Produced by Robert Cicconetti, KD Weeks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Transcriber's Note: Some obvious typographical errors have been
corrected, and several inconsistent spellings regularized. Please see
the Transcriber's end notes for details.
[Illustration: Execution of Guy Fawkes]
GUY FAWKES
OR
THE GUNPOWDER TREASON
_AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE_
BY
WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH
With Illustrations on Steel by George Cruikshank
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited
BROADWAY HOUSE, LUDGATE HILL
LONDON AND COUNTY PRINTING WORKS,
BAZAAR BUILDINGS, LONDON, W.C.
TO
MRS. HUGHES,
KINGSTON LISLE, BERKS.
MY DEAR MRS. HUGHES,
You are aware that this Romance was brought to a close during my last
brief visit at Kingston Lisle, when the time necessary to be devoted to
it deprived me of the full enjoyment of your society, and, limiting my
range--no very irksome restriction,--to your own charming garden and
grounds, prevented me from accompanying you in your walks to your
favourite and beautiful downs. This circumstance, which will suffice to
give it some interest in your eyes by associating it with your
residence, furnishes me with a plea, of which I gladly avail myself, of
inscribing it with your name, and of recording, at the same time, the
high sense I entertain of your goodness and worth, the value I set upon
your friendship,--a friendship shared in common with some of the most
illustrious writers of our time,--and the gratitude I shall never cease
to feel for attentions and kindnesses, little less than maternal, which
I have experienced at your hands.
In the hope that you may long continue to diffuse happiness round your
own circle, and contribute to the instruction and delight of the many
attached friends with whom you maintain so active and so interesting a
correspondence; and that you may live to see your grandsons fulfil their
present promise, and tread in the footsteps of their high-minded and
excellent-hearted father,--and of _his_ father! I remain
Your affectionate and obliged friend,
W. HARRISON AINSWORTH.
KENSAL MANOR HOUSE, HARROW ROAD,
_July 26, 1841_.
PREFACE.
The tyrannical measures adopted against the Roman Catholics in the early
part of the reign of James the First, when the severe penal enactments
against recusants were revived, and with additional rigour, and which
led to the remarkable conspiracy about to be related, have been so
forcibly and faithfully described by Doctor Lingard,[1] that the
following extract from his history will form a fitting introduction to
the present work.
"The oppressive and sanguinary code framed in the reign of Elizabeth,
was re-enacted to its full extent, and even improved with additional
severities. Every individual who had studied or resided, or should
afterwards study or reside in any college or seminary beyond the sea,
was rendered incapable of inheriting, or purchasing, or enjoying lands,
annuities, chattels, debts, or sums of money, within the realm; and as
missionaries sometimes eluded detection under the disguise of tutors, it
was provided that no man should teach even the rudiments of grammar in
public or in private, without the previous approbation of the diocesan.
"The execution of the penal laws enabled the king, by an ingenious
comment, to derive considerable profit from his past forbearance. It was
pretended that he had never forgiven the penalties of recusancy; he had
merely forbidden them to be exacted for a time, in the hope that this
indulgence would lead to conformity; but his expectations had been
deceived; the obstinacy of the Catholics had grown with the lenity of
the sovereign; and, as they were unworthy of further favour, they should
now be left to the severity of the law. To their dismay, the legal fine
of twenty pounds per lunar month was again demanded, and not only for
the time to come, but for the whole period of the suspension; a demand
which, by crowding thirteen payments into one, reduced many families of
moderate incomes to a state of absolute beggary. Nor was this all. James
was surrounded by numbers of his indigent countrymen. Their habits were
expensive, their wants many, and their importunities incessant. To
satisfy the more clamorous, a new expedient was devised. The king
transferred to them his claims on some of the more opulent recusants,
against whom they were at liberty to proceed by law, in his name, unless
the sufferers should submit to compound, by the grant of an annuity for
life, or the immediate payment of a considerable sum. This was at a time
when the jealousies between the two nations had reached a height, of
which, at the present day, we have but little conception. Had the money
been carried to the royal coffers, the recusants would have had
sufficient reason to complain; but that Englishmen should be placed by
their king at the mercy of foreigners, that they should be stripped of
their property to support the extravagance of his Scottish minions, this
added indignity to injustice, exacerbated their already wounded
feelings, and goaded the most moderate almost to desperation." From this
deplorable state of things, which is by no means over-coloured in the
above description, sprang the Gunpowder Plot.
The county of Lancaster has always abounded in Catholic families, and at
no period were the proceedings of the ecclesiastical commissioners more
rigorous against them than at that under consideration. Manchester, "the
Goshen of this Egypt," as it is termed by the fiery zealot, Warden
Heyrick, being the place where all the recusants were imprisoned, the
scene of the early part of this history has been laid in that town and
its immediate neighbourhood. For the introduction of the munificent
founder of the Blue Coat Hospital into a tale of this description I
ought, perhaps, to apologize; but if I should succeed by it in arousing
my fellow-townsmen to a more lively appreciation of the great benefits
they have derived from him, I shall not regret what I have written.
In Viviana Radcliffe I have sought to portray the loyal and devout
Catholic, such as I conceive the character to have existed at the
period. In Catesby, the unscrupulous and ambitious plotter, masking his
designs under the cloak of religion. In Garnet, the subtle, and yet
sincere Jesuit. And in Fawkes the gloomy and superstitious enthusiast.
One doctrine I have endeavoured to enforce throughout,--TOLERATION.
From those who have wilfully misinterpreted one of my former
productions, and have attributed to it a purpose and an aim utterly
foreign to my own intentions, I can scarcely expect fairer treatment for
the present work. But to that wider and more discriminating class of
readers from whom I have experienced so much favour and support, I
confidently commit this volume, certain of meeting with leniency and
impartiality.
[1] Vide _History of England_, vol. ix. New Edition.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
DEDICATION iii
PREFACE v
Book the First.
THE PLOT.
CHAPTER
I. AN EXECUTION IN MANCHESTER, AT THE BEGINNING OF THE
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 1
II. ORDSALL CAVE 10
III. ORDSALL HALL 12
IV. THE SEARCH 26
V. CHAT MOSS 31
VI. THE DISINTERMENT 49
VII. DOCTOR DEE 50
VIII. THE MAGIC GLASS 56
IX. THE PRISON ON SALFORD BRIDGE 62
X. THE FATE OF THE PURSUIVANT 66
XI. THE PILGRIMAGE TO SAINT WINIFRED'S WELL 71
XII. THE VISION 83
XIII. THE CONSPIRATORS 87
XIV. THE PACKET 98
XV. THE ELIXIR 105
XVI. THE COLLEGIATE CHURCH AT MANCHESTER 115
XVII. THE RENCOUNTER 129
XVIII. THE EXPLANATION 131
XIX. THE DISCOVERY 133
XX. THE DEPARTURE FROM THE HALL 139
Book the Second.
THE DISCOVERY.
I. THE LANDING OF THE POWDER 147
II. THE TRAITOR 156
III. THE ESCAPE PREVENTED 163
IV. THE MINE 169
V. THE CAPTURE OF VIVIANA 179
VI. THE CELLAR 187
VII. THE STAR-CHAMBER 195
VIII. THE JAILER'S DAUGHTER 198
IX. THE COUNTERPLOT 212
X. WHITE WEBBS 220
XI. THE MARRIAGE IN THE FOREST 228
XII. THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER 237
XIII. THE FLIGHT OF THE CONSPIRATORS 245
XIV. THE EXAMINATION 255
Book the Third.
THE CONSPIRATORS.
I. HOW GUY FAWKES WAS PUT TO THE TORTURE 262
II. SHOWING THE TROUBLES OF VIVIANA 274
III. HUDDINGTON 278
IV. HOLBEACH 292
V. THE CLOSE OF THE REBELLION 294
VI. HAGLEY 304
VII. VIVIANA'S LAST NIGHT AT ORDSALL HALL 313
VIII. HENDLIP 319
IX. WHITEHALL 327
X. THE PARTING OF VIVIANA AND HUMPHREY CHETHAM 331
XI. THE SUBTERRANEAN DUNGEON 332
XII. THE TRAITOR BETRAYED 336
XIII. THE TRIAL 341
XIV. THE LAST MEETING OF FAWKES AND VIVIANA 344
XV. SAINT PAUL'S CHURCHYARD 347
XVI. OLD PALACE YARD 352
XVII. THE LAST EXECUTION 355
GUY FAWKES.
Book the First.
THE PLOT.
Their searches are many and severe. They come either in the night
or early in the morning, and ever seek their opportunity, when the
Catholics are or would be best occupied, or are likely to be worse
provided or look for nothing. They willingliest come when few are
at home to resist them, that they may rifle coffers, and do what
they list. They lock up the servants, and the mistress of the
house, and the whole family, in a room by themselves, while they,
like young princes, go rifling the house at their will.
_Letter to Vers'egan, ap. Stonyhurst MSS._
What a thing is it for a Catholic gentleman to have his house
suddenly beset on all sides with a number of men in arms, both
horse and foot! and not only his house and gardens, and such
enclosed places all beset, but all highways laid, for some miles
near unto him, that none shall pass, but they shall be examined!
Then are these searchers oft-times so rude and barbarous, that, if
the doors be not opened in the instant they would enter, they
break open the doors with all violence, as if they were to sack a
town of enemies won by the sword.
_Father Gerard's MS._
CHAPTER I.
AN EXECUTION IN MANCHESTER, AT THE BEGINNING OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
More than two hundred and thirty-five years ago, or, to speak with
greater precision, in 1605, at the latter end of June, it was rumoured
one morning in Manchester that two seminary priests, condemned at the
late assizes under the severe penal enactments then in force against the
Papists, were about to suffer death on that day. Attracted by the
report, large crowds flocked towards the place of execution, which, in
order to give greater solemnity to the spectacle, had been fixed at the
southern gate of the old Collegiate Church, where a scaffold was
erected. Near it was a large blood-stained block, the use of which will
be readily divined, and adjoining the block, upon a heap of blazing
coals, smoked a caldron filled with boiling pitch, intended to receive
the quarters of the miserable sufferers.
The place was guarded by a small band of soldiers, fully accoutred in
corslets and morions, and armed with swords, half-pikes, and calivers.
Upon the steps of the scaffold stood the executioner,--a square-built,
ill-favoured personage, busied in arranging a bundle of straw upon the
boards. He was dressed in a buff jerkin, and had a long-bladed,
two-edged knife thrust into his girdle. Besides these persons, there was
a pursuivant,--an officer appointed by the Privy Council to make search
throughout the provinces for recusants, Popish priests, and other
religious offenders. He was occupied at this moment in reading over a
list of suspected persons.
Neither the executioner nor his companions appeared in the slightest
degree impressed by the butcherly business about to be enacted; for the
former whistled carelessly as he pursued his task, while the latter
laughed and chatted with the crowd, or jestingly pointed their
matchlocks at the jackdaws wheeling above them in the sunny air, or
perching upon the pinnacles and tower of the neighbouring fane. Not so
the majority of the assemblage. Most of the older and wealthier families
in Lancashire still continuing to adhere to the ancient faith of their
fathers, it will not be wondered that many of their dependents should
follow their example. And, even of those who were adverse to the creed
of Rome, there were few who did not murmur at the rigorous system of
persecution adopted towards its professors.
At nine o'clock, the hollow rolling of a muffled drum was heard at a
distance. The deep bell of the church began to toll, and presently
afterwards the mournful procession was seen advancing from the
market-place. It consisted of a troop of mounted soldiers, equipped in
all respects like those stationed at the scaffold, with their captain at
their head, and followed by two of their number with hurdles attached to
their steeds, on which were tied the unfortunate victims. Both were
young men--both apparently prepared to meet their fate with firmness and
resignation. They had been brought from Radcliffe Hall--an old moated
and fortified mansion belonging to a wealthy family of that name,
situated where the close, called Pool Fold, now stands, and then
recently converted into a place of security for recusants; the two other
prisons in Manchester--namely, the New Fleet on Hunt's Bank, and the
gaol on Salford Bridge,--not being found adequate to the accommodation
of the numerous religious offenders.
By this time, the cavalcade had reached the place of execution. The
soldiers drove back the throng with their pikes, and cleared a space in
front of the scaffold; when, just as the cords that bound the limbs of
the priests were unfastened, a woman in a tattered woollen robe, with a
hood partially drawn over her face,--the features of which, so far as
they could be discerned, were sharp and attenuated,--a rope girded round
her waist, bare feet, and having altogether the appearance of a sister
of Charity, sprang forward, and flung herself on her knees beside them.
Clasping the hem of the garment of the nearest priest, she pressed it to
her lips, and gazed earnestly at him, as if imploring a blessing.
"You have your wish, daughter," said the priest, extending his arms over
her. "Heaven and our lady bless you!"
The woman then turned towards the other victim, who was audibly reciting
the _Miserere_.
"Back, spawn of Antichrist!" interposed a soldier, rudely thrusting her
aside. "Don't you see you disturb the father's devotions? He has enough
to do to take care of his own soul, without minding yours."
"Take this, daughter," cried the priest who had been first addressed,
offering her a small volume, which he took from his vest, "and fail not
to remember in your prayers the sinful soul of Robert Woodroofe, a
brother of the order of Jesus."
The woman put out her hand to take the book; but before it could be
delivered to her, it was seized by the soldier.
"Your priests have seldom anything to leave behind them," he shouted,
with a brutal laugh, "except some worthless and superstitious relic of a
saint or martyr. What's this? Ah! a breviary--a mass-book. I've too much
regard for your spiritual welfare to allow you to receive it," he added,
about to place it in his doublet.
"Give it her," exclaimed a young man, snatching it from him, and handing
it to the woman, who disappeared as soon as she had obtained possession
of it.
The soldier eyed the new-comer as if disposed to resent the
interference, but a glance at his apparel, which, though plain, and of a
sober hue, was rather above the middle class, as well as a murmur from
the crowd, who were evidently disposed to take part with the young man,
induced him to stay his hand. He, therefore, contented himself with
crying, "A recusant! a Papist!"
"I am neither recusant nor Papist, knave!" replied the other, sternly;
"and I counsel you to mend your manners, and show more humanity, or you
shall find I have interest enough to procure your dismissal from a
service which you disgrace."
This reply elicited a shout of applause from the mob.
"Who is that bold speaker?" demanded the pursuivant from one of his
attendants.
"Humphrey Chetham of Crumpsall," answered the man: "son to one of the
wealthiest merchants of the town, and a zealous upholder of the true
faith."
"He has a strange way of showing his zeal," rejoined the pursuivant,
entering the answer in his note-book. "And who is the woman he
befriended?"
"A half-crazed being called Elizabeth Orton," replied the attendant.
"She was scourged and tortured during Queen Elizabeth's reign for
pretending to the gift of prophecy, and was compelled to utter her
recantation within yonder church. Since then she has never opened her
lips."
"Indeed," exclaimed the pursuivant: "I will engage to make her speak,
and to some purpose. Where does she live?"
"In a cave on the banks of the Irwell, near Ordsall Hall," replied the
attendant. "She subsists on the chance contributions of the charitable;
but she solicits nothing,--and, indeed, is seldom seen."
"Her cave must be searched," observed the pursuivant; "it may be the
hiding-place of a priest. Father Campion was concealed in such another
spot at Stonor Park, near Henley-on-Thames, where he composed his
'_Decem Rationes_;' and, for a long time, eluded the vigilance of the
commissioners. We shall pass it in our way to Ordsall Hall to-night,
shall we not?"
The attendant nodded in the affirmative.
"If we surprise Father Oldcorne," continued the pursuivant, "and can
prove that Sir William Radcliffe and his daughter, both of whom are
denounced in my list, are harbourers and shelterers of recusants, we
shall have done a good night's work."
At this moment, an officer advanced, and commanded the priests to ascend
the scaffold.
As Father Woodroofe, who was the last to mount, reached the uppermost
step, he turned round and cried in a loud voice, "Good people, I take
you all to witness that I die in the true Catholic religion, and that I
rejoice and thank God with all my soul, that he hath made me worthy to
testify my faith therein by shedding my blood in this manner." He then
advanced towards the executioner, who was busied in adjusting the cord
round his companion's throat, and said, "God forgive thee--do thine
office quickly;" adding in a lower tone, "_Asperge me, Domine; Domine,
miserere mei!_"
And, amid the deep silence that ensued, the executioner performed his
horrible task.
The execution over, the crowd began to separate slowly, and various
opinions were expressed respecting the revolting and sanguinary
spectacle just witnessed. Many, who condemned--and the majority did
so--the extreme severity of the laws by which the unfortunate priests
had just suffered, uttered their sentiments with extreme caution; but
there were some whose feelings had been too much excited for prudence,
and who inveighed loudly and bitterly against the spirit of religious
persecution then prevailing; while a few others of an entirely opposite
persuasion looked upon the rigorous proceedings adopted against the
Papists, and the punishment now inflicted upon their priesthood, as a
just retribution for their own severities during the reign of Mary. In
general, the common people entertained a strong prejudice against the
Catholic party,--for, as it has been shrewdly observed, "they must have
some object to hate; heretofore it was the Welsh, the Scots, or the
Spaniards, but now in these latter times only the Papists;" but in
Manchester, near which, as has been already stated, so many old and
important families, professing that religion, resided, the case was
widely different; and the mass of the inhabitants were favourably
inclined towards them. It was the knowledge of this feeling that induced
the commissioners, appointed to superintend the execution of the
enactments against recusants, to proceed with unusual rigour in this
neighbourhood.
The state of the Roman Catholic party at the period of this history was
indeed most grievous. The hopes they had indulged of greater toleration
on the accession of James the First, had been entirely destroyed. The
persecutions, suspended during the first year of the reign of the new
monarch, were now renewed with greater severity than ever; and though
their present condition was deplorable enough, it was feared that worse
remained in store for them. "They bethought themselves," writes Bishop
Goodman, "that now their case was far worse than in the time of Queen
Elizabeth; for they did live in some hope that after the old woman's
life, they might have some mitigation, and even those who did then
persecute them were a little more moderate, as being doubtful what times
might succeed, and fearing their own case. But, now that they saw the
times settled, having no hope of better days, but expecting that the
uttermost rigour of the law should be executed, they became desperate:
finding that by the laws of the kingdom their own lives were not
secured, and for the carrying over of a priest into England it was no
less than high treason. A gentlewoman was hanged only for relieving and
harbouring a priest; a citizen was hanged only for being reconciled to
the Church of Rome; besides, the penal laws were such, and so executed,
that they could not subsist. What was usually sold in shops and usually
bought, this the pursuivant would take away from them as being Popish
and superstitious. One knight did affirm that in one term he gave twenty
nobles in rewards to the door-keeper of the Attorney-General; another
did affirm, that his third part which remained unto him of his estate
did hardly serve for his expense in law to defend him from other
oppressions; besides their children to be taken from home, to be brought
up in another religion. So they did every way conclude that their estate
was desperate; they could die but once, and their religion was more
precious unto them than their lives. They did further consider their
misery; how they were debarred in any course of life to help themselves.
They could not practise law,--they could not be citizens,--they could
have no office; they could not breed up their sons--none did desire to
match with them; they had neither fit marriages for their daughters,
nor nunneries to put them into; for those few which are beyond seas are
not considerable in respect of the number of recusants, and none can be
admitted into them without great sums of money, which they, being
exhausted, could not supply. The Spiritual Court did not cease to molest
them, to excommunicate them, then to imprison them; and thereby they
were utterly disenabled to sue for their own." Such is a faithful
picture of the state of the Catholic party at the commencement of the
reign of James the First.
Pressed down by these intolerable grievances, is it to be wondered at
that the Papists should repine,--or that some among their number, when
all other means failed, should seek redress by darker measures? By a
statute of Elizabeth, all who refused to conform to the established
religion were subjected to a fine of twenty pounds a lunar month; and
this heavy penalty, remitted, or rather suspended, on the accession of
the new sovereign, was again exacted, and all arrears claimed. Added to
this, James, whose court was thronged by a host of needy Scottish
retainers, assigned to them a certain number of wealthy recusants, and
empowered them to levy the fines--a privilege of which they were not
slow to avail themselves. There were other pains and penalties provided
for by the same statute, which were rigorously inflicted. To withdraw,
or seek to withdraw another from the established religion was accounted
high treason, and punished accordingly; to hear mass involved a penalty
of one hundred marks and a year's imprisonment; and to harbour a priest,
under the denomination of a tutor, rendered the latter liable to a
year's imprisonment, and his employer to a fine of ten pounds a-month.
Impressed with the belief that, in consequence of the unremitting
persecutions which the Catholics underwent in Elizabeth's time, the
religion would be wholly extirpated, Doctor Allen, a Lancashire divine,
who afterwards received a cardinal's hat, founded a college at Douay,
for the reception and education of those intending to take orders. From
this university a number of missionary priests, or seminarists, as they
were termed, were annually sent over to England; and it was against
these persons, who submitted to every hardship and privation, to danger,
and death itself, for the welfare of their religion, and in the hope of
propagating its doctrines, that the utmost rigour of the penal
enactments was directed. Among the number of seminarists despatched from
Douay, and capitally convicted under the statute above-mentioned, were
the two priests whose execution has just been narrated.
As a portion of the crowd passed over the old bridge across the Irwell
connecting Manchester with Salford, on which stood an ancient chapel
erected by Thomas de Booth, in the reign of Edward the Third, and
recently converted into a prison for recusants, they perceived the
prophetess, Elizabeth Orton, seated upon the stone steps of the
desecrated structure, earnestly perusing the missal given her by Father
Woodroofe. A mob speedily collected round her; but, unconscious
seemingly of their presence, the poor woman turned over leaf after leaf,
and pursued her studies. Her hood was thrown back, and discovered her
bare and withered neck, over which her dishevelled hair streamed in long
sable elf-locks. Irritated by her indifference, several of the
by-standers, who had questioned her as to the nature of her studies,
began to mock and jeer her, and endeavoured, by plucking her robe, and
casting little pebbles at her, to attract her attention. Roused at
length by these annoyances, she arose; and fixing her large black eyes
menacingly upon them, was about to stalk away, when they surrounded and
detained her.
"Speak to us, Bess," cried several voices. "Prophesy--prophesy."
"I _will_ speak to you," replied the poor woman, shaking her hand at
them, "I _will_ prophesy to you. And mark me, though ye believe not, my
words shall not fall to the ground."
"A miracle! a miracle!" shouted the by-standers. "Bess Orton, who has
been silent for twenty years, has found her tongue at last."
"I have seen a vision, and dreamed a dream," continued the prophetess.
"As I lay in my cell last night, meditating upon the forlorn state of
our religion, and of its professors, methought nineteen shadowy figures
stood before me--ay, nineteen--for I counted them thrice--and when I
questioned them as to their coming,--for my tongue at first clove to the
roof of my mouth, and my lips refused their office,--one of them
answered, in a voice which yet rings in my ears, 'We are the chosen
deliverers of our fallen and persecuted church. To us is intrusted the
rebuilding of her temples,--to our hands is committed the destruction of
our enemies. The work will be done in darkness and in secret,--with toil
and travail,--but it will at length be made manifest; and when the hour
is arrived, our vengeance will be terrible and exterminating.' With
these words, they vanished from my sight. Ah!" she exclaimed, suddenly
starting, and passing her hand across her brow, as if to clear her
sight, "it was no dream--no vision. I see one of them now."
"Where? where?" cried several voices.
The prophetess answered by extending her skinny arm towards some object
immediately before her.
All eyes were instantly turned in the same direction, when they beheld a
Spanish soldier--for such his garb proclaimed him--standing at a few
paces' distance from them. He was wrapped in an ample cloak, with a
broad-leaved steeple-crowned hat, decorated with a single green feather,
pulled over his brows, and wore a polished-steel brigandine, trunk hose,
and buff boots drawn up to the knees. His arms consisted of a brace of
petronels thrust into his belt, whence a long rapier depended. His
features were dark as bronze, and well-formed, though strongly marked,
and had an expression of settled sternness. His eyes were grey and
penetrating, and shaded by thick beetle-brows; and his physiognomy was
completed by a black peaked beard. His person was tall and erect, and
his deportment soldier-like and commanding. Perceiving he had become an
object of notice, the stranger cast a compassionate look at the
prophetess, who still remained gazing fixedly at him, and throwing her a
few pieces of money, strode away.
Watching his retreating figure till it disappeared from view, the crazed
woman tossed her arms wildly in the air, and cried, in a voice of
exultation, "Did I not speak the truth?--did I not tell you I had seen
him? He is the deliverer of our church, and is come to avenge the
righteous blood which hath been this day shed."
"Peace, woman, and fly while there is yet time," cried the young man who
had been designated as Humphrey Chetham. "The pursuivant and his
myrmidons are in search of you."
"Then they need not go far to find me," replied the prophetess. "I will
tell them what I told these people, that the day of bloody retribution
is at hand,--that the avenger is arrived. I have seen him twice,--once
in my cave, and once again here,--even where you stand."
"If you do not keep silence and fly, my poor creature," rejoined
Humphrey Chetham, "you will have to endure what you suffered years
ago,--stripes, and perhaps torture. Be warned by me--ah! it is too late.
He is approaching."
"Let him come," replied Elizabeth Orton, "I am ready for him."
"Can none of you force her away?" cried Humphrey Chetham, appealing to
the crowd; "I will reward you."
"I will not stir from this spot," rejoined the prophetess, obstinately;
"I will testify to the truth."
The kind-hearted young merchant, finding any further attempt to preserve
her fruitless, drew aside.
By this time, the pursuivant and his attendants had come up. "Seize
her!" cried the former, "and let her be placed within this prison till I
have reported her to the commissioners. If you will confess to me,
woman," he added in a whisper to her, "that you have harboured a priest,
and will guide us to his hiding-place, you shall be set free."
"I know of no priests but those you have murdered," returned the
prophetess, in a loud voice, "but I will tell you something that you wot
not of. The avenger of blood is at hand. I have seen him. All here have
seen him. And you shall see him--but not now--not now."
"What is the meaning of this raving?" demanded the pursuivant.
"Pay no heed to her talk," interposed Humphrey Chetham; "she is a poor
crazed being, who knows not what she says. I will be surety for her
inoffensive conduct."
"You must give me surety for yourself, sir," replied the pursuivant. "I
have just learnt that you were last night at Ordsall Hall, the seat of
that 'dangerous temporiser,'--for so he is designated in my
warrant,--Sir William Radcliffe. And if report speaks truly, you are not
altogether insensible to the charms of his fair daughter, Viviana."
"What is this to thee, thou malapert knave?" cried Humphrey Chetham,
reddening, partly from anger, partly, it might be, from another emotion.
"Much, as you shall presently find, good Master
Wolf-in-sheep's-clothing," retorted the pursuivant; "if you prove not a
rank Papist at heart, then do I not know a true man from a false."
This angry conference was cut short by a piercing scream from the
prophetess. Breaking from the grasp of her captors, who were about to
force her into the prison, she sprang with a single bound upon the
parapet of the bridge; and utterly regardless of her dangerous position,
turned, and faced the soldiers, who were struck mute with astonishment.
"Tremble!" she cried, in a loud voice,--"tremble, ye evil-doers! Ye who
have despoiled the house of God,--have broken his altars,--scattered his
incense,--slain his priests. Tremble, I say. The avenger is arrived. The
bolt is in his hand. It shall strike king, lords, commons,--all! These
are my last words,--take them to heart."
"Drag her off!" roared the pursuivant, furiously.
"Use care--use gentleness, if ye are men!" cried Humphrey Chetham.
"Think not you can detain me!" cried the prophetess. "Avaunt, and
tremble!"
So saying she flung herself from the parapet.
The height from which she fell was about fifty feet. Dashed into the air
like jets from a fountain by the weight and force of the descending
body, the water instantly closed over her. But she rose to the surface
of the stream, about twenty yards below the bridge.
"She may yet be saved," cried Humphrey Chetham, who with the by-standers
had hurried to the side of the bridge.
"You will only preserve her for the gallows," observed the pursuivant.
"Your malice shall not prevent my making the attempt," replied the young
merchant. "Ha! assistance is at hand."
The exclamation was occasioned by the sudden appearance of the soldier
in the Spanish dress, who rushed towards the left bank of the river,
which was here, as elsewhere, formed of red sandstone rock, and
following the course of the current, awaited the next appearance of the
drowning woman. It did not occur till she had been carried a
considerable distance down the stream, when the soldier, swiftly
divesting himself of his cloak, plunged into the water, and dragged her
ashore.
"Follow me," cried the pursuivant to his attendants. "I will not lose my
prey."
But before he gained the bank of the river, the soldier and his charge
had disappeared, nor could he detect any traces of them.