"He was charged with conspiring with _Somerset_, but his bold
answers termed rude and ruffian-like, falling into ears apt to
take offence, either only caused, or much furthered his
condemnation. 'The time hath been,' said he, 'when I was of some
esteem, but now we are in peace which reputeth the coward and
couragious alike.'"
He strongly denied that he had practised treason against the King, or
any of the Lords of the Council, and added that "his blood would make
Northumberland's pillow uneasy to him." The 'qwest' were not long in
disposing of him, and the King comments,--
"27 Jan., 1551-2. Sir Rafe Vane was condemned of felony in
treason, aunsering like a ruffian."
The next day was appointed for Sir Thomas Arundell to appear before
his judges. It was apparent they must have had very slender or
unsatisfactory evidence, and it is cruel to read with what pertinacity
they were required to decide on his case.
It is probable that, like the Duke of Somerset, he was taken from the
Tower to Westminster Hall by water, and imagination can easily depict
the various phases of the scene. Aroused early on the morning of the
twenty-eighth of January, in mid-winter almost, it may be in cold and
pitiless weather, escorted by the Lieutenant of the fortress, Sir John
D'Arcy, and accompanied by his officers, down to the well-guarded boat
waiting for him, under the shadow of the great arch that spans the
Traitor's Gate, the way lit by the feeble light of a lantern, which,
as they seated themselves in the little craft, faintly revealed the
portcullis raised for the occasion, and the dark waters of the Thames,
just discernible through it, made visible by the flickering gleam
thrown upon its surface, rippling to the inconstant night-breeze. Then
their emerging from the gloomy portal, the prisoner sitting silent and
motionless in the stern, the officers and halberdiers ranged on each
side, and in front the heads-man's official, with the dread axe
resting on his shoulder. Then their passage down the quiet river, with
no sound to break the solitude, but the measured splash of the oarsmen
steadily rowing him to his doom. Then their landing at Westminster in
the just-breaking light of morning, and the sad little procession
wending its way up to the main door of the vast Hall, its dim,
cavernous roof, scarcely distinguishable by the cluster of twinkling
points of light gathered in its centre, where, arrayed in all the
picturesque costume of the age, emphasized by the scarlet cloaks of
the judges, were congregated a large body of legal and civic
functionaries, the solemn array of the jurors of the 'qwest,' and a
throng of anxious citizens, assembled to decide whether he was guilty,
or not guilty,--if he should live or die.
But the 'qwest' had not so easy a matter before them, in the disposing
of his case, as they had the day before with that of Sir Ralph Vane.
The evidence was presumably of slight or doubtful character, and so
the day passed by and evening arrived, but no decision was arrived at.
Sir Thomas had to endure this prolonged suspense, and was taken back
to the Tower again, to wait through the anxious night, and then the
following morning, go through the same dread ordeal, and appear once
more before his judges, to learn his fate.
The 'qwest' of the jury appear to have thoroughly and sturdily debated
the guilt or innocence of the prisoner, and not being able to agree,
were thereon subjected to the usual inhuman treatment of being starved
in cold and darkness into agreement,--if such it may be called,--or
rather a decision, one way or the other. And so they "sate shut up" in
a house all that live-long night, and it was not until day-break the
next morning that "they did cast him,"--the dissentients probably
being wearied into compliance. "When Sir Thomas--who perhaps may
justly have had latent hope that their disagreement might end
favourably for him--stood before his accusers for the second time, his
doom was decided on, and he heard the fearful result that "they had
acquitted him of treason, and cast him of felony, to be hanged."