THE COLLEGIATE CHURCH AT MANCHESTER.
Bidding Kelley remain with Guy Fawkes, Doctor Dee signified to Viviana
that he had a few words to say to her in private before his departure,
and leading the way to an adjoining room, informed her that he was aware
of her desire to have her father's remains interred in the Collegiate
Church, and that, so far from opposing her inclinations, he would
willingly accede to them, only recommending as a measure of prudence
that the ceremonial should be performed at night, and with as much
secrecy as possible. Viviana thanked him in a voice of much emotion for
his kindness, and entirely acquiesced in his suggestion of caution. At
the same time, she could not help expressing her surprise that her
thoughts should be known to him. "Though, indeed," she added, "after the
wonderful exhibition I have just witnessed of your power, I can scarcely
suppose that any limits are to be placed to it."
"Few things are hidden from me," replied Dee, with a gratified smile;
"even the lighter matters of the heart, in which I might be supposed to
take little interest, do not altogether elude my observation. In
reference to this, you will not, I am sure be offended with me, Viviana,
if I tell you I have noticed with some concern the attachment that has
arisen between you and Humphrey Chetham."
Viviana uttered an exclamation of surprise, and a deep blush suffused
her pallid cheeks.
"I am assuming the privilege of an old man with you, Viviana," continued
Dee, in a graver tone, "and I may add, of an old friend,--for your
lamented mother was one of my dearest and best friends, as you perchance
called to mind, when you sent me to-day, by Mr. Catesby, the token I
gave her years ago. You have done unwisely in inviting Humphrey Chetham
to come hither to-night."
"How so?" she faltered.
"Because, if he keeps his appointment, fatal consequences may ensue,"
answered Dee. "Your message has reached the ears of one from whom,--most
of all,--you should have concealed it."
"Mr. Catesby has heard of it, I know," replied Viviana. "But you do not
apprehend any danger from him?"
"He is Chetham's mortal foe," rejoined Dee, "and will slay him, if he
finds an opportunity."
"You alarm me," she cried. "I will speak to Mr. Catesby on the subject,
and entreat him, as he values my regard, to offer no molestation to his
fancied rival."
"_Fancied_ rival!" echoed Dee, raising his brows contemptuously. "Do you
seek to persuade me that you do not love Humphrey Chetham?"
"Assuredly not," replied Viviana. "I freely acknowledge my attachment to
him. It is as strong as my aversion to Mr. Catesby. But the latter is
aware that the suit of his rival is as hopeless as his own."
"Explain yourself, I pray you?" said Dee.
"My destiny is the cloister,--and this he well knows," she rejoined. "As
soon as my worldly affairs can be arranged, I shall retire to the
English nunnery at Brussels, where I shall vow myself to Heaven."
"Such is your present intention," replied Dee. "But you will never quit
your own country."
"What shall hinder me?" asked Viviana, uneasily.
"Many things," returned Dee. "Amongst others, this meeting with your
lover."
"Call him not by that name, I beseech you, reverend sir," she rejoined.
"Humphrey Chetham will never be other to me than a friend."
"It may be," answered Dee. "But your destiny is _not_ the cloister."
"For what am I reserved, then?" demanded Viviana, trembling.
"All I dare tell you," he returned, "all it is needful for you to know,
is, that your future career is mixed up with that of Guy Fawkes. But do
not concern yourself about what is to come. The present is sufficient to
claim your attention."
"True," replied Viviana; "and my first object shall be to despatch a
messenger to Humphrey Chetham to prevent him from coming hither."
"Trouble yourself no further on that score," returned Dee. "I will
convey the message to him. As regards the funeral, it must take place
without delay. I will be at the south porch of the church with the keys
at midnight, and Robert Burnell, the sexton, and another assistant on
whom I can depend, shall be in attendance. Though it is contrary to my
religious opinions and feelings to allow a Romish priest to perform the
service, I will not interfere with Father Garnet. I owe your mother a
deep debt of gratitude, and will pay it to her husband and her child."
"Thanks!--in _her_ name, thanks!" cried Viviana, in a voice suffocated
by emotion.
"And now," continued Dee, "I would ask you one further question. My art
has made me acquainted that a plot is hatching against the King and his
Government by certain of the Catholic party. Are you favourable to the
design?"
"I am not," replied Viviana, firmly. "Nor can you regard it with more
horror than myself."
"I was sure of it," returned Dee. "Nevertheless, I am glad to have my
supposition confirmed from your own mouth."
With this, he moved towards the door, but Viviana arrested his
departure.
"Stay, reverend sir," she cried, with a look of great uneasiness; "if
you are in possession of this dread secret, the lives of my companions
are in your power. You will not betray them. Or, if you deem it your
duty to reveal the plot to those endangered by it, you will give its
contrivers timely warning."
"Fear nothing," rejoined Dee. "I cannot, were I so disposed, interfere
with the fixed purposes of fate. The things revealed by my familiar
spirits never pass my lips. They are more sacred than the disclosures
made to a priest of your faith at the confessional. The bloody
enterprise on which these zealots are bent will fail. I have warned
Fawkes; but my warning, though conveyed by the lips of the dead, and by
other means equally terrible, was unavailing. I would warn Catesby and
Garnet, but they would heed me not. Viviana Radcliffe," he continued, in
a solemn voice, "you questioned me just now about the future. Have you
courage to make the same demand from your dead father? If so, I will
compel his corpse to answer you."
"Oh! no--no," cried Viviana, horror-stricken; "not for worlds would I
commit so impious an act. Gladly as I would know what fate has in store
for me, nothing should induce me to purchase the knowledge at so
dreadful a price."
"Farewell, then," rejoined Dee. "At midnight, at the south porch of the
Collegiate Church, I shall expect you."
So saying, he took his departure; and, on entering the gallery, he
perceived Catesby hastily retreating.
"Aha!" he muttered. "We have had a listener here. Well, no matter. What
he has heard may prove serviceable to him."
He then returned to the chamber occupied by Guy Fawkes, and finding he
had dropped into a deep and tranquil sleep, motioned Kelley, who was
standing by the bedside watching his slumbers with folded arms, to
follow him, and bowing gravely to Garnet quitted the hall.
As he crossed the court, on his way to the drawbridge, Catesby suddenly
threw himself in his path, and laying his hand upon his sword, cried in
a menacing voice,--"Doctor Dee, neither you nor your companion shall
quit the hall till you have solemnly sworn not to divulge aught
pertaining to the plot, of which you have so mysteriously obtained
information."
"Is this my recompence for rescuing your comrade from the jaws of death,
sir?" replied Dee, sternly.
"The necessity of the case must plead its excuse," rejoined Catesby. "My
own safety, and the safety of those leagued with me, require that I
should be peremptory in my demand. Did I not owe you a large debt of
gratitude for your resuscitation of Guy Fawkes, I would have insured
your secrecy with your life. As it is, I will be content with your
oath."
"Fool!" exclaimed Dee, "stand aside, or I will compel you to do so."
"Think not to terrify me by idle threats," returned Catesby. "I
willingly acknowledge your superior skill,--as, indeed, I have good
reason to do,--in the science of medicine; but I have no faith in your
magical tricks. A little reflection has shown me how the knowledge I at
first thought so wonderful was acquired. You obtained it by means of
Martin Heydocke, who, mounted on a swift steed, reached the College
before me. He told you of the object of my visit,--of Viviana's wish to
have her father interred in the Collegiate Church,--of her message to
Humphrey Chetham. You were, therefore, fully prepared for my arrival,
and at first, I must confess, completely imposed upon me. Nay, had I not
overheard your conversation just now with Viviana, I might have remained
your dupe still. But your allusion to Chetham's visit awakened my
suspicions, and, on re-considering the matter, the whole trick flashed
upon me."
"What more?" demanded Dee, his brow lowering, and his eyes sparkling
with rage.
"Thus much," returned Catesby. "I have your secret, and you have mine.
And though the latter is the more important, inasmuch as several lives
hang upon it, whereas a conjuror's worthless reputation is alone
dependent on the other, yet both must be kept. Swear, then, not to
reveal the plot, and in my turn I will take any oath you choose to
dictate not to disclose the jugglery I have detected."
"I will make no terms with you," returned Dee; "and if I do not reveal
your damnable plot, it is not from consideration of you or your
associates, but because the hour for its disclosure is not yet arrived.
When full proof of your guilt can be obtained, then rest assured it will
be made known,--though not by me. Not one of your number shall
escape--not one."
Catesby again laid his hand upon his sword, and seemed from his looks to
be meditating the destruction of the Doctor and his assistant. But they
appeared wholly unconcerned at his glances.
"What you have said concerning Martin Heydocke is false--as false as
your own foul and bloody scheme," pursued Dee. "I have neither seen, nor
spoken with him."
"But your assistant, Edward Kelley, has," retorted Catesby, "and that
amounts to the same thing."
"For the third and last time I command you to stand aside," cried Dee,
in a tone of concentrated anger.
Catesby laughed aloud.
"What if I refuse?" he said, in a jeering voice.
Doctor Dee made no answer; but, suddenly drawing a small phial from
beneath his robe, cast its contents in his opponent's face. Blinded by
the spirit, Catesby raised his hand to his eyes, and while in this
condition a thick cloth was thrown over his head from behind, and,
despite his resistance, he was borne off, and bound with a strong cord
to an adjoining tree.
Half an hour elapsed, during which he exhausted his fury in vain
outcries for assistance, and execrations and menaces against Dee and his
companion. At the expiration of that time, hearing steps approaching, he
called loudly to be released, and was answered by the voice of Martin
Heydocke.
"What! is it your worship I behold?" cried Martin, in a tone of affected
commiseration. "Mercy on us! what has happened? Have the rascally
searchers been here again?"
"Hold your peace, knave, and unbind me," rejoined Catesby, angrily. "I
shrewdly suspect," he added, as his commands were obeyed, and the cord
twined around his arms unfastened, and the cloth removed,--"I shrewdly
suspect," he said, fixing a stern glance upon Martin, which effectually
banished the smile from his demure countenance, "that you have had some
share in this business."
"What I, your worship?" exclaimed Martin. "Not the slightest, I assure
you. It was by mere chance I came this way, and, perceiving some one
tied to a tree, was about to take to my heels, when, fancying I
recognised your worship's well-formed legs, I ventured forward."
"You shall become more intimately acquainted with my worship's boots,
rascal, if I find my suspicions correct," rejoined Catesby. "Have you
the effrontery to tell me you have never seen this rope and this cloth
before?"
"Certes, I have, your worship," replied Martin. "May the first hang me,
and the last serve as my winding-sheet, if I speak not the truth! Ah,
now I look again," he added, pretending to examine them, "it must be a
horse-cloth and halter from the stable. Peradventure, I _have_ seen
them."
"That I will be sworn you have, and used them too," rejoined Catesby. "I
am half inclined to tie you to the tree in my place. But where is your
employer?--where is Doctor Dee?"
"Doctor Dee is _not_ my employer," answered Martin, "neither do I serve
him. Mr. Humphrey Chetham, as I have already told your worship, is my
master. As to the Doctor, he left the hall some time since. Father
Garnet thought you had accompanied him on the road. I have seen nothing
of him. Of a truth I have not."
Catesby reflected a moment, and then strode towards the hall, while
Martin, with a secret smile, picked up the halter and cloth, and
withdrew to the stable.
Repairing to the chamber of the wounded man, Catesby found Garnet
seated by his couch, and related what had occurred. The Jesuit listened
with profound attention to the recital, and on its conclusion
observed,--
"I am sorry you have offended Doctor Dee, my son. He might have proved a
good friend. As it is, you have made him a dangerous enemy."
"He was not to be trusted, father," returned Catesby. "But if you have
any fears of him, or Kelley, I will speedily set them at rest."
"No violence, my son," rejoined Garnet. "You will only increase the
mischief you have already occasioned. I do not think Dee will betray us.
But additional circumspection will be requisite. Tarry here while I
confer with Viviana on this subject. She has apparently some secret
influence with the Doctor, and may be prevailed upon to exert it in our
behalf."
It was long before Garnet returned. When he reappeared, his looks
convinced Catesby that the interview had not proved satisfactory.
"Your imprudence has placed us in a perilous position, my son," he
observed. "Viviana refuses to speak to Doctor Dee on the subject, and
strongly reprobates your conduct."
Catesby's brow lowered.
"There is but one course to pursue," he muttered, rising; "our lives or
his must be sacrificed. I will act at once."
"Hold!" exclaimed Garnet authoritatively. "Wait till to-morrow and, if
aught occurs in the interim to confirm your suspicions, do as you think
proper. I will not oppose you."
"If I forbear so long," returned Catesby, "it will not be safe to remain
here."
"I will risk it," said Garnet, "and I counsel you to do the same. You
will not leave Viviana at this strait."
"I have no such thoughts," replied Catesby. "If I go, she goes too."
"Then it will be in vain, I am sure, to endeavour to induce her to
accompany you till her father is interred," observed Garnet.
"True," replied Catesby; "I had forgotten that. We shall meet the hoary
juggler at the church, and an opportunity may occur for executing my
purpose there. Unless he will swear at the altar not to betray us, he
shall die by my hand."
"An oath in such a case would be no security, my son," returned Garnet;
"and his slaughter and that of his companion would be equally
inefficacious, and greatly prejudicial to our cause. If he means to
betray us, he has done so already. But I have little apprehension. I do
not think him well affected towards the government, and I cannot but
think, if you had not thus grossly insulted him, he would have favoured
rather than opposed our design. If he was aware of the plot, and
adverse to it, what need was there to exert his skill in behalf of our
dying friend, who, but for him, would have been, ere this, a lump of
lifeless clay? No, no, my son. You are far too hasty in your judgment.
Nor am I less surprised at your injustice. Overlooking the great benefit
conferred upon us, because some trifling scheme has been thwarted, you
would requite our benefactor by cutting his throat."
"Your rebuke is just, father," returned Catesby. "I have acted
heedlessly. But I will endeavour to repair my error."
"Enough, my son," replied Garnet. "It will be advisable to go well armed
to the church to-night, for fear of a surprise. But I shall not absent
myself on that account."
"Nor I," rejoined Catesby.
The conversation was then carried on, on other topics, when they were
interrupted by the entrance of Viviana, who came to consult them about
the funeral. It was arranged--since better could not be found--that the
vehicle used to bring thither the body of the unfortunate knight should
transport it to its last home. No persuasions of Garnet could induce
Viviana to relinquish the idea of attending the ceremony; and Catesby,
though he affected the contrary, secretly rejoiced at her determination.
Night came, and all was in readiness. Viviana to the last indulged a
hope that Humphrey Chetham would arrive in time to attend the funeral
with her; but, as he did not appear, she concluded he had received
Doctor Dee's warning. Martin Heydocke was left in charge of Guy Fawkes,
who still continued to slumber deeply, and, when within half an hour of
the appointed time, the train set out.
They were all well mounted, and proceeded at a slow pace along the lane
skirting the west bank of the Irwell. The night was profoundly dark;
and, as it was not deemed prudent to carry torches, some care was
requisite to keep in the right road. Catesby rode first, and was
followed by Garnet and Viviana, after whom came the little vehicle
containing the body. The rear was brought up by three of the servants
sent by Sir Everard Digby; a fourth acting as driver of the sorry
substitute for a hearse. Not a word was uttered by any of the party. In
this stealthy manner was the once-powerful and wealthy Sir William
Radcliffe, the owner of the whole district through which they were
passing, conveyed to the burial-place of his ancestors!
In shorter time than they had allowed themselves for the journey, the
melancholy cavalcade reached Salford Bridge, and crossing it at a quick
pace, as had been previously arranged by Catesby, arrived without
molestation or notice (for no one was abroad in the town at that hour)
at the southern gate of the Collegiate Church, where, it may be
remembered, Guy Fawkes had witnessed the execution of the two seminary
priests, and on the spikes of which their heads and dismembered bodies
were now fixed. An old man here presented himself, and, unlocking the
gate, informed them he was Robert Burnell, the sexton. The shell was
then taken out, and borne on the shoulders of the servants towards the
church, Burnell leading the way. Garnet followed; and as soon as Catesby
had committed the horses to the care of the driver of the carriage, he
tendered his arm to Viviana, who could scarcely have reached the sacred
structure unsupported.
Doctor Dee met them at the church porch, as he had appointed, and, as
soon as they had passed through it, the door was locked. Addressing a
few words in an under tone to Viviana, but not deigning to notice either
of her companions, Dee directed the bearers of the body to follow him,
and proceeded towards the choir.
The interior of the reverend and beautiful fane was buried in profound
gloom, and the feeble light diffused by the sexton's lantern only made
the darkness more palpable. On entering the broad and noble nave nothing
could be seen of its clustered pillars, or of the exquisite pointed
arches, enriched with cinquefoil and quatrefoil, inclosing blank
shields, which they supported. Neither could its sculptured cornice; its
clerestory windows; its upper range of columns, supporting demi-angels
playing on musical instruments; its moulded roof crossed by transverse
beams, enriched in the interstices with sculptured ornaments, be
distinguished. Most of these architectural glories were invisible; but
the very gloom in which they were shrouded was imposing. As the dim
light fell upon pillar after pillar as they passed, revealing their
mouldings, piercing a few feet into the side aisles, and falling upon
the grotesque heads, the embattled ornaments and grotesque tracery of
the arches, the effect was inexpressibly striking.
Nor were the personages inappropriate to the sombre scene. The reverend
figure of Dee, with his loose flowing robe and long white beard; the
priestly garb and grave aspect of Garnet; the soldier-like bearing of
Catesby, his armed heel and rapier-point clanking upon the pavement; the
drooping figure of Viviana, whose features were buried in her kerchief,
and whose sobs were distinctly audible; the strangely-fashioned coffin,
and the attendants by whom it was borne;--all constituted a singular,
and, at the same time, deeply-interesting picture.
Approaching the magnificent screen terminating the nave, they passed
through an arched gateway within it, and entered the choir. The west-end
of this part of the church was assigned as the burial-place of the
ancient and honourable family, the head of which was about to be
deposited within it, and was designated from the circumstance, the
"Radcliffe chancel." A long slab of grey marble, in which a brass plate,
displaying the armorial bearings of the Radcliffes, was inserted, had
been removed, and the earth thrown out of the cavity beneath it.
Kelley, who had assisted in making the excavation, was standing beside
it, leaning on a spade, with a lantern at his feet. He drew aside as the
funeral train approached, and the shell was deposited at the edge of the
grave.
Picturesque and striking as was the scene in the nave, it fell far short
of that now exhibited. The choir of the Collegiate Church at Manchester
may challenge comparison with any similar structure. Its thirty
elaborately-carved stalls, covered with canopies of the richest
tabernacle work, surmounted by niches, mouldings, pinnacles, and
perforated tracery, and crowned with a richly-sculptured cornice; its
side aisles, with their pillars and arches; its moulded ceiling rich in
the most delicate and fairy tracery; its gorgeous altar-screen of carved
oak; and its magnificent eastern window, then filled with stained glass,
form a _coup-d'oeil_ of almost unequalled splendour and beauty. Few of
these marvels could now be seen. But such points of the pinnacles and
hanging canopies of the stalls, of the facades of the side-aisles, and
of the fretted roof, as received any portion of the light, came in with
admirable effect.
"All is prepared, you perceive," observed Dee to Viviana. "I will retire
while the ceremony is performed." And gravely inclining his head, he
passed through an arched door in the south aisle, and entered the
chapter-house.
Garnet was about to proceed with the service appointed by the Romish
Church for the burial of the dead, when Viviana, uttering a loud cry,
would have fallen, if Catesby had not flown to her assistance, and borne
her to one of the stalls. Recovering her self-possession the next
moment, she entreated him to leave her; and while the service proceeded,
she knelt down and prayed fervently for the soul of the departed.
Placing himself at the foot of the body, Garnet sprinkled it with holy
water, which he had brought with him in a small silver consecrated
vessel. He then recited the _De Profundis_, the _Miserere_, and other
antiphons and prayers; placed incense in a burner, which he had likewise
brought with him, and having lighted it, bowed reverently towards the
altar, sprinkled the body thrice with holy water, at the sides, at the
head, and the feet; and then walking round it with the incense-burner,
dispersed its fragrant odour over it. This done, he recited another
prayer, pronounced a solemn benediction over the place of sepulture, and
the body was lowered into it.
The noise of the earth falling upon the shell aroused Viviana from her
devotions. She looked towards the grave, but could see nothing but the
gloomy group around it, prominent among which appeared the tall figure
of Catesby. The sight was too much for her, and, unable to control her
grief, she fainted. Meanwhile, the grave was rapidly filled, all lending
their aid to the task; and nothing was wanting but to restore the slab
to its original position. By the united efforts of Catesby, Kelley, and
the sexton, this was soon accomplished, and the former, unaware of what
had happened, was about to proceed to Viviana, to tell her all was over,
when he was arrested by a loud knocking at the church door, accompanied
by a clamorous demand for admittance.
"We are betrayed!" exclaimed Catesby. "It is as I suspected. Take care
of Viviana, father. I will after the hoary impostor, and cleave his
skull! Extinguish the lights--quick! quick!"
Garnet hastily complied with these injunctions, and the choir was
plunged in total darkness. He then rushed to the stalls, but could
nowhere find Viviana. He called her by name, but received no answer, and
was continuing his fruitless search, when he heard footsteps
approaching, and the voice of Catesby exclaimed,
"Follow me with your charge, father."
"Alas! my son, she is not here," replied Garnet. "I have searched each
stall as carefully as I could in the dark. I fear she has been spirited
away."
"Impossible!" cried Catesby. And he ran his hand along the row of
sculptured seats, but without success. "She is indeed gone!" he
exclaimed distractedly. "It was here I left her--nay, here I beheld her
at the very moment the lights were extinguished. Viviana!--Viviana!"
But all was silent.
"It is that cursed magician's handiwork!" he continued, striking his
forehead in despair.
"Did you find him?" demanded Garnet.
"No," replied Catesby. "The door of the chapter-house was locked inside.
The treacherous villain did well to guard against my fury."
"You provoked his resentment, my son," rejoined Garnet. "But this is not
a season for reproaches. Something must be done. Where is Kelley?"
At the suggestion, Catesby instantly darted to the spot where the seer
had stood. He was not there. He then questioned the servants, whose
teeth were chattering with fright, but they had neither heard him
depart, nor could tell anything about him; and perceiving plainly from
their trepidation that these men would lend no aid, even if they did not
join the assailants, he returned to communicate his apprehensions to
Garnet.
During all this time the knocking and vociferations at the door had
continued with increased violence, and reverberated in hollow peals
along the roof and aisles of the church.
The emergency was a fearful one. Catesby, however, had been too often
placed in situations of peril, and was too constitutionally brave, to
experience much uneasiness for himself; but his apprehensions lest
Garnet should be captured, and the sudden and mysterious disappearance
of Viviana almost distracted him. Persuading himself she might have
fallen to the ground, or that he had overlooked the precise spot where
he had left her, he renewed his search, but with no better success than
before; and he was almost beginning to believe that some magic might
have been practised to cause her disappearance, when it occurred to him
that she had been carried off by Kelley.
"Fool that I was, not to think of that before!" he exclaimed. "I have
unintentionally aided their project by extinguishing the lights. But now
that I am satisfied she is gone, I can devote my whole energies to the
preservation of Garnet. They shall not capture us so easily as they
anticipate."
With this, he approached the priest, and grasping his hand drew him
noislessly along. They had scarcely passed through the arched doorway in
the screen, and set foot within the nave, when the clamour without
ceased. The next moment a thundering crash was heard; the door burst
open, and a number of armed figures bearing torches, with drawn swords
in their hands, rushed with loud vociferations into the church.
"We must surrender, my son," cried Garnet. "It will be useless to
contend against that force."
"But we may yet escape them," rejoined Catesby. And glancing hastily
round he perceived a small open door in the wall at the right, and
pointing it out to the priest, hurried towards it.
On reaching it, they found it communicated with a flight of stone steps,
evidently leading to the roof.
"Saved! saved!" cried Catesby, triumphantly. "Mount first, father. I
will defend the passage."
The pursuers, who saw the course taken by the fugitives, set up a loud
shout, and ran as swiftly as they could in the same direction, and by
the time the latter had gained the door they were within a few yards of
it. Garnet darted up the steps; but Catesby lingered to make fast the
door, and thus oppose some obstacle to the hostile party. His efforts,
however, were unexpectedly checked, and, on examination, he found it was
hooked to the wall at the back. Undoing the fastening, the door swung
to, and he instantly bolted it. Overjoyed at his success, and leaving
his pursuers, who at this moment arrived, to vent their disappointment
in loud menaces, he hastened after Garnet. Calling loudly to him, he was
answered from a small dark chamber on the right, into which the priest
had retreated.
"We have but prolonged our torture," groaned Garnet. "I can find no
outlet. Our foes will speedily force an entrance, and we must then fall
into their hands."
"There must be some door opening upon the roof, father," rejoined
Catesby. "Mount as high as you can, and search carefully. I will defend
the stairs, and will undertake to maintain my post against the whole
rout."
Thus urged, Garnet ascended the steps. After the lapse of a few minutes,
during which the thundering at the door below increased, and the heavy
blows of some weighty implement directed against it, were distinctly
heard, he cried,
"I have found a door, but the bolts are rusty--I cannot move them."
"Use all your strength, father," shouted Catesby, who having planted
himself with his drawn sword at an advantageous point, was listening
with intense anxiety to the exertions of the assailing party. "Do not
relax your efforts for a moment."
"It is in vain, my son," rejoined Garnet, in accents of despair. "My
hands are bruised and bleeding, but the bolts stir not."
"Distraction!" cried Catesby, gnashing his teeth with rage. "Let me
try."
And he was about to hasten to the priest's assistance, when the door
below was burst open with a loud crash, and the assailants rushed up the
steps. The passage was so narrow that they were compelled to mount
singly, and Catesby's was scarcely a vain boast when he said he could
maintain his ground against the whole host. Shouting to Garnet to renew
his efforts, he prepared for the assault. Reserving his petronels to the
last, he trusted solely to his rapier, and leaning against the newel, or
circular column round which the stairs twined, he was in a great measure
defended from the weapons of his adversaries, while they were completely
exposed to his attack. The darkness, moreover, in which he was enveloped
offered an additional protection, whereas the torches they carried made
his mark certain. As soon as the foremost of the band came within reach,
Catesby plunged his sword into his breast, and pushed him back with all
his force upon his comrades. The man fell heavily backwards, dislodging
the next in advance, who in his turn upset his successor, and so on,
till the whole band was thrown into confusion. A discharge of fire-arms
followed; but, sheltered by the newel, Catesby sustained no injury. At
this moment, he was cheered by a cry from Garnet that he had succeeded
in forcing back the bolts, terror having supplied him with a strength
not his own; and, making another sally upon his assailants, amid the
disorder that ensued, Catesby retreated, and rapidly tracking the steps,
reached the door, through which the priest had already passed. When
within a short distance of the outlet, Catesby felt, from the current of
fresh air that saluted him, that it opened upon the roof of the church.
Nor was he deceived. A few steps placed him upon the leads, where he
found Garnet.
"It is you, my son," cried the latter, on beholding him; "I thought
from the shouts you had fallen into the hands of the enemy."
"No, Heaven be praised! I am as yet safe, and trust to deliver you out
of their hands. Come with me to the battlements."
"The battlements!" exclaimed Garnet. "A leap from such a height as that
were certain destruction."
"It were so," replied Catesby, dragging him along. "But trust to me, and
you shall yet reach the ground uninjured."
Arrived at the battlements, Catesby leaned over them, and endeavoured to
ascertain what was beneath. It was still so dark that he could scarcely
discern any objects but those close to him, but as far as he could trust
his vision, he thought he perceived a projecting building some twelve or
fourteen feet below; and calling to mind the form of the church, which
he had frequently seen and admired, he remembered its chantries, and had
no doubt but it was the roof of one of them that he beheld. If he could
reach it, the descent from thence would be easy, and he immediately
communicated the idea to Garnet, who shrank aghast from it. Little time,
however, was allowed for consideration. Their pursuers had already
scaled the stairs, and were springing one after another upon the leads,
uttering the most terrible threats against the destroyer of their
comrade. Hastily divesting himself of his cloak, Catesby clambered over
the battlements, and, impelled by fear, Garnet threw off his robe, and
followed his example. Clinging to the grotesque stone waterspouts which
projected below the battlements, and placing the points of his feet upon
the arches of the clerestory windows, and thence upon the mullions and
transom bars, Catesby descended in safety, and then turned to assist his
companion, who was quickly by his side.
The most difficult and dangerous part of the descent had yet to be
accomplished. They were now nearly thirty feet from the ground, and the
same irregularities in the walls which had favoured them in the upper
structure did not exist in the lower. But their present position,
exposed as it was to their pursuers, who, having reached the point
immediately overhead, were preparing to fire upon them, was too
dangerous to allow of its occupation for a moment, and Garnet required
no urging to make him clamber over the low embattled parapet. Descending
a flying buttress that defended an angle of the building, Catesby, who
was possessed of great strength and activity, was almost instantly upon
the ground. Garnet was not so fortunate. Missing his footing, he fell
from a considerable height, and his groans proclaimed that he had
received some serious injury. Catesby instantly flew to him, and
demanded, in a tone of the greatest anxiety, whether he was much hurt.
"My right arm is broken," gasped the sufferer, raising himself with
difficulty. "What other injuries I have sustained I know not; but every
joint seems dislocated, and my face is covered with blood. Heaven have
pity on me!"
As he spoke, a shout of exultation arose from the hostile party, who,
having heard Garnet's fall, and the groans that succeeded it, at once
divined the cause, and made sure of a capture. A deep silence followed,
proving that they had quitted the roof, and were hastening to secure
their prey.
Aware that it would take them some little time to descend the winding
staircase, and traverse the long aisle of the church, Catesby felt
certain of distancing them. But he could not abandon Garnet, who had
become insensible from the agony of his fractured limb, and, lifting him
carefully in his arms, he placed him upon his shoulder, and started at a
swift pace towards the further extremity of the churchyard.
At the period of this history, the western boundary of the Collegiate
Church was formed by a precipitous sandstone rock of great height, the
base of which was washed by the waters of the Irwell, while its summit
was guarded by a low stone wall. In after years, a range of small
habitations was built upon this spot, but they have been recently
removed, and the rock having been lowered, a road now occupies their
site. Nerved by desperation, Catesby, who was sufficiently well
acquainted with the locality to know whither he was shaping his course,
determined to hazard a descent, which, under calmer circumstances, he
would have deemed wholly impracticable. His pursuers, who issued from
the church porch a few seconds after he had passed it, saw him hurry
towards the low wall edging the precipice, and, encumbered as he was
with the priest, vault over it. Not deeming it possible he would dare to
spring from such a height, they darted after him. But they were
deceived, and could scarcely credit their senses when they found him
gone. By the light of their torches they perceived him shooting down the
almost perpendicular side of the rock, and the next moment a hollow
plunge told that he had reached the water. They stared at each other in
mute astonishment.
"Will you follow him, Dick Haughton?" observed one, as soon as he had
recovered his speech.
"Not I," replied the fellow addressed. "I have no fancy for a broken
neck. Follow him thyself if thou hast a mind to try the soundness of thy
pate. I warrant that rock will put it to the proof."
"Yet the feat has just been done, and by one burthened with a wounded
comrade into the bargain," remarked the first speaker.
"He must be the devil, that's certain," rejoined Haughton; "and Doctor
Dee himself is no match for him."
"He has the Devil's luck, that's certain," cried a third soldier. "But,
hark! he is swimming across the river. We may yet catch him on the
opposite bank. Come along, comrades."
With this, they rushed out of the churchyard; made the best of their way
to the bridge; and crossing it, flew to the bank of the river, where
they dispersed in every direction, in search for the fugitive. But they
could not discover a trace of him or his wounded companion.