he said), it happened long ere thou wert born, before thy mother wedded with thy father, and when I myself was but a stripling, though well-grown and not ill-favoured, they do say.  To tell thee sooth, Phoebe, thy father was but a sad dog in those days, though thou might'st not think it now, having thy mother and thee to make him merry.  He was but the assistant tormentor then, and thy mother (my sister) led him a wayward dance.  Our father (thy grandad, child, who else?) was, as I am now, the sergeant of the guard; and on a summer's day many years ago he was nigh the saddest wight in all this grim old Tower.  For his old commander, Colonel Fairfax - a great soldier and a fine gentleman, my poppet - was to die.  Why child?  Well they said 'twas for dealing with the devil, but all of us - my father, thy grandam Carruthers, nay the' entire company i' the Tower - knew 'twas a plot of his vile cousin, who coveted the Colonel's manor and envied him his fair name.  So he lay in Number Fourteen, i' the Cold Harbour, bravely awaiting the dawn and the execution bell.

I mind the day well, child, 'twas on that very morn that I was to join the Tower Warders; but when I came hither thy grandad told me of the Colonel's plight, and thy mother and he hatched a plot.  Aye, 'twas wrong, sweet Phoebe - I know well 'twas wrong, but, marry, I'd do it a thousand times o'er, and proudly, to save yon brave soldier.

Can'st recollect, my sweet, the great lady who brought thee goodies and playthings when thou wert sick i' the summer?  Lady Fairfax she is now, but in those days I'm telling of she was but a poor strolling player.  Elsie Maynard was her name then, and through the countryside she danced and sang along of Jack Point, the jester, earning a poor living.  It chanced that they came that day to the Tower and a strange thing befell.

The Colonel, for reason too deep for thee, my love, wanted a wife ere he died and he asked my master the Lieutenant to find him a maid - any maid - who'd wed for a hundred crowns and become a widow ere she was a wife.  The Lieutenant put the plan to Elsie, and she, needing the money sorely, consented.  And while she was married, blindfold, to Colonel Fairfax, we laboured on our plan to save his life.

Thy mother beguiled thy father and stole his keys - nay, child, thy father has long forgiven her, for the cause was good and the ending sweet.  My warders uniform, which I had ne'er had chance to wear, was smuggled out to the Colonel's cell, and behold, as I stole back into London town across the drawbridge yonder, Colonel Fairfax became Leonard Meryll, yeoman of the guard.

Would that I had been there to see what befell - to chuckle at the rage, the confusion and the bewailing that greeted the company when Number Fourteen i' the Cold Harbour was found bare and empty.  Jack Point, they say was like to die of a frenzy, for, look you child, his Elsie was wed to a man who had escaped and was ... why, who could tell where he was?

So thy father Wilfred and this same Jack Point hatched a plot of their own.  Why not., quoth Jack, fire an arquebus that night and then swear - and the one would confirm the other in all semblance of detail and truth - that they had shot the evil Fairfax as he was escaping, and his corpse was now 'neath the waters of the Thames?  Thy pretty head could not contain half the consequences of this monstrous lie - but, marry, child, murder will out, they say, and so will deceit.

But it all came out fair and jolly, for thy grandad and thy father got thy brides; Elsie got her true love for a husband; and he, Colonel Fairfax, got his pardon and his good name.  What say'st thou, my sweet?  Jack point ... what did he get?  marry child (and weep not at the telling) he got nought ... nought i' the wide, wide world ... nought but a broken heart.