"Anthony Dalaber taken!" spoke Freda, and her face grew white to
the lips. "Oh, speak, good sir; what will they do to him?"
The monk who stood before the sisters, his cowl drawn over his
face, his hands folded in his sleeves, took up the word again,
which Freda's impulsive ejaculation had interrupted.
"He is not as yet taken prisoner, but he has been commanded to
appear before the prior, and I fear me that is but the first step.
He begged of me to come and tell you, and give you that packet,"
and his eyes rested upon a small parcel which Freda held tightly
between her two hands; "so here am I to do his bidding, without
staying to know what will befall him at the prior's hands. He went
to answer the summons as I came forth hither."
The monk had found the sisters in their garden, having followed
Dalaber's directions, and entered by the little door which he
himself had so ofttimes used. At this hour the sisters were wont,
in fine weather, to take an hour's exercise up and down the
pleasant sheltered walk beneath the wall. Here the monk had found
them, and had presented to Freda a small packet which contained
Dalaber's New Testament, of which he knew full well he would
speedily be deprived, and a few jewels and valuables which he
possessed and desired to make over to her.
"Tell us all that has befallen him!" cried Freda breathlessly.
So far all she had taken in was that Dalaber had been summoned
before the prior, but she felt that more lay behind. The monk was
visibly troubled, and she knew him to be Anthony's friend. He stood
before them with downcast mien and told his tale.
"It was yesterday in the afternoon that Anthony Dalaber came to me
and borrowed a book. I lent it to him, bidding him be careful of
it; and he locked himself into his room, whilst I went my way to
sundry tasks I had to perform, and then on to vespers and compline.
When I returned, Dalaber's chamber door was shut and locked. I went
to mine own room, and presently the young man, a servant of the
college, came in to perform some small duty, and he looked at me
very cunningly, and asked whether I knew that Master Thomas Garret
had been inquiring for me and for Master Dalaber. Having been made
aware that he had already fled from Oxford, I gave no credence to
the young man's words, and this seemed to anger him, for he told me
plainly that Master Garret had come to the college, and had knocked
many times at my door in my absence, and then coming away, had
asked where Dalaber lived; and being directed to his door by this
same youth, he had knocked till he obtained entrance, and had been
shut up with him a great while.
"I was in doubt what to believe, and so said nothing; but later in
the evening I was sent for of the prior, who asked me if I had ever
had speech with Master Garret, and knew aught of him. I told him I
had not seen him this many a day, nor knew that he was in Oxford,
save that the servant had spoken of his having been there this very
day, which I scarce believed. Having questioned me closely, he let
me go, only warning me to have no dealings in the future with so
pestilent a fellow. He saw that I was ignorant of his present
whereabouts, and suffered me to depart with only a rebuke. But I
left in fear and trembling for Anthony Dalaber, if indeed it should
be true what the fellow had said that Master Garret had been shut
up with him.
"I went many times to his room that evening, and sat up far into
the night; but still he did not come, and I was in great fear that
he might have been taken prisoner. I resolved not to seek my bed,
but to pass the night in fasting and prayer on his account; and I
was thus occupied when there was a sound of commotion nigh at hand,
and I heard steps and voices and the sound of blows upon the door
of Dalaber's chamber. I opened mine own door cautiously, having
extinguished my rush light, and I saw that the proctors were there,
together with the prior and various servants of the college. Not
being able to obtain any reply to their summons, they had up a man
with a great bunch of keys; and after some ado they forced open the
door, and forthwith entered the chamber. It was empty of its
occupant; but they were by no means satisfied with that, and made
great search everywhere, tossing everything about in the greatest
confusion, ransacking his chest and flinging his clothes about
hither and thither, examining every chink and cranny, and well-nigh
pulling the bed to pieces in hopes of making some discovery. And
here they did find somewhat, for out tumbled a small bundle that
had been hid in the bedclothes. There was the book which I had lent
him--Lambert on St. Luke--and a gown and hood, which might have
been his own; but so soon as the young man of whom I have spoken
before saw them, he straightway vowed and declared that it was
these things which Master Garret had been wearing when he visited
Anthony Dalaber, and showed them a rent in the shoulder, which he
said he had particularly observed when showing the priest the way.
He had not known till Dalaber opened his door who the visitor was,
but as soon as he knew he went to inform the proctors; and the
chiefest marvel to me is that they tarried so long before visiting
Dalaber's chamber. But belike they made hue and cry after Garret
first. Heaven have mercy upon him if they get him into their
hands!"
"But Anthony, Anthony!" cried Freda, with a quick catch in her
breath--"I pray you tell me of him."
"Verily I will. When they had finished their search, and had got
evidence that Master Garret had been there, they came across to my
chamber and asked me what I knew concerning Dalaber. I did answer
that I knew nothing, but supposed he would shortly return. I did
not believe he had been to his room all night; which thing they did
not seem to believe, and kept gazing all around my room, as though
wondering whether I were not hiding him there. However, as my bare
chamber offered no concealment even for a cat, they had to be
satisfied at last; and they went away, only charging me straitly
that so soon as Dalaber should return, I must tell him to repair
him instantly to the prior, who would have speech of him. This I
promised to do, though with a woeful heart, for I felt that evil
was meant him, and I love him right well."
"Yes, yes; and what followed next?"
"Marry, this--that so soon as ever the college gates were open in
the morning, at five o'clock, in comes Anthony Dalaber himself, his
shoes and hosen all stained with mud, his face pale as though with
watching and anxious thought, though his aspect was calm and
resolute; and he came up the stairs without seeing me, and began to
unlock his door. But the lock had been twisted and bent, and he was
still struggling with it when I came out to him and began to tell
him what had happened. He got his door opened, and the sight he saw
before his eyes confirmed my tale, and he sat down and listened to
all I had to say, very quietly, and without flinching. He told me
that he and certain of the brethren had passed the night together,
in his old lodging at St. Alban Hall, in prayer for grace and
guidance; but that, though they had prayed of him to fly, it had
not seemed good to him to do so; and that he had resolved to return
immediately to his own lodging, and to await there whatever might
befall him."
"My own brave, steadfast Anthony!" spoke Freda beneath her breath,
her eyes shining like stars, but with a glint of tears behind their
brightness.
"So I gave to him the prior's message, and he said he would lose no
time in going to see him. But he knew not when or whether he might
ever return to this place. So he made up that little parcel, and he
gave it into my hands; and in so doing he begged of me that when
eight o'clock had sounded from the steeples, I would myself enter
yonder door and present it to one of the two maidens I should find
walking here, and say that it was a parting gift from Anthony
Dalaber, who was like to be taken of his foes."
The tears suddenly welled over and flowed down Freda's cheeks. It
was Magdalen who found strength to ask:
"What will they do to him? Of what offence can they find him
guilty? All the world speak well of him."
Robert Ferrar slowly shook his head, but made no reply; indeed,
none could say what would befall next. When a man stood in peril of
a charge of heresy his friends could not bear to ask too closely
what might be his ultimate fate. Freda clasped her sister's hands
hard as the monk slowly turned to go.
"Peace be with you! May the Lord help and sustain you," he said, in
his low, earnest voice, "and give to us all the strength to bear
the cross which He may see good to lay upon us!"
He paced with bent head along the walk, and vanished through the
door by which he had come. Freda, with trembling hands, tore open
the packet she had all this while been holding tightly clasped
between them, and when she saw its contents the tears gushed forth.
She sank down upon the seat in the arbour, and the little,
well-worn book fell open at a place where the page had been turned
down. It was that chapter in St. Matthew which Anthony had been
reading after the departure of Garret, and the sisters devoured the
words together, both deeply moved.
"O Magda, Magda, how can I bear it?" cried Freda, laying her head
upon her sister's shoulder; "I had thought to be so brave, so
steadfast. We have spoken of it, and I had thought that in a
righteous cause it would not be hard to suffer. And, in sooth, I
verily believe I could suffer mine own self. But I cannot bear for
him to be alone--for him to have so much laid upon him. O my
Anthony! my Anthony!"
"And it is so little they ask, so little they hold; and our beloved
Master Clarke maintains that the true Catholic Church has forbidden
naught that they would fain see restored--only the liberty to read
and study the living Word for themselves. They are not rebels; they
are not heretics. They love the church, and they are her true sons.
Only they maintain that some errors have crept in of man's
devising, for which no Scripture warrant can be found; and they
know that corruption hath entered even into the sanctuary, and they
would fain see it cleansed. Is that sin? Is that heresy? Then
methinks our Lord must needs have been a heretic and sinner (if it
be not blasphemy to say it), for He would not suffer His Father's
house to be polluted nor made a den of thieves. And what else do
these godly men ask now than that the Christian Church shall be
purified and cleansed of merchandise and barter, and become again a
holy house of prayer, undisturbed by any such things?"
Magdalen had been one of those who had most earnestly drunk in the
teachings of such men as Clarke, who combined an intense and
devoted love of Holy Church with an ardent desire after a purer
spiritual administration. His words to her soul were as words of
life; and one of the things which had first attracted her to Arthur
Cole, and become a bond of sympathy between them, was the deep
admiration and enthusiasm that he always expressed with regard to
Clarke and his doctrine and preaching. Freda had gone somewhat
farther along the road which Anthony was pursuing--the road which
led eventually to a greater upheaval and disruption than at that
day any, save the most ardent foreign reformers, dreamed of. Even
Garret and Dalaber and their companions were as yet ignorant of the
inevitable result of their teaching and convictions. It seemed to
them at this time that such a very little would satisfy them, that
the church could not seriously excommunicate them or persecute them
for what they believed. And yet--and yet--there was a sense of
coming tempest in the very air. And when the sisters, having
recovered their self-control, went indoors to tell their tale to
their father, they saw that he was much disturbed, and that he
considered Anthony's position as very precarious.
Just as they were discussing the matter in all its bearings, and
anxiously wondering when it would be possible to obtain further
news, there was a short summons at the door, and Arthur Cole
entered, with a pale and anxious face. Evidently he saw from their
faces that something had reached them, and his first question was:
"Have you heard the news?"
"That Anthony Dalaber has been summoned before the prior? Yes; his
friend Ferrar brought us that news not long since. But beyond that
we know nothing. Tell us, good Arthur, what is like to befall from
that. Is he in any great peril?"
"I scarce know myself; but I fear, I fear. They are in a great rage
at the escape of Garret; and since he is not to be found, they have
laid hands upon Dalaber, and he is even now at Lincoln College,
where he is to be examined by the commissary and others, with what
result cannot yet be known."
"Then he did not go before the prior?"
"Yes; he did so at the first. News was hastily brought to me by a
clerk from Gloucester College, and I hurried thither in time to
hear much that passed at the prior's court. I have friends amongst
the fellows and monks. I stood just within the door and heard all.
The prior asked him of Garret's visit the day before, and he
confessed the latter had been with him, but had quickly gone forth
again. He was asked whither he had gone, and answered that he had
spoken of Woodstock, where he had a friend amongst the keepers who
had promised him a piece of venison for Shrovetide."
"Was that true?" asked Freda, who was listening with wide and eager
eyes.
Arthur smiled slightly.
"Most like it was a witty invention to put the bloodhounds off the
scent, since Dalaber would scarce deliver over his friend into the
hands of his bitter foes."
"Is it right to speak a lie even in a good cause?" asked the girl,
seeming to address no particular person, but to be thinking aloud.
"A nice question in ethics, sweet mistress," spoke Arthur, with a
smile; "and it may be there are some (I can believe that Master
Clarke would be one) who would die sooner than utter a falsehood.
But for my part I hold that, as a man may take life or do some
grievous bodily hurt to one who attacks him, and if he act in self
defence no blame may attach to him, though at other times such a
deed would be sin, so a man may speak a false word (at other times
a sin) to save the life of his friend, and keep him out of the
hands of those who would do him grievous bodily hurt, and perhaps
put him to a cruel death. At least our own priests will assoil us
for such sins. They suffer us to do evil that good may come--if not
openly preaching the doctrine, yet by implication. I hold that no
blame attaches to Anthony for speaking an untruth to save his
friend."
Freda could not blame him either, though she held the truth in high
esteem. It was a cruel predicament in which to be placed, and
Anthony was ever impulsive in his thoughts and words.
Arthur took up his story again.
"The prior gave orders that search should instantly be made in the
direction of Woodstock; and then, turning once more to Dalaber, he
caught sight of the signet ring he always wore upon his hand, and
asked him what it was. Dalaber took it off and gave it him to look
at. You doubtless have noted the ring--a piece of jasper, with the
letters A. D. graven upon it. The prior looked at it with covetous
eyes, and finally put it on his finger.
"Sure, this must be mine own signet ring," he said, with a sinister
smile, "for it hath mine own initials upon it--A for Anthony, and D
for Dunstan."
"The robber!" ejaculated Freda hotly. "What said Anthony to that?"
"He said naught. He had other matters to think of than the loss of
his ring. But, in sooth, there was no time for more to be spoken,
for at that moment up came the beadle and other servants of the
commissary, desiring that Anthony Dalaber should be brought at once
before him in Lincoln College; and forthwith he was taken away, and
I could only just whisper to him as he passed me by that I would
see you and tell you all that happened."
Silence fell upon the little group as Arthur ended his narrative.
All hearts were heavy, and they were not made less so by his next
words.
"And I fear me greatly that Dalaber is not the only one who is in
peril in Oxford this day. I fear me much that it will not be long
before they lay hands upon Master Clarke."
Dismay and sorrow were in all faces. Dr. Langton looked intently at
the speaker, as though to ask more, and Arthur answered the
unspoken question.
"I think I have told you how that the cardinal has been informed
that the very men he introduced into Oxford have been foremost in
the spread of those doctrines which are begun to be called heresy,
though not one word has Master Clarke ever spoken for which he
cannot find confirmation in the words of Holy Writ and in the pure
teachings of the primitive church. But having heard this, the
cardinal is much disturbed, and hath ordered a very close and
strict investigation to be made. I know not exactly yet what these
words may mean to us; but at no moment should I be surprised to
hear that Clarke and others of like mind with himself had been
suspended from teaching, if not arrested and accused as heretics."
"Oh, it is too much! it is too much!" cried Magdalen, whose face
had turned deadly pale. She was much agitated, and her wonted calm
had deserted her.
Freda, who was standing at the window, suddenly exclaimed that
Master Radley was coming hastily across the meadow path towards
them, and some instinct seemed to warn them all that he was the
bearer of heavy tidings. They could not await his coming, but went
downstairs and out into the garden, where they met him breathless
with his speed.
"Master Clarke is taken!" he cried, emotion and haste making his
words barely audible. "He was warned last night of coming peril.
The place was full of rumours, and it was known that Garret had
been back and had escaped again. We counselled him to fly, but he
refused. This morning the proctors sent for him, and he hath not
returned. I am expecting a visit every moment to my chambers. They
may or may not find the books concealed there; but it is known that
I have hidden Master Garret. I shall not escape their malice. For
myself I care little; but for that saint upon earth, John
Clarke--oh, a church that can call him heretic and outcast must be
corrupt to the very core!"
"Have a care, my friend, have a care," spoke Arthur, with a quick
look round. "I would I could teach you zealous men a little of the
wisdom of the serpent. You are careful one for the other, yet for
your own selves ye seem to have no thought. But your tidings is
evil indeed. So Master Clarke is to be another victim?"
"Alas! I fear me so. All the college is talking of it. Our dean,
after matins this morning, spoke very grave words, and said how it
was grieving him to the quick that this godly college, built and
endowed by the holy cardinal himself, should be regarded as a
centre of growing heresy, and how that he hoped by God's grace to
purge and cleanse it. Master Clarke was not in his stall, and when
we came out we heard that he had been taken. They think that others
will shortly follow. Master Clarke and Anthony Dalaber are in their
hands, and will be straitly examined. If they tell all that will be
asked of them, many of us may be in prison ere long; if not, it may
take time to hunt the victims down; but I trow they will be snared
and taken at last."
"Anthony will never betray his friends," spoke Freda beneath her
breath, a wave of colour flooding her face.
Magdalen had turned away, and was pacing up and down in a secluded
walk. Arthur followed and came up with her, looking into her face,
which was wet with tears. He took her hand, and she did not repulse
him. She felt the need of help and sympathy. She was deeply
troubled, and she knew that he was also.
"It will be a heavy blow to many of us, Mistress Magdalen, if aught
befall our father and friend, Master Clarke."
"I feel as though I could not bear it," she answered, with a sob.
"His words were as words of life to me."
"And to me also," answered Arthur gravely, "even though I do not
call myself, as he did, one of this new brotherhood. But I hold him
to be a holy man of God, with whom was pure and sound doctrine. If
harm befall him, Oxford will suffer the stain of an indelible
disgrace."
"Can nothing be done?" cried Magdalen earnestly. "Oh, can we do
nothing? You are rich, you are powerful, you have many friends in
high places--can you do nothing?"
"Whatever I can do, I will do," answered Arthur gravely. "I fear me
in a crisis like this it will be little; and yet I will leave no
stone unturned. I will even see the cardinal himself if I can
achieve it, and if his life or safety are in peril. I would risk
much for him and for Dalaber, for both are dear to me. Believe me,
I will do all that in me lies; but I fear I cannot promise success.
I know not what is intended, but I feel that there is much abroad
of hatred and enmity against those who are branded with the name of
heretic."
"It is so hard, so hard," spoke Magdalen again, "when they ask so
little--just the liberty of thought and study, and only such things
as the Word of God enjoins."
Arthur slightly shook his head. He knew well what the answer of the
opposing party would be to such an argument; but he was in no mood
for controversy, least of all with Magdalen.
He stopped as they reached the end of the walk, and she paused
instinctively. He possessed himself of both her hands, and she did
not draw them away.
"Magdalen," he said gently, "when Dalaber spoke to me of the peril
that threatened him, he said that he regarded me almost as a
brother, in that he was the betrothed of Freda, and he knew how
that I did love thee as mine own life. Sweetheart, it scarce seems
a moment in which to speak of love and joy; but let me ask at least
the right to be near thee and to comfort thee in the hour of
darkness and trouble. Those who are in peril are dear to us both. I
will do all that one man can compass on their behalf. But let me
have one word of hope and comfort ere I leave thee. Say, my
beloved--dost thou, canst thou, love me?"
She hesitated a little, and then her head bent lower till it rested
for a moment upon his shoulder.
His arm was round her, and he drew her towards himself.
"I think I have loved thee a great while now, Arthur," she
answered, and felt his lips upon her brow and hair.
So when he walked away an hour later, although his heart was
clouded by anxiety and doubt, there was a deep joy and triumph in
his soul, and the sun seemed to shine with a golden radiance,
despite the heavy clouds hanging in the sky.