stretched her senseless on the stone floor of the cell. Having by this
primitive means silenced Margery's "endless quotations," he let himself
out with a private key.
When Lord Marnell returned to the prison that evening, he found Margery
in what he supposed to be a swoon. He summoned the jailer, and through
him sent for a physician, who applied restoratives, but told Lord
Marnell at once that Margery had fallen, and had received a heavy blow
on the head. By the united care of the physician and her husband, she
slowly returned to consciousness: not, however, fully so at first, for
she murmured, "Mother!" When Lord Marnell bent over her and spoke to
her, she suddenly recognised him as if awaking from a dream. Yes, she
replied to their inquiries, she had certainly fallen, and she thought
she had hurt her head; but she would not tell them that the cause of the
fall was a passionate blow from the Abbot's hand. The physician asked
when her examination was to take place; and on Lord Marnell replying,
"To-morrow," he shook his head, and said she would not be able to
appear.
"Oh ay, ay, let me go!" said Margery, "I would not have delay therein.
I shall be better by morn, and--"
But as she spoke she fainted away, and the doctor, turning to Lord
Marnell, said--
"She is no wise fit for it, poor lady! The inquiry must needs be
delayed, and the blame thereof be mine own."
"Then I pray you," replied Lord Marnell, "to say the same unto the
council; for they heed not me."
He answered that he would go to them as soon as he thought that his
patient required no further professional assistance. Margery seemed
better shortly, and Master Simon, for such was the doctor's name,
repaired at once to the council charged with the examination of
prisoners accused of heresy, and told them that their State prisoner,
the Lady Marnell, was very ill in her dungeon, and would not be able to
appear before them for at least some weeks to come. Arundel, who
presided, only laughed. The doctor insisted.
"Why," said be, "the poor lady is sickening for a fever; let her alone:
how can a woman light-headed answer questions upon doctrine and heresy?"
The council, governed by Arundel, still seemed unwilling to grant the
prayer; when, to the surprise of every one present, Abbot Bilson, the
principal witness for the Crown, rose and supported the petition. The
puzzled council accordingly granted it. Arundel was very much under
Bilson's influence, and Bilson had a private reason for his conduct,
which will presently appear.
So the examination was adjourned until February, and Margery, released
for the moment from the struggle with her enemies, was left to combat
the fever which had seized her. Lord Marnell and Master Simon begged
for an order of the council to remove poor Margery home, the latter
asserting that she would never recover in the Tower. The council
refused this application. They then requested that one of her
waiting-women should be allowed to attend her, and that bedding and
linen, with such other necessaries as Master Simon might deem fit, might
be supplied to the prisoner from her own house. The council, after a
private consultation among its members, thought fit to grant this
reasonable prayer.
Alice Jordan was made very happy by an order from Lord Marnell to attend
her sick mistress. Everything that Marnell Place could furnish, which
Master Simon did not absolutely forbid,--and Master Simon was easy of
persuasion--was lavished on the whitewashed cell in the Tower. Alice,
however, was carefully searched every time she passed in and out of the
Tower, to see that she supplied no books nor writing-materials to the
prisoner, nor took any letters from her. Poor Margery! the care was
needless, for she was just then as incapable of writing as if she had
never been taught.
Margery's illness lasted even longer than Master Simon had anticipated.
On a dark, cold winter night, when snow was falling thickly outside the
prison, and a low rushlight burned on the table, dimly lighting up the
narrow cell, Margery unexpectedly whispered, "Who is there?"
"I, dear mistress--Alice Jordan."
"Alice Jordan! Where then am I? Or was it all a terrible dream? Is
this Lovell Tower?" Alice's voice trembled as she said, "No."
"What then? Oh! I know now. It is the Tower of London, and the end
cometh nigh."
"Nay, dearest mistress, you fare marvellous better now."
"I mean not the fever-death, good friend, but _the end_--the end of my
weary pilgrimage, the gate of the Happy City. Welcome be the end of the
way, for the way hath been a rough one and a sore! However sharp be the
end, I can bear it now. My soul hath been loosed from earth. I see
nothing now, I want nothing but Christ, and to be with Him in the glory.
Alice, how fareth the child? I dared not to ask afore, since I came
into this place, but I can now."
"I trow he fareth well, good mistress, but of a long season I have not
seen him. My Lord hath sent him unto the care of Dame Lovell."
Margery's eyes, rather than her voice, expressed her pleasure at this
news.
"Hath my Lord my husband been here sithence I took sick?"
"Every day, my Lady; and I trow he sent away the boy for that reason,
lest his coming hither should give him the sickness."
"Knoweth my mother of my sickness?"
"I wis not, my Lady, but I trow that my Lord would tell her, when he
sent the child down with Master Pynson."
"Master Pynson! Hath he been hither?"
"Yea, good my Lady, he came up, I ween, on Saint Luke's Day [October
18], and took back the young master with him."
"What said he when ye told him of my prison, Alice?"
"He covered his face, and wept sore."
Margery turned her face to the wall. "A fiery trial!" she murmured, as
if to herself--"a fiery trial for him as well as me! Is this the way
wherein the Father will draw him? If so, Richard, I can bear it."
The 16th of February came. On the morning of that day, as Lord Marnell
stepped out of his own house into the open air, with the intention of
paying his usual visit to Margery, Abbot Bilson came up, radiant and
smiling, and carrying under his arm a large parchment roll.
"Ah, my very good Lord, well met! Whither away?"
"I purpose to see Madge."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Abbot, who was occupied with an amusement which
comes naturally to men of his disposition, and has been wittily denned
as "washing one's hands with invisible soap, in imperceptible water."
"What hast under thine arm, reverend father?" asked Lord Marnell.
"Ah! this is the indictment of the Lady Marnell. Your Lordship witteth
that she will be examined to-morrow afore the council, and by them
sentenced."
"You will endeavour yourself, reverend father, that the sentence be made
as light as may be."
"My Lord, we have but one sentence for heretics," said Abbot Bilson,
with a smile which showed all his teeth, like a wild beast. "The Act
regarding them was yestermorn sceptred by the King's Grace."
"One!" remarked Lord Marnell, in some surprise. "The sentence now,
then, is--?"
"_Death_."
Lord Marnell hastily laid his hand on a buttress, to steady himself,
when he heard this awful news.
"You have deceived me, father! You have deceived me!" he cried. "You
told me, some months gone, when first I called you into this matter,
that the sentence on heretics was prison."
"My good Lord, I pray you remember that I told you but a moment back,
that the new Act is just passed. Ere that the sentence truly was close
prison; but now--"
On finding himself thus inveigled by the cunning of Abbot Bilson, Lord
Marnell was beside himself with passion. He burst into a torrent of the
most fearful language. Abbot Bilson stood calmly by, as if quite
accustomed to such scenes.
"My good Lord, I pray you blaspheme not, or I must needs appoint you a
sore penance," was all that he mildly observed.
Lord Marnell recovered himself by a strong effort, and asked, as
politely as he could, what description of death was commanded by the new
Act.
"Burning or beheading, at the pleasure of the King's Grace," replied the
Abbot, as unconcernedly as though the choice in question lay between a
couple of straws.
"My wife, being a peeress, will of force be beheaded?"
"Likely, I trow," replied the Abbot, drawing his cowl closer over his
head, as a cold blast of wind came up the street.
"Father, you must use all effort that the sentence be so pronounced, if
the King's Grace remit it not."
"The King's Grace remitteth never sentence on heretics," said Bilson,
with another of his disagreeable smiles. "He is much too true and
faithful son of Holy Church therefor. And as to my poor efforts, my
Lord--"
"You _can_, and you _shall_," wrathfully answered Lord Marnell, and, not
to prolong the contest, walked rapidly away.
Abbot Bilson stood looking after him, with an expression on his face not
unlike that which a triumphant demon might be supposed to exhibit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. Henry had previously conspired against the King three times,
and had even plotted the death of his own father. His father sentenced
him to death, and if Richard had not interposed, Henry would not have
lived to depose his benefactor. "How true is the saying," cried poor
Richard in his agony, "that we have no greater enemy than the man whom
we save from the gallows!"--See Creton's MS. Bibl. Imp. 8448-2
_Ambassades_.
CHAPTER NINE.
AN OBDURATE HERETIC.
"Great your strength, if great your need."
Henry Kirke White.
In the evening of the same day, the council sent a physician to report
on the prisoner's health. Not gentle Master Simon, but a stern,
iron-handed, iron-hearted man, from whom Margery and Alice shrank
instinctively. The physician reported that the Lady Marnell had
undoubtedly been very ill, but was now better, and ailed nothing but
weakness; he accordingly recommended that the examination should take
place, but that the prisoner, in consideration of her extreme debility,
should be indulged with a seat. Master Simon tried hard to obtain a
little further postponement; but this time the powerful Abbot was
against him, and he gained nothing by his motion. So, on the morning of
the 17th, Margery rose from her sick-bed to appear before the council.
Lord Marnell, who had lately shown her extraordinary kindness, as though
with the view of undoing, so far as lay in his power, the evil which his
rash, though well-meant conduct had originally created, assisted his
wife into her litter, and rode beside it during the short journey. On
arriving at the door, where they found a steep flight of steps to mount,
Lord Marnell would not allow Margery to try her strength, but carried
her up in his arms. He knew, and so did she, that she would need all
the strength she could muster for the trial which was to come. The
council-chamber was hung with red cloth, and the benches appropriated to
spectators were filled to overflowing. For one moment Margery shrank
back at the sight of so many strange faces; and a faint tinge of colour
mounted to her pale cheek as Lord Marnell led her forward to her chair.
In the president's seat was the Archbishop of Canterbury, and on his
left hand Abbot Bilson. Several abbots, priors, and other legal and
ecclesiastical dignitaries, made up the remainder of the council.
For eight weary hours, with very short intervals for refreshment, they
kept that fragile prisoner before them, and all the time she never
quailed, nor evaded any of their questions. Twice Master Simon
interfered, and begged that wine might be given her, or he would not
answer for her further recovery; and once she herself asked for a glass
of water, and for a few minutes seemed about to faint.
Abbot Bilson came out in his true colours at this examination. He was
no longer the mild, persuasive teacher; he now showed himself the
unforgiving revenger. The Archbishop pressed the prisoner hard with
questions, many of them irrevelant to the indictment; and most of the
other members of the Council put queries to her.
They inquired, amongst other things, if she believed that in the
Sacrament of the Lord's Supper the bread and wine became the very body
and blood of Christ.
"Nay, certes," was Margery's answer. "For if Christ, being in life,
could hold His own body, and give the same unto His disciples, then were
it no true human body, for a natural and true body cannot be in two
several places at the self-same moment of time. Moreover, if the bread
of the host be verily the body of Christ, then did He eat His own body,
and that is contrary to very reason."
"The mysteries of the faith be above reason," said Arundel.
"Of a truth, and farther above it, maybe, than we wit; but in no wise
contrary thereunto."
"Believe you in Purgatory?"
"The Church teacheth the same, and I say not that it may not be true;
but I find it not in the book."
"Pray you unto the blessed Virgin Saint Mary, the holy angels, and the
saints?"
"Soothly, no: it is not in the book. `_Whateuer thing ye axen the Fadir
in my name, I schal do that thing_,' saith Christ: but I hear not a word
of `whatever thing ye shall ask Saint Michael, or Saint Anne.'"
"Account you confession unto priests to be right or evil?"
"It may be right--I wis not; but I saw it not in the book. I pray you,
reverend fathers, if any other part of God His book do name these
things, and give leave for the same, that you show it unto me, and
thereupon I will believe them, but no else."
The above is, of course, a mere sample of the innumerable questions
which were put to the prisoner. Towards the close of the day, the
Archbishop and abbots consulted together for a few minutes; and then
Arundel turned to the accused.
"Margery Marnell, Baroness Marnell of Lymington, the Court demands of
you whether you will put your name to this paper, and hold to all things
therein contained?"
"Let me read the paper, my Lord Archbishop, and then I will give you an
answer."
The Archbishop did not wish her to read the paper; but Margery steadily
declined to sign anything in the dark. At length the council permitted
it to be read to her. It contained a promise to abjure all Lollard
doctrines, and to perform a severe penance, such as the council should
lay on her, for the scandal which she had caused to the Church. Margery
at once refused to sign anything of the kind. The Archbishop warned her
that in that case she must be prepared to submit to the capital
sentence.
"Ye may sentence me," she said, in her clear voice, always distinct,
however feeble, "to what ye will. I fear you not. I wis ye have power
to kill my body, but my soul never shall ye have power to touch. That
is Christ's, who witteth full well how to keep it; and to His blessed
hands, not yours, I commit myself, body and soul."
The Archbishop then passed sentence. The Court found Margery, Baroness
Marnell of Lymington, guilty of all crimes whereof she stood indicted,
and sentenced her to death by burning, in the open place called Tower
Hill, on the 6th day of March next ensuing.
The prisoner bowed her head when the sentence had been pronounced, and
then said as she rose, and stretched out her hand to Lord Marnell, who
came forward and supported her, "I greatly fear, reverend fathers, that
your day is yet to come, when you shall receive sentence from a Court
whence there is no appeal, and shall be doomed to a dreader fire!"
When Lord Marnell had assisted his wife back into her dungeon, and laid
her gently on the bed, he turned and shook his fist at the wall.
"If I, Ralph Marnell of Lymington, had thee here, Abbot Thomas Bilson--"
"Thou wouldst forgive him, my good Lord," faintly said Margery.
"Who? I? Forgive _him_? What a woman art thou, Madge! Nay--by the
bones of Saint Matthew, I would break every bone in his body! Forsooth,
Madge, those knaves the Archbishop and the Abbot have played me a scurvy
trick, and gone many times further than I looked for, when I called them
into this business. But it is so always, as I have heard,--thy
chirurgeon and thy confessor, if they once bear the hand in thy matters,
will never let thee go till they have choked thee. I fear I shall have
hard labour to get thee out of this scrape. I will do all I can, be
thou sure, but thou wist that I am not in favour with the new King as I
was with King Richard, whose soul God rest! Madge, wilt forgive me,
wife?"
"With a very good will, my Lord," said Margery. "I wis well that thou
wottedst not all that thou didst."
"Not I, by Saint James of Compostella!" exclaimed Lord Marnell. "Were
the good King Richard alive and reigning, I would soon let both the
Archbishop and the Abbot feel the place too hot for to hold them. But I
can do nothing with Harry of Bolingbroke, looking, too, that he hateth
the Lollards as he hateth the devil--and a deal more, I trow, for I
count that that prince and he be old friends," added Lord Marnell, with
an air of great disgust.
Margery smiled gravely. She felt sorry for her husband, who she saw was
very miserable himself at the unexpected result of his conduct; but she
did not allow herself for an instant to hope that he could save her.
"Mine own good Lord," she said, "I pray you torment not yourself in
assaying my relief, neither in thinking that you be the cause of my
trouble; for I forgive you as freely as Christ hath forgiven me, and I
count that is free enough."
Lord Marnell stood leaning against the wall, and looking at Margery, who
lay outside the bed.
"Of a truth, wife, I conceive thee not. Thou art here in the Tower
dungeon, and thou lookest for no good outcoming, and lo! thou art calm
and peaceful as if thou wert on King Henry's throne! What means it,
Madge?"
"I trow I am much happier here than I should be on King Henry's throne!"
answered Margery, with a smile. "Christ is with me, good husband, and
where Christ is, is peace. `_Pees I leeue to ghou, my pees I ghyue to
ghou; not as the world ghyueth I ghyue to ghou_' [John xiv. 27].
`_These thingis I haue spoken to ghou, that ghe haue pees in me. In the
world ghe schulen haue disese; but triste ghe, I haue ouercome the
world_?'" [John xvi. 33.]
When Lord Marnell quitted Margery that evening, he hastened to Court,
and attempted to gain the ear of the King. Since the deposition of his
friend and master, King Richard, he had never appeared there. He was
consequently a stranger to the pages and porters, who tried to get rid
of him as politely as they could. At length Lord Marnell caught sight
of the Earl of Surrey, who with some hesitation consented to introduce
him into the privy chamber. Henry listened to Lord Marnell only until
he comprehended the nature of his plea; then met him with a frown and an
angry--
"Pardon a Lollard? Never!"
"Please it, your Grace, your noble predecessor, King Richard, though no
Lollard, would have granted me at once, in consideration of my long and
faithful service unto him."
"I am not Richard of Bordeaux, but Henry of Bolingbroke!" was the
haughty answer, as the King turned round abruptly, and quitted Lord
Marnell.
"By our Lady of Walsingham, I wis full well _that_" replied the latter,
_sotto voce_.
As Lord Marnell quitted the palace, he met in the corridor with the
Prince of Wales, [Afterwards Henry V] who stopped and saluted him, and
Lord Marnell at once begged for his intercession with his father. The
Prince readily promised it, but on learning particulars, the son's brow
darkened as the father's had done. He was very sorry, but he really
could not ask the King's pardon for a Lollard. Lord Marnell would have
given his whole fortune to undo his own work of the last eighteen
months. He had never dreamed that Abbot Bilson would have summoned the
archbishop to his aid, nor that Margery would have stood half as firmly
as she had done. He only knew her as a fragile, gentle, submissive
girl, and never expected to find in her material for the heroine or the
martyr. Lord Marnell tried to procure the mediation of everybody about
the Court; but all, while expressing great sympathy with him, declined
to risk their own necks. Even the King's sons said they dared not
comply with his request. Prince Thomas [afterwards Henry V] was
extremely kind--very much grieved that he could not help him; but Prince
Humphrey [Duke of Gloucester] turned scornfully from him, and Prince
John [the great Duke of Bedford] coldly bade him take heed to his own
safety. The Earl of Somerset, the King's half-brother, shook his head,
and said he was already suspected by the King to be a Lollard himself,
and such an application from him would probably seal his own doom. Lord
Marnell applied to the Queen [Jeanne of Navarre, the second wife of
Henry IV]; but she seemed most afraid of all to whom he had spoken, lest
she should incur the King's anger, and possibly endanger herself.
The interval between the day of the examination and that appointed for
the execution passed drearily to all parties. Lord Marnell,
notwithstanding all these repulses, exerted himself unremittingly to
procure a commutation of the sentence, at least to beheading; but in
vain. The King was inexorable. If the Lady Marnell had chosen to ally
herself with Lollards, she well knew what she was doing, and must abide
the consequences. Vainly did Lord Marnell represent how young and
inexperienced she was; in vain did he urge that the Act which made the
Lollards amenable to capital punishment had been passed since her
indictment, and only a few weeks before. Henry was not naturally
disposed to hear his pleasure called in question; and Abbot Bilson had
had possession of the royal ear already.
When Alice returned from Marnell Place on the evening of the 26th of
February, Margery saw, by the expression of her face, that she had heard
something which shocked her. She asked what it was.
"You mind, good my Lady, the day that you went with Master Pynson to
hear a sermon in Bostock Church?"
"I trow I shall not lightly forget it," was Margery's answer.
"Master Sastre was a-preaching, was he not?"
"Ay. Wherefore?"
"My Lady, he suffered death this forenoon by burning."
"Master Sastre! Who told thee?"
"Christopher it was that told me,--and yon evil man--for sure, though he
be a holy priest, yet is he an evil man, or would he never else have so
dealt with your Ladyship--yon evil man, Abbot Bilson was there, and did
sore press Master Sastre for to have confessed his error; but Master
Sastre did maintain the same to the end."
Margery turned away her head. The venerable image of Sastre rose up
before her, as he learned forward over the pulpit to say those last
earnest words.
"Ah, dear old teacher!" she whispered to herself. "Thou wilt not have
long to look among the multitude in the white apparel, for _one_ face
which was upturned to thee that day!"
CHAPTER TEN.
GLORIFYING THE LORD IN THE FIRES.
"Ah, little is all loss,
And brief the space 'twixt shore and shore,
If Thou, Lord Jesus, on us lay,
Through the dark waters of our way,
The burden which Christopheros bore--
To carry Thee across."
Miss Muloch.
As Lord Marnell sat with Margery in her cell in the evening of the 1st
of March, she begged him to grant her a favour. Her contrite husband
bade her ask what she would. Margery replied that she greatly wished to
write a last letter to her mother. Writing-materials were carefully
kept from her. Could Lord Marnell supply her with the means of doing
so? He said he would attempt it.
When Alice returned on the following day from Marnell Place, whither she
had been to procure a change of linen for her mistress, she brought with
her also a loaf of bread. The jailer demurred at this, but Alice urged
that Lady Marnell did not like the bread made by the prison baker, and
surely the jailer would not grudge her a loaf from home, for the few
days she had to live. The jailer shook his head, but let it pass. When
Alice was safe in the cell, she broke the loaf, and produced from it,
cunningly imbedded in the soft crumb, several sheets of paper folded
surprisingly small, a pen, and a little inkhorn. Margery's eyes
glistened when she saw these, and she wrote her letter secretly during
the night. But how to get it out of the prison with safety? Alice was
able to provide for this also. The letter was sewn in one of the
pillows, which would be carried back to Marnell Place after the
execution.