Hugh Calveley, it has already been intimated, was lodged in a vault
beneath the gateway. The place was commonly used as a sort of black-hole
for the imprisonment of any refractory member of the royal household, or
soldier on guard guilty of neglect of duty. Circular in shape, it
contained a large pillar, to which iron rings and chains were attached.
The walls were of stone, the roof arched with ribs springing from the
pillar that supported it, and the floor was paved. Window there was
none; but air was admitted through a small grated aperture in the roof;
and thus imperfectly ventilated, it will not be wondered at that the
vault should be damp. Moisture constantly trickled down the walls, and
collected in pools on the broken pavement; but unwholesome as it was,
and altogether unfit for occupation, it was deemed good enough for those
generally thrust into it, and far too good for its present tenant.
As the prisoner exhibited no violence, the thongs with which his hands
were bound were removed on his entrance to the vault, and he was allowed
the free use of his limbs. The breast-plate in which he was clad was
taken from him, and his vesture was again closely searched, but no
further discovery was made either of concealed weapon, or of any paper
or letter tending to show that he had accomplices in his dread design.
The only thing found upon him, indeed, was a small Bible, and this,
after it had been examined, he was permitted to retain. To the
interrogatories put to him by Master Dendy, the serjeant-at-arms, he
returned the briefest answers; and when he had said as much as he
thought fit, he obstinately refused to make further reply.
Incensed at his perversity, and determined to extort a full confession,
in order that it might be laid before the King, the serjeant-at-arms
ordered the manacles to be applied. But though the torture was
exquisite, he bore it with firmness, and without uttering a groan;
maintaining the same determined silence as before. Had he dared, Master
Dendy would have had recourse to severer measures; but having no warrant
for any such proceeding, he was obliged to content himself with threats.
To these Hugh Calveley replied by a grim smile of contempt; but as the
serjeant-at-arms was departing to make his report to Sir Thomas Lake, he
said, "I have something to disclose; but it is for the King's ear
alone."
"Better reveal it to me," rejoined Dendy, halting. "I have it in my
power to render your situation far more tolerable, or to inflict
greater torment upon you. Make your choice."
"Deal with me as you please," returned Hugh Calveley sternly. "What I
have to say is to the King, and to the King only; and though you break
every bone in my body with your engines, and tear off my flesh with
red-hot pincers, you shall not force the secret from me."
Master Dendy looked at him, and felt disposed to place him in the
dreadful instrument of torture called Skeffington's irons, which was
hanging against the wall; but the consideration that had hitherto
restrained him--namely, that he was without authority for the step, and
might be called to account for it--weighed with him still; wherefore he
contented himself with ordering the prisoner to be chained to the
pillar; and having seen the injunction obeyed, he left him.
In this miserable plight Hugh Calveley remained for some hours, without
light and without food. How the time was passed none knew; but the two
yeomen of the guard who entered the vault found him on his knees
absorbed in prayer. They brought a lamp with them, and refreshments of a
better kind than those usually afforded to a prisoner, and set them
before him. But he refused to partake of them. The only favour he
besought was permission to read his Bible; and the lamp placed within
reach, he was soon deeply engrossed in the perusal of those pages from
which, when earnestly sought, consolation has ever been derived under
the most trying circumstances.
Sir Jocelyn had forborne to visit the prisoner from a fear that his
presence might be painful; but the office imposed upon him by the King
left him no alternative; and about midnight he descended to the vault,
to ascertain from personal inspection that Hugh Calveley was in safe
custody. The door was unlocked by the halberdier stationed at it, and
the young man found himself alone with the prisoner. He was
inexpressibly shocked by the spectacle he beheld, as he had no idea how
severely the unfortunate Puritan had been treated, nor of the sort of
prison in which he was confined.
Hugh Calveley, who was still intently reading the Bible, which he had
placed upon his knee while he held the lamp near it, to throw the light
upon its leaves, did not appear to be disturbed by the opening of the
door, nor did he raise his eyes. But, at last, a deep groan issuing from
the breast of the young man aroused him, and he held up the lamp to
ascertain who was near. On discovering that it was Sir Jocelyn, he
knitted his brow, and, after sternly regarding him for a moment,
returned to his Bible, without uttering a word; but finding the other
maintained his post, he demanded, almost fiercely, why he was disturbed?
"Can I do aught for your relief?" rejoined the young man. "At least, I
can have those chains taken off."
"Thou speakest as one in authority," cried Hugh Calveley, regarding
him, fixedly. "Art thou appointed to be my jailer?"
Sir Jocelyn made no answer, but averted his head.
"This only was wanting to fill up the measure of my scorn for thee,"
pursued the Puritan. "Thou art worthy of thine office. But show me no
favour, for I will receive none at thy hands. I would rather wear these
fetters to my death, however much they may gall my limbs, than have them
struck off by thee. I would rather rot in this dungeon--ay, though it
were worse than it is--than owe my liberation to thee. The sole favour
thou canst show me is to rid me of thy presence, which is hateful to me,
and chases holy thoughts from my breast, putting evil in their place."
"Why should this be so, O friend of my father?" exclaimed Sir Jocelyn.
"And why should my presence be hateful to you? There is no man living
whom I would less willingly offend than yourself; and in all I have
done, where you have been concerned, I have had no free agency. Judge me
not then too harshly. I commiserate your situation from the depths of my
heart, and would relieve it were it possible."
"Then wherefore persist in troubling me?" rejoined Hugh Calveley. "Have
I not good cause for my dislike of you? You have disappointed the
expectations I had formed of you. You failed me when I put your
professions to the test. You thwarted my design at the moment when its
success was certain, and when the tyrant was completely in my power. But
for you I should not be here, loaded with these fetters; or if I were, I
should be consoled by the thought that I had liberated my country from
oppression, instead of being crushed by the sense of failure. What seek
you from me, miserable time-server? Have you not had your reward for the
service you have rendered the King? Is he not grateful enough? I have
served as your stepping-stone to promotion. What more can I do?"
"You can cease to do me injustice," returned Sir Jocelyn. "Honours,
procured as mine have been, are valueless, and I would rather be without
them. I sought them not. They have been forced upon me. Look at the
matter fairly, and you will see that all these consequences, whether for
good or ill, have sprung from your own desperate act."
"It may be so," rejoined the Puritan. "I will not dispute it. But though
ill has accrued to me, and good to you, I would not change positions
with you. You will wear the tyrant's fetters for ever. I shall soon be
free from mine."
"Have you nothing to say concerning your daughter?" demanded the young
man.
"Nothing," replied the Puritan, with an expression of deep pain, which,
however, he checked by a mighty effort. "I have done with the world, and
desire not to be brought back to it."
"And you refuse to be freed from your chains?"
"My sole desire, as I have said, is to be freed from you."
"That wish, at least, shall be granted," replied Sir Jocelyn, as, with a
sad heart, he departed.