------------------------------------------------------------------------
IN THE DAYS OF
QUEEN MARY
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: HE SHOWED NO SIGN OF LIFE. _Frontispiece._]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
IN THE DAYS OF
QUEEN MARY
BY
EDWARD E. CRAKE, M.A., F.R.HIST.SOC.
(RECTOR OF JEVINGTON)
AUTHOR OF "HENRI DUQUESNE," "WHEN THE PURITANS WERE IN POWER,"
"THE ROYALIST BROTHERS," "DAME JOAN OF PEVENSEY," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED BY W. S. STACEY_
PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE GENERAL
LITERATURE COMMITTEE
LONDON
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, W.C.; 43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E.C.
BRIGHTON: 129, NORTH STREET
NEW YORK: E. S. GORHAM
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DEDICATED
(_by permission_)
TO
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I CHIDDINGLY PLACE 7
II THE APPARITOR 16
III THE PURSUIVANT 27
IV THAMES PIRATES 48
V GRAY'S INN 58
VI THE STAR CHAMBER 72
VII THE ARREST OF RALPH 87
VIII THE VERDICT 96
IX THE DAWN OF HOPE 104
X WHITEHALL 112
XI THE BATTLE OF ST. QUENTIN 129
XII THE FALL OF ST. QUENTIN 144
XIII THE SCHWARTZREITERS 156
XIV BRUSSELS, ANTWERP, CALAIS 175
XV CALAIS 190
XVI HOME AGAIN 202
XVII THREE CLOSING SCENES 215
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ILLUSTRATED BOOKS
BY
_THE SAME AUTHOR_
----------
=Dame Joan of Pevensey.= A Sussex Tale. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 1_s._
6_d._
=Henri Duquesne.= A Sussex Romance. Crown 8vo, cloth boards, 1_s._
=The Royalist Brothers.= A Tale of the Siege of Colchester. Crown 8vo,
cloth boards, 2_s._ 6_d._
=When the Puritans were in Power.= A Tale of the Great Rebellion. Crown
8vo, cloth boards, 2_s._
--------------
SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE,
LONDON: NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, W.C.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Decoration]
IN THE
DAYS OF QUEEN MARY
CHAPTER I
CHIDDINGLY PLACE
The sun was setting, and a rosy light filtered through the trees which
enshrouded Chiddingly Place.
The cawing of the rooks, as they winged their leisurely flight into the
great rookery, alone broke the silence which sweetly brooded over the
broad terrace on which two Sussex boys lay extended on the velvety turf.
It was Midsummer Day—a day of unbroken sunshine and excessive heat.
In the evening a refreshing wind had revived the parched earth, and the
gay flowers which spangled the wide-spreading lawn were lifting their
drooped heads with renewed life.
The stone-mullioned windows of the Tudor house were thrown wide open,
and the lads could see the maids within the dining-hall busily engaged
in laying the supper for which they were more than ready.
"Come, Ralph," said William, as he bestirred himself, "we must go
indoors and make ourselves presentable. Uncle John comes to-night, and
he will soon be here."
"Oh, don't hurry," answered his brother, as he lay playing with two fine
retrievers. "I love to watch the purple light on the downs as the sun
sinks behind them; I could gladly lie here all night!"
"I agree with you," answered William; "but here comes Sue with orders, I
expect, from the powers that be, that we are to go indoors at once."
Susan was the only sister of the two boys, and at her approach the dogs
ran forward to greet her, and the boys rose quickly from their mossy
couch.
The boys were twins, and as they stood side by side the likeness between
them was striking.
They were in their eighteenth year, and fine specimens were they of the
race of the "Sudseaxe." Tall and well built, fair haired and blue eyed,
their strong limbs and fresh complexions betokened youths whose lives
had been spent amid the woods and forests of Sussex, or on the rolling
downs which stretched between Chiddingly and the sea.
Yet these boys were not unlettered, for both of them had been
"foundation scholars" in the famous St. Paul's School, built and endowed
by Dean Colet.
Nay, more, the youths had already seen something of Court life, strange
to say.
It happened in this wise.
Their uncle Sir John Jefferay was a famous London lawyer, and he bid
fair to occupy a great position on the judicial bench.
At this time he was the Treasurer of Gray's Inn, and on the occasion of
a grand masque, given in the fine hall of the Inn by the Fellows, his
two nephews had taken the parts of Castor and Pollux. The young King had
honoured the performance with his royal presence, and so struck was he
with the wonderful resemblance of the two Sussex brothers that he
ordered them to Court and spent much time in their company.
In fact this resemblance was very remarkable. Those who knew the boys
best could hardly tell them apart, and to avoid the continual mistakes
which would otherwise have occurred, William always wore a grey cap and
his brother a blue one.
The fondest affection subsisted between them; they were rarely seen
apart; the one was the complement of the other, and their father,
William Jefferay, would often declare that "they possessed two bodies,
but only one soul!"
Just now they were released from their attendance at Court, but they
would have to return thither shortly, for the sickly young King found a
solace in their company.
There was one point upon which the boys were pre-eminently in agreement—
they both adored their sister Sue, and her slightest wish was law to
them.
And well did the fair Susan deserve this devotion. Three short years
before, the boys had become motherless, and Susan, as the eldest member
of the family, at once assumed the domestic control of Chiddingly Place.
The comfort, the happiness, the welfare of the boys became her chief
object in life.
She even shared in their sports—as far as a girl could,—and to her every
secret of their hearts was laid bare; she was their "dea patrona," and
for her both William and Ralph would have gladly laid down their lives
at any time or place.
In person Susan was a feminine replica of the twins. She possessed their
fair complexion and laughing blue eyes—her hair hung, like theirs, in
thick masses over her shoulders.
Though slenderly built she was tall, and her figure displayed the
nameless grace of a well-born English girl.
--------------
"Come, boys," cried Susan, as she ran forth to the terrace to greet
them, "Uncle John will be here in a few minutes; his grooms arrived an
hour ago with his baggage, and now they have set his room in order for
him. Hurry up, or you will keep supper waiting!"
The boys answered her greeting merrily, and taking her hands they ran by
her side towards the entrance porch, which they entered just as Uncle
John appeared upon the scene.
Susan ran out to salute him as he dismounted from his grey sorrel—the
boys darted upward to their rooms.
As Sir John entered the house, his brother William came forward to greet
him with the warmest of welcomes.
--------------
It was a happy party which gathered in the dining-hall that evening.
The supper was served at so early an hour that the candles in the silver
sconces were not yet required: the light of day still gleamed into the
hall through the lozenge-paned oriel window, and sent coloured streams
across the fair napery of the table as it passed through the stained
glass of armorial bearings. Sir John sat at the head of the table, as he
always did when he came to Chiddingly—though he had made a "deed of
gift" of the Place in favour of his brother William when he took up his
abode in London.
Presently the shadows of evening began to deepen, and the wax tapers
were lit.
How pleasant the hall looked as the light shone on the wainscoted walls
and illumined the features of past generations of Jefferays whose
portraits adorned the beautiful chamber!
There was John Jefferay, who purchased Chiddingly Place in 1495, and
beside him was the portrait of his wife Agnes, whose fine features bore
a strong resemblance to Susan.
Their three sons were there—Richard, Thomas and William, Richard being
the father of the famous Sir John who now sat at supper in the hall.
--------------
And when the young people of the family had withdrawn to the parlour, to
amuse themselves with music and merry games, Sir John and his brother
stepped out on to the lawn and entered into grave discourse as they
walked to and fro.
The stars were shining brightly, a soft, gentle wind was stirring the
tree-tops, and from the woods around came the sweet songs of many a
nightingale.
"Ah, what a contrast is this scene of tranquil peace and happiness to
the wild drama which is unfolding itself in London!" said Sir John.
"Here I may speak words to you, brother William, which might cost me my
head if men overheard them in town. I have come to Chiddingly sick at
heart and weary of the world, for the young King is dying, and all the
beasts and birds of prey are gathering together at Court ready to fly at
each others' throats as soon as the life is out of his poor body. Alas!
alas! for England; I see no hope for her but in God. His Grace of
Northumberland is straining every nerve to advance the cause of Lady
Jane Grey and his son Lord Guildford Dudley, and I foresee that, ere
long, the headsman will be busy, and the innocent will suffer with the
guilty.
"Last night his Grace of Canterbury came to me in great trouble; he
would fain know if he might legally sign certain State documents, and I
told him that if he did so it would be at the peril of his head! Alas,
poor Archbishop! he went away greatly perturbed.
"Yesterday I saw the Lord Mayor, and he vowed to me that no earthly
power should constrain him to proclaim Lady Jane as Queen in the City—
let me tell you his heart is wholly with the Lady Mary, and, by my
troth, he is wise! For, as a lawyer, I declare that the rights to the
throne of the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth are indefeasible; yet, if I said
as much in London to-day, I might spend the night in the Tower, and to-
morrow bid my last adieu to this world on the scaffold!
"Oh, the times are dark, deadly, perilous, and I am glad to escape from
London and breathe the pure air of Chiddingly for a brief space."
"And if Mary become Queen, what of our Reformed Church, which is dear to
us both?" inquired William anxiously.
"Ah! God knows—and God only," answered Sir John. "The Lady Mary is a
bigot, and that we all know.
"Yet I will tell you a State secret: she has sent a messenger to the
Lord Mayor, declaring that should she be declared Queen, no Englishman
shall suffer for his faith."
"Will she keep her word?" asked William.
"_Qui vivra verra_," answered Sir John; "but I foresee that all depends
upon the man whom she shall marry, for marry she will. If, by the mercy
of God, she marry a good man, all may be well; if she marry a bad one,
then God help us!"
William was deeply moved, and he sighed audibly.
"It bodes great trouble for England," he said in a troubled voice. "It
may be that the fires of Smithfield will be rekindled as in the worst
days of King Henry: yet I believe that the Reformation has taken a deep
hold upon the country; the Church may bend before a fierce storm of
persecution, but she will not be broken—she will rise again! I, for one,
would rather die than bow my knees to Baal, as represented to me by the
Papacy; and, thank God, there are thousands of men of like mind with me
in Sussex!"
As William pronounced these words in tones that quivered with emotion,
his brother caught him by the hand, and shaking it warmly, he cried—
"I know your stedfastness, brother, and I agree with you with all my
heart and soul—yet I pray that God may spare us the trial of our faith!
But hark! I hear an approaching horseman; I expect it is my man Roger,
who is bringing us the latest news from town."
A few minutes later the groom appeared on the lawn, bearing letters in
his hand.
Sir John took them from him; then, turning to his brother, he said—
"Let us go indoors; these letters are from my secretary, and we will
read them at once; they must be of importance, or they would not have
followed me so soon."
Entering the house the gentlemen made their way to the library—a
comfortable room, well lighted with wax candles, and furnished with
numerous settees and easy-chairs.
Sir John sat down and eagerly opened his despatches.
"It is Tremayne who writes," he said. "I will read his letter to you; it
is as follows—
"'HONOURED SIR,
"'The Council met to-day, and the deed of which you wot was
signed and sealed—all the members consenting thereto. The Archbishop
hesitated to the last, but His Grace of Northumberland would not be
withstood—and so all signed. I hear that the King is sinking fast.
From your chambers in Gray's Inn, June 21, 1553. J. W. TREMAYNE'"
The brothers looked at each other with pallid faces.
"So the 'letters patent' are issued," said Sir John, "and the
irrevocable step is taken! 'Domine, dirige nos'! It is the beginning of
strife of which no man can see the issue. Northumberland relies on aid
from France; the Lady Mary places her hope on the Emperor. I bethink me
of our blessed Lord's words: 'These things are the beginning of sorrows!
Then shall be great tribulation such as was not since the beginning of
the world to this time, no nor ever shall be.' And alas! for the poor
young King, he hath none to comfort him; he is tasting of that
unutterable loneliness that surrounds a throne! I think the end of his
troubles is nigh at hand—and then the great strife will begin!
"But the hour is growing late, William," said Sir John, "and I hear
Susan's pretty voice below; she is singing one of those songs I love so
well: let us join the young people, I have seen little of them to-
night."
--------------
A fortnight later, on July 6th, King Edward died at Greenwich in the
sixteenth year of his age and the seventh of his reign.
Sir John had tarried at Chiddingly until the end came; then he hastened
up to London, where pressing duties called him.
With him went the two boys—to begin their legal studies under the
auspices of their uncle at Gray's Inn, for it was his wish that they
should both enter the learned profession of the law.
------------------------------------------------------------------------