THE SEARCH.
Immediately after Catesby's departure, Heydocke was summoned to his
mistress's presence. He found her with the priest, and was informed that
in all probability the house would be visited that night by the
messengers of the Privy Council. The old steward received the
intelligence as he might have done his death-warrant, and looked so
bewildered and affrighted, that Viviana half repented having acquainted
him with it.
"Compose yourself, Master Heydocke," she said, trying to reason him out
of his fears; "the search may not take place. And if it does, there is
nothing to be alarmed at. I am not afraid, you perceive."
"Nothing to be alarmed at, my dear young lady!" gasped the steward. "You
have never witnessed a midnight search for a priest by these ruffianly
catchpoles, as I have, or you would not say so. Father Oldcorne will
comprehend my uneasiness, and excuse it. The miscreants break into the
house like robbers, and treat its inmates worse than robbers would treat
them. They have no regard for decency,--no consideration for sex,--no
respect for persons. Not a chamber is sacred from them. If a door is
bolted, they burst it open; a cabinet locked, they tarry not for the
key. They pull down the hangings, thrust their rapier-points into the
crevices of the wainscot, discharge their fire-arms against the wall,
and sometimes threaten to pull down the house itself, if the object of
their quest be not delivered to them. Their oaths, abominations, and
menaces are horrible; and their treatment of females, even of your
degree, honoured mistress, too barbarous to relate. Poor Lady Nevil died
of the fright she got by such a visit at dead of night to her residence
in Holborn. Mrs. Vavasour, of York, lost her senses; and many others
whom I could mention have been equal sufferers. Nothing to be alarmed
at! Heaven grant, my dear, dear young lady, that you may never be
fatally convinced to the contrary!"
"Suppose my apprehensions are as great as your own, Master Heydocke,"
replied Viviana, who, though somewhat infected by his terrors, still
maintained her firmness; "I do not see how the danger is to be averted
by idle lamentations and misgivings. We must meet it boldly; and trust
to Him who is our only safeguard in the hour of peril, for protection.
Do not alarm the household, but let all retire to rest as usual."
"Right, daughter," observed the priest. "Preparations for resistance
would only excite suspicion."
"Can you depend on the servants, in case they are examined?" asked
Viviana of the steward, who by this time had partially recovered his
composure.
"I think so," returned Heydocke; "but the threats of the officers are so
dreadful, and their conduct so violent and outrageous, that I can
scarcely answer for myself. I would not advise your reverence to remain
in that hiding-place," he added, pointing to the chimney-piece; "they
are sure to discover it."
"If not here, where shall I conceal myself?" rejoined Oldcorne,
uneasily.
"There are many nooks in which your reverence might hide," replied the
steward; "but the knaves are so crafty, and so well experienced in their
vocation, that I dare not recommend any of them as secure. I would
advise you to remain on the watch, and, in case of alarm, I will conduct
you to the oratory in the north gallery, adjoining Mistress Viviana's
sleeping-chamber, where there is a panel in the wall, known only to
myself and my master, opening upon a secret passage running many hundred
yards underground, and communicating with a small outbuilding on the
other side of the moat. There is a contrivance in this passage, which I
will explain to your reverence if need be, which will cut off any
possibility of pursuit in that quarter."
"Be it so," replied the priest. "I place myself in your hands, good
Master Heydocke, well assured of your fidelity. I shall remain
throughout the night in this chamber, occupied in my devotions."
"You will suffer me to pray with you, father, I trust?" said Viviana.
"If you desire it, assuredly, dear daughter," rejoined Oldcorne; "but I
am unwilling you should sacrifice your rest."
"It will be no sacrifice, father, for I should not slumber, even if I
sought my couch," she returned. "Go, good Heydocke. Keep vigilant watch:
and, if you hear the slightest noise without, fail not to give us
warning."
The steward bowed, and departed.
Some hours elapsed, during which nothing occurred to alarm Viviana and
her companion, who consumed the time in prayer and devout conversation;
when, just at the stroke of two,--as the former was kneeling before her
spiritual adviser, and receiving absolution for the slight offences of
which a being so pure-minded could be supposed capable,--a noise like
the falling of a bar of iron was heard beneath the window. The priest
turned pale, and cast a look of uneasiness at the maiden, who said
nothing, but snatching up the light, and motioning him to remain quiet,
hurried out of the room in search of the steward. He was nowhere to be
found. In vain, she examined all the lower rooms,--in vain, called to
him by name. No answer was returned.
Greatly terrified, she was preparing to retrace her steps, when she
heard the sound of muttered voices in the hall. Extinguishing her light,
she advanced to the door, which was left ajar, and, taking care not to
expose herself to observation, beheld several armed figures, some of
whom bore dark lanterns, while others surrounded and menaced with their
drawn swords the unfortunate steward. From their discourse she
ascertained that, having thrown a plank across the moat, and concealed
themselves within the garden until they had reconnoitred the premises,
they had contrived to gain admittance unperceived through the window of
a small back room, in which they had surprised Heydocke, who had fallen
asleep on his post, and captured him. One amongst their number, who
appeared to act as leader, and whom, from his garb, and the white wand
he carried, Viviana knew must be a pursuivant, now proceeded to
interrogate the prisoner. To every question proposed to him the steward
shook his head; and, in spite of the threats of the examinant, and the
blows of his followers, he persisted in maintaining silence.
"If we cannot make this contumacious rascal speak, we will find others
more tractable," observed the pursuivant. "I will not leave any corner
of the house unvisited; nor a soul within it unquestioned. Ah! here they
come!"
As he spoke, several of the serving-men, with some of the female
domestics, who had been alarmed by the noise, rushed into the hall, and
on seeing it filled with armed men, were about to retreat, when they
were instantly seized and detained. A scene of great confusion now
ensued. The women screamed and cried for mercy, while the men struggled
and fought with their captors. Commanding silence at length, the
pursuivant proclaimed in the King's name that whoever would guide him to
the hiding-place of Father Oldcorne, a Jesuit priest, whom it was known,
and could be proved, was harboured within the mansion, should receive a
free pardon and reward; while those who screened him, or connived at his
concealment, were liable to fine, imprisonment, and even more severe
punishment. Each servant was then questioned separately. But, though all
were more or less rudely dealt with, no information could be elicited.
Meanwhile, Viviana was a prey to the most intolerable anxiety. Unable to
reach Father Oldcorne without crossing the hall, which she did not dare
to attempt, she gave him up for lost; her sole hope being that, on
hearing the cries of the domestics, he would provide for his own safety.
Her anxiety was still farther increased when the pursuivant, having
exhausted his patience by fruitless interrogatories, and satisfied his
malice by frightening two of the females into fits, departed with a
portion of his band to search the house, leaving the rest as a guard
over the prisoners.
Viviana then felt that, if she would save Father Oldcorne, the attempt
must be made without a moment's delay, and at any hazard. Watching her
opportunity, when the troopers were occupied,--some in helping
themselves to such viands and liquors as they could lay hands
upon,--some in searching the persons of the prisoners for amulets and
relics,--while others, more humane, were trying to revive the swooning
women, she contrived to steal unperceived across the lower end of the
hall. Having gained the passage, she found to her horror that the
pursuivant and his band were already within the star-chamber. They were
sounding the walls with hammers and mallets, and from their
exclamations, she learnt that they had discovered the retreat behind the
fire-place, and were about to break it open.
"We have him," roared the pursuivant, in a voice of triumph. "The old
owl's roost is here!"
Viviana, who stood at the door, drew in her breath, expecting that the
next moment would inform her that the priest was made captive. Instead
of this, she was delighted to find, from the oaths of rage and
disappointment uttered by the troopers, that he had eluded them.
"He must be in the house, at all events," growled the pursuivant; "nor
is it long since he quitted his hiding-place, as this cushion proves. We
will not go away without him. And now, let us proceed to the upper
chambers."
Hearing their footsteps approach, Viviana darted off, and quickly
ascending the principal staircase, entered a long corridor. Uncertain
what to do, she was about to proceed to her own chamber, and bar the
door, when she felt her arm grasped by a man. With difficulty repressing
a shriek, she strove to disengage herself, when a whisper told her it
was the priest.
"Heaven be praised!" cried Viviana, "you are safe. How--how did you
escape?"
"I flew upstairs on hearing the voices," replied Oldcorne. "But what has
happened to the steward?"
"He is a prisoner," replied Viviana.
"All then is lost, unless you are acquainted with the secret panel he
spoke of in the oratory," rejoined Oldcorne.
"Alas! father, I am wholly ignorant of it," she answered. "But, come
with me into my chamber; they will not dare to invade it."
"I know not that," returned the priest, despairingly. "These
sacrilegious villains would not respect the sanctity of the altar
itself."
"They come!" cried Viviana, as lights were seen at the foot of the
stairs. "Take my hand--this way, father."
They had scarcely gained the room, and fastened the door, when the
pursuivant and his attendants appeared in the corridor. The officer, it
would seem, had been well instructed where to search, or was
sufficiently practised in his duty, for he proceeded at once to several
hiding-places in the different chambers which he visited. In one room he
detected a secret staircase in the wall, which he mounted, and
discovered a small chapel built in the roof. Stripping it of its altar,
its statue of the Virgin, its crucifix, pix, chalice, and other
consecrated vessels, he descended, and continued his search. Viviana's
chamber was now the only one unvisited. Trying the door, and finding it
locked, he tapped against it with his wand.
"Who knocks?" asked the maiden.
"A state-messenger," was the reply. "I demand entrance in the King's
name."
"You cannot have it," she replied. "It is my sleeping-chamber."
"My duty allows me no alternative," rejoined the pursuivant, harshly.
"If you will not admit me quietly, I must use force."
"Do you know to whom you offer this rudeness?" returned Viviana. "I am
the daughter of Sir William Radcliffe."
"I know it," replied the pursuivant; "but I am not exceeding my
authority. I hold a warrant for your father's arrest. And, if he had not
been from home, I should have carried him to prison along with the
Jesuit priest whom, I suspect, is concealed within your chamber. Open
the door, I command you; and do not hinder me in the execution of my
duty."
As no answer was returned to the application, the pursuivant commanded
his men to burst open the door; and the order was promptly obeyed.
The chamber was empty.
On searching it, however, the pursuivant found a door concealed by the
hangings of the bed. It was bolted on the other side, but speedily
yielded to his efforts. Passing through it, he entered upon a narrow
gallery, at the extremity of which his progress was stopped by another
door, likewise fastened on the further side. On bursting it open, he
entered a small oratory, wainscoted with oak, and lighted by an oriel
window filled with stained glass, through which the newly-risen moon was
pouring its full radiance, and discovered the object of his search.
"Father Oldcorne, I arrest you as a Jesuit and a traitor," shouted the
pursuivant, in a voice of exultation. "Seize him!" he added, calling to
his men.
"You shall not take him," cried Viviana, clinging despairingly to the
priest, who offered no resistance, but clasped a crucifix to his breast.
"Leave go your hold, young mistress," rejoined the pursuivant, grasping
Oldcorne by the collar of his vestment, and dragging him along; "and
rest thankful that I make you not, also, my prisoner."
"Take me; but spare him!--in mercy spare him!" shrieked Viviana.
"You solicit mercy from one who knows it not, daughter," observed the
priest. "Lead on, sir. I am ready to attend you."
"Your destination is the New Fleet, father," retorted the pursuivant, in
a tone of bitter raillery; "unless you prefer the cell in Radcliffe Hall
lately vacated by your saintly predecessor, Father Woodroofe."
"Help! help!" shrieked Viviana.
"You may spare your voice, fair lady," sneered the pursuivant. "No help
is at hand. Your servants are all prisoners."
The words were scarcely uttered, when a sliding panel in the wall flew
open, and Guy Fawkes, followed by Humphrey Chetham, and another
personage, sprang through the aperture, and presented a petronel at the
head of the pursuivant.