THE CHAPEL OF HERNE
The place into which I was taken was of no great size, nevertheless a
large number of people had squeezed themselves in. I judged from this
that the affair had been much noised abroad, and that justices from the
whole country side had come together, so great was the interest taken. I
learnt, however, that the mode of procedure was to be of no ordinary
nature, seeing we were no ordinary prisoners. I was told that the
justices were to examine us concerning the nature of our guilt, and then
if they thought fit, either to pass us on to the assizes or to set us at
liberty, just as they felt inclined. But not being versed in the ways of
the law, I did not trouble much about such matters. For of this I was
sure: the justices would not dare to set Mistress Constance at liberty,
seeing a warrant had been out against her for a great length of time,
and it was not to be expected that they would have mercy upon me, seeing
I had helped the woman to liberty.
Nevertheless I knew that for the sake of their own curiosity they would
be sure to ask us many questions, and in this way such matters might
come to light as I much longed to know.
I saw, moreover, that we were not treated as prisoners of the period
were wont to be treated. Nay more, I saw that many of the rustics gazed
on us with a kind of respectful curiosity.
"Who are their worships on the bench?" I asked of a man who had
conducted me into the justice room, and he pointed them out to me in a
friendly way.
"That is Sir John Napier," he said, pointing to a stout choleric old
man, "and that," nodding to a man with a very solemn face, "is Sir
William Beecher of Howbury. The one to his left is Mr. Gery of
Bushmeade, who fought with King Charles against the Roundheads, while
the one on his left hand is Sir St. John Chernocke of Hulcote."
And so on, speaking to me as if I were a visitor instead of a prisoner.
"They are the greatest gentry in Bedfordshire, young master," he said
confidentially, "and King Charles himself might be proud to call some of
them his friends. Not that they are easy to get over. No, no. They are
terrible hard upon them as breaks the law."
I saw that Mistress Constance was not in the room when I entered and I
wondered why, seeing I had been brought there just after ten, she had
not also been conducted hither at the same time. But I had not to wait
long, for scarcely had I taken a careful view of what was taking place
when she was led in.
There was a general "hush" as she entered, and even the justices looked
curiously towards her, as though she were to be treated with all due
courtesy.
For this I have found throughout my whole life. It all depends on the
woman herself as to how she is treated; and if she be not regarded with
respect it is in nine cases out of ten because of the kind of woman she
is. It may be different with men. In truth I know it is; for I have seen
men of high standing and blameless character treated with discourtesy,
amounting to rudeness if not to cruelty. But few men can speak lightly
or rudely to a woman who is of gentle birth, and is in her own heart a
gentlewoman. If there is any proof needed of this, it was made manifest
that morning. For although Mistress Constance Leslie was the daughter of
a man whom the king hated, and although she was accused of attempting to
murder the great general by whose offices the king was brought back to
the throne, there was not one of the justices who spoke to her in an
unbecoming way. Therefore I say this: If a woman receives only scant
courtesy, let her look to herself, for she will generally find the
reason there. It is wellnigh impossible to respect a shrew, a slattern,
or a gossip, although a man should in every case be courteous to
womanhood, even if he find it hard to respect the woman.
Mistress Constance was still pale, except for the pink flush on her
cheeks, but it detracted not one whit from her beauty. Rather in my eyes
it added to it. Moreover, no man, I do not care who he is, could have
doubted her modesty or gentleness. Indeed I hated the man who called her
wife, and I wondered why God had allowed her to be mated to Sir Charles
Denman. But this might be because, even as she stood before the
justices, my heart went out to her, if possible more than ever.
She wore the same attire as on the previous night, and I heard a buzz of
admiration pass around the room as she stood there bareheaded before the
gaping crowd. But she seemed to be unconscious of it, for she took no
notice of those who watched her, but instead turned her face to the
justices, as if she would read their thoughts.
Her lips were compressed, but not a sign of fear did she shew. Not an
eyelid quivered, neither did her hands tremble. Whether she saw me I
know not. But she made no sign as if she did, although I thought I once
saw her looking at me furtively.
I do not remember any of the formalities which preceded the trial; but
when presently the chief justice called her name, she bowed in a stately
way, and seemed prepared to answer any questions they might put.
"Constance Denman."
My heart grew bitter as I heard the name, and I thought I saw a look of
anger cross her face.
"You are accused of attempting to stab to the heart with a knife his
Grace the Duke of Albermarle, but who was at that time General Monk, and
in truth did stab his secretary. Because of this a warrant hath been
issued against you. Although for a long time you escaped the law, you
have at length been brought to justice."
These words I have written down from memory, and although they may not
be the exact words spoken, they give the sense of what was said.
She did not speak in answer to this, whereupon some one whispered to the
justice who had spoken, who shook his head impatiently.
Then a man who had been writing, lifted his head and said--
"Your name is Constance."
At this she bowed.
"Daughter of Master John Leslie, of Goodlands?"
"Yes."
"Your age?"
"I was born on the 29th of June, 1640."
"You will then be twenty on your next birthday?"
"Yes."
At this there was a suppressed whisper around the justice house. "Just
as I thought." "Beautiful, isn't she?" "Fancy a maid, and a lady born
doing such a thing at that age;" and so on.
"On the 15th of January you were wedded to Sir Charles Denman?"
At this she did not speak.
"You must answer the question," said the chief justice.
I saw a look of terror pass across her face. Her hands clenched and
unclenched themselves, while a crimson flush suffused her whole face.
"What have these questions to do with the crime of which I am accused?"
she asked. "It is well known who I am. Moreover, there are certain
questions which are painful, and they have nought to do with the deed of
which I am believed to be guilty. Therefore be pleased to pass on!"
One might have thought she commanded the court, although she spoke in a
low voice, and in a perfectly womanly way. I believe moreover that the
principal justice would have saved her these questions, but the clerk
insisted upon them.
"These be according to law, Sir William," he said, "and must be
answered."
"You hear what the clerk saith?" replied the justice.
"I repeat the question," said the clerk. "You were married, were you
not, on the 15th day of January, to Sir Charles Denman?"
She drew herself up as if to speak, but no words escaped her lips.
"How hateful the thought of the marriage is to her," I thought to
myself, and my heart was full of joy at the thought of it.
At this moment there was a great confusion in the court, and I saw that
all eyes were turned towards the door.
"Master John Leslie!" was whispered all over the place.
A man past his prime made his way towards the bench, and I saw at a
glance that he must be related to Mistress Constance. He had the same
cast of features, and although there were signs of weakness on his face
which did not appear on that of his daughter, he was a man of noble
appearance.
"I pray you to forgive my tardiness, Sir William," he said, nodding to
the chief justice, "but it was far past midnight when the news was
brought to me in London that my daughter was to be brought before you
to-day. Since then I have ridden without ceasing so as to be here in
time for--for the trial."
I thought then that this man would do his daughter harm rather than good
by appearing in this way, for I saw looks of anger and dislike pass
across the faces of some of the justices.
"Your presence is of no great importance, Master Leslie," said the
justice drily, "and it seems a pity that you have journeyed all the way
from London for nought. Besides, you hinder the procedure. The question
is just asked whether your daughter married Sir Charles Denman, and I
think she can answer it as well as you."
I saw the eyes of father and daughter meet, and as far as I could judge
she seemed to wish him to be silent, but of this I was not sure. I
thought, however, that he paid no heed to her wishes, for he turned to
the bench with a look of resolution in his eyes.
"You have asked whether my daughter is the wife of Sir Charles Denman,"
he said excitedly. "I will even answer you. She is not."
"Father!"
The cry which came from Mistress Constance was as I thought full of
pain.
"Be silent," cried Master Leslie. "Our God is a God of truth, and I will
no longer suffer a falsehood to be believed."
"Whose wife is she then?"
"She is no man's wife."
There was a silence like unto the silence of death in the room as he
spoke, every one there seeming to be afraid to breathe.
"I speak the truth, Sir William," went on Master Leslie. "As you know I
am not a man to utter light words. You have had occasion to say so more
than once as we have sat side by side in this Chapel of Herne, the
justice hall of Bedford. So you may e'en take that down, Master
Cobb"--this to the clerk of the peace--"for what I have told you is the
truth."
I looked at Mistress Constance's face again as he spoke, and for the
first time I saw fear in her eyes. She evidently dreaded something which
was of a fearful nature, and I sorely pitied her. Yet was my heart
filled with such a joy as I had never known before. In truth it seemed
to me that a great burden had rolled from my life, for it was no longer
a sin to love her. I no longer hated Sir Charles Denman as I hated him
before, even although my mind was filled with a great wonder at the
meaning of it all.
I could see that the presiding justice was so astonished that he could
not speak, while Master Cobb, the clerk of the peace, seemed busily
writing, only to scratch out what he had written.
"I pray you, Master Leslie," went on Sir William Franklin, the presiding
magistrate, "to speak plainly on this matter. You say that this woman is
not the wife of Sir Charles Denman, and that she is no man's wife. Do
you also say that it is not she who hath attempted the life of General
Monk?"
"I do say it, Sir William; she hath attempted no man's life, and is as
innocent of the whole matter as a babe but last night born."
"Then what meaneth all this turmoil? Why hath the warrant been issued?
Why hath she been captured and brought hither?"
I saw that he was much excited, and that because of it he forgot much of
the usual formalities of asking questions. I judged too that Master
Cobb, seemed to be hesitating between his desire to conduct the affair
after the usual order, and his great curiosity concerning what Master
Leslie was saying.
"If you, Sir William, will come with me apart for a moment, I will
explain all these matters to you," said Master Leslie, whereupon the
other justices protested, declaring that such was not the law of our
land. So Sir William had to concede that which was evidently against his
desire to his brother justices.
"What's said must be said in the open court," he said. Then realizing
that he had been conducting the affair in an unusual way he went on--
"Moreover, it is not you who are at present under examination. If you
elect to give evidence after the prisoner hath been examined I will
allow you to do so."
"Then let me say this," said Master Leslie, "whatever my daughter may
deny, or whatever she may refuse to tell, I shall e'en take a straight
course and tell everything which appertaineth to this business."
Upon that Master Leslie took a seat as near to his daughter as he was
able, while Master Cobb, evidently relieved that events were to take a
lawful course again, prepared to ask questions.
Again I looked around this little whitewashed hall, and looked at the
eager faces of the crowd. I have been told that many trials of note had
taken place in this Chapel of Herne, which was a building associated
with the Grammar School, and used as a justice court, but I doubt if
ever one caused more eagerness than that in which we were now engaged.
"I have asked you whether you were married to Sir Charles Denman. Will
you answer?"
"My father hath told you. There is, therefore, no need for me to reply."
"But it is necessary you should. Please tell the bench."
"No, I have never married him."
"Are you guilty or not guilty of attempting the life of General Monk?"
She looked at her father before replying, and reading in his face the
resolution to tell everything, she replied--
"I am not guilty."
"But you were seen in his house, you wounded his secretary."
"That is not true."
"What evidence have you whereby you can prove your innocence?"
"I can prove that I was not in London at all at that time."
"Where were you then?"
"I can answer that when I am brought before a proper tribunal."
"Do you assert that this is not a proper tribunal?"
"Yes. If it were, my accuser should be here to accuse me. You have no
right to try me here at all."
At this there was some discussion, and I believe that Master Cobb
maintained that in the strict meaning of the law, it was the duty of the
justices to detain her until she was formally charged by her accusers,
but they were too curious to allow this so they went on with the trial.
"You say you can prove that you were not in London at the time of the
attempted murder?"
"I can."
"Where were you at the time?"
"Answer, answer," said Master Leslie eagerly.
"I was in my father's house at Barnet."
"You say you can prove this?"
"I can prove it, Sir William, for I was myself there at the time. Also
there be servants who can take oath to it."
This was spoken by Master Leslie eagerly.
"Then how came you to be accused of this crime?"
A great fear came into her eyes again, and she looked towards her father
pleadingly.
At this Master Leslie spoke again.
"I have more than one daughter, Sir William, and if this guilt is to be
fastened on one of them, it must be fastened upon my daughter Dorcas,
who married Sir Charles Denman, and who lived in London. Thus, my
daughter here, knew nought of the outrage until after it was committed."
"But General Monk's secretary heard her say she was called Constance
Denman."
"I will explain that, although, as my daughter saith, this is not the
proper tribunal for her to be judged, but I will tell the truth so that
you may see that you do wrong by detaining her as a prisoner. My
daughter Dorcas is the wife of Sir Charles Denman, as I have said. God
hath not been pleased to give her the faculties of mind which He hath
been pleased to give to my daughter here, and she became the slave of
the man she married. It was her husband who commanded her to assume the
garb of this my daughter here, it was her husband who commanded her to
make it known that she was called Constance. Then," and here Master
Leslie's voice became tremulous, "after she had escaped, my daughter
Constance, who hath been unjustly imprisoned, in order to save her
sister, so great is her love for her, assisted her to keep in safe
hiding, and even appeared with Sir Charles Denman as his wife, in order
to attract all suspicion upon herself, and save her sister."
There was a silence which could almost be felt as he said this, and I
saw that the face of Mistress Constance was pale, as I thought with fear
and shame.
"Thus my daughter here is guilty of nought save of a great and
overmastering love for her sister," went on Master Leslie. "To save her
she hath allowed herself to be hunted like a fox, to save her she hath
travelled alone with her sister's husband."
The place had ceased to be a court of justice, and there was scarcely a
man there but who forgot that nought was being conducted as the law
provided.
"By this means she hath succeeded up to now in diverting attention from
her sister, neither would she even now have told what I have told."
"This is a strange story, Master Leslie," said the presiding justice.
"It is strange," said the other, "but I could not stand by and see my
innocent child suffer for her sister, and that is why I rode hither
through the night, so that she might be set at liberty forthwith."
"And where is your guilty daughter?"
"I do not say she is guilty. Nay, I am sure she was but the tool of the
man she married. But where she is now I know not, for never have I seen
her since the night when the thing was attempted. All I have known is
that my daughter here hath even made it known that she hath been in
various places, so that she might keep any from suspecting the
hiding-place of her sister. Of one thing I am sure, she is far away from
here, else had not my daughter Constance given herself up here in
Bedford. Therefore I pray you, Sir William, to let her return to my
house at Goodlands, until I can prove to his Majesty's judges that she
was not in London on the night when General Monk was in danger of his
life."
At this there was again a consultation among the justices, and I verily
believe that had not Master Leslie taken part in the king's father's
death, they would have done even as he had asked, but several of them
were strong Royalists, and hated Master Leslie and all his ways, while
the others who had sympathy with him were afraid that when the matter
came to the king's ears, he would be displeased at such a course of
action.
So it was presently decided that, although the case had taken an unusual
course, nought had yet been proved, and that seeing the king had taken
especial interest in the matter, he must be informed as to what had
taken place, and that meanwhile Mistress Constance must be confined in
Bedford Gaol until the will of those in high places had been made known.
When the matter of my own imprisonment was brought forward it was
decided that as I was evidently in league with Mistress Constance, and
that as I had been guilty of a grave breach of the law, I must also be
kept in prison until their worships had heard from London as to what
should be done with me.
A little after noon, therefore, I was back in my prison again, and if
the truth must be known, glad to be alone that I might think over what I
had heard. For surely I had enough wherewith to puzzle my head. It is
true the revelations which had been made had made clear many things
which I had been unable to understand, yet many more remained in
darkness, and in spite of many hours of thought I could see but little
light.
Nevertheless, there was no happier man in Bedford than I, for although I
knew that Mistress Constance cared nought for me, the way she had
looked at me in the court proved that, I could think of her and love her
without sin. And this I did until my heart ached with very loving.
For four days I neither saw nor heard aught of her, for the gaolers
would speak no word, neither did Master Sturgeon come near me, but at
the end of the fourth day I was told it was the king's will that we
should proceed to London town without delay.