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Updated: June 29, 2025
In later days the queens of Edward I. and Edward II. visited Tynemouth Priory; and it was from Tynemouth that the foolish King Edward II. and his worthless favourite Piers Gaveston fled from the angry barons to Scarborough.
Alban's had under himself the cell of Tynemouth in Northumberland and two others in Norfolk-viz., Binham and Wymondham, the latter of which eventually became an independent abbey and the heads of these cells or subject houses were called Priors. An abbey was a monastery which was independent. A priory was a monastery which in theory or in fact was subject to an abbey.
"How many gentlemen volunteer to go down ay, there's five!" he added, as Stafford and Tynemouth and the others once again responded. Jasmine saw, but at first did not fully realize what was happening. But presently she understood that there was one near, owing everything to her husband, who had not volunteered to help to save him on the thousandth chance. She was stunned and stricken.
He smiled, looked down at her with admiration, and quoted some lines of Swinburne, alive with cynicism: "And the worst and the best of this is, That neither is most to blame If she has forgotten my kisses, And I have forgotten her name." Lady Tynemouth made a plaintive gesture.
Rudyard Byng have returned to town from Scotland for a few days, before proceeding to Wales, where they are presently to receive at Glencader Castle the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield, the Prince and Princess of Cleaves, M. Santon, the French Foreign Minister, the Slavonian Ambassador, the Earl and Countess of Tynemouth, and Mr. Tudor Tempest." "'And Mr. Tudor Tempest," Ian repeated to himself.
As she babbled on, Lady Tynemouth had been eyeing her friend with swift inquiry, for she had never seen Jasmine look as she did to-night, so ethereal, so tragically ethereal, with dark lines under the eyes, the curious transparency of the skin, and the feverish brightness and far-awayness of the look. She was about to say something in comment, but other guests entered, and it was impossible.
An antique lamp, hanging from an iron chain, gave a dim light, which strove with darkness and damp to show the horrors of the scene. Here the three judges were met to pronounce the sentence of doom. In the pale light sat the Abbess of St. Hilda. Closely she drew her veil to hide the teardrops of pity. Near her was the Prioress of Tynemouth, proud and haughty, yet white with awe.
His army fled in dismay; his corpse was left on the ground, till a peasant carried it to Tynemouth; his men were dispersed, slain, or drowned in their flight; his young son Edmund, a stripling of eighteen or nineteen, just contrived to escape to Edinburgh Castle.
Before proceeding to other matters it is well to add that, when intelligence of this disaster was telegraphed to the Lifeboat Institution, a new lifeboat was immediately forwarded to Tynemouth, temporarily to replace the damaged Constance. Instructions were given for the relief of the widows and children of the two lifeboat-men who had perished, and 26 pounds was sent to the crew of the boat.
News of the Dutch ships lying off Bridlington was, however, conveyed to four Parliamentary vessels stationed by the bar at Tynemouth, and no time was lost in sailing southwards. What happened is told in a letter published in the same year, and dated February 25, 1642.
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