The whole population of Much Bentley seemed to have turned out to
witness the arrest at the Blue Bell. Some were kindly and sympathising,
some bitter and full of taunts; but the greater number were simply
inquisitive, neither friendly nor hostile, but gossipping. It was now
four o'clock, a time at which half the people were up in the village,
and many a woman rose an hour earlier than her wont, in order to see the
strange sight. There were the carpenters with baskets of tools slung
over their shoulders; the gardeners with rake or hoe; the labourers with
their spades; the fishermen with their nets.
The Colne oyster-fishery is the oldest of all known fisheries in
England, and its fame had reached imperial Rome itself, nearly two
thousand years ago, when the Emperor Caligula came over to England
partly for the purpose of tasting the Colchester oyster. The oysters
are taken in the Colne and placed in pits, where they are fattened till
they reach the size of a silver oyster preserved among the town
treasures. In April or May, when the baby oyster first appears in the
river, it looks like a drop from a tallow candle; but in twenty-four
hours the shell begins to form. The value of the oyster spawn (as the
baby oysters are called) in the river, is reckoned at twenty thousand
pounds; and from five to ten thousand pounds' worth of oysters is sold
every year.
"Well, Master Mount, how like you your new pair o' bracelets?" said one
of the fishermen, as William Mount was led out, and his hands tied with
a rough cord.
"Friend, I count it honour to bear for my Lord that which He first bare
for me," was the meek answer.
"Father Tye 'll never preach a better word than that," said a voice in
the crowd.
Mr Simnel looked up as if to see who spoke.
"Go on with thy work, old cage-maker!" cried another voice. "We'll not
find thee more gaol-birds to-day than what thou hast."
"You'd best hold your saucy tongues," said the nettled Bailiff.
"Nay, be not so tetchy, Master Simnel!" said another. The same person
never seemed to speak twice; a wise precaution, since the speaker was
less likely to be arrested if he did not repeat the offence. "Five
slices of meat be enough for one man's supper."
This allusion to the number of the prisoners, and the rapacity of the
Bailiff, was received with laughter by the crowd. The Bailiff's temper,
never of the best, was quite beyond control by this time. He relieved
it by giving Mount a heavy blow, as he pushed him into line after tying
his wife to him.
"Hit him back, Father Mount!" cried one of the voices. William Mount
shook his head with a smile.
"I'll hit some of you--see if I don't!" responded the incensed Bailiff,
who well knew his own unpopularity.
"Hush, fellows!" said an authoritative voice. "Will ye resist the
Queen's servants?"
John Thurston and his wife were next tied together, and placed behind
the Mounts, the crowd remaining quiet while this was being done. Then
they brought Rose Allen, and fastened her, by a cord round her wrists,
to the same rope.
"Eh, Lord have mercy on the young maid!" said a woman's voice in a
compassionate tone.
"Young witch, rather!" responded a man, roughly.
"Hold thy graceless tongue, Jack Milman!" replied a woman's shrill
tones. "Didn't Rose Allen make broth for thee when we were both sick,
and go out of a cold winter night a-gathering herbs to ease thy pain?
Be shamed to thee, if thou knows what shame is, casting ill words at her
in her trouble!"
Just as the prisoners were marched off, another voice hitherto silent
seemed to come from the very midst of the crowd. It said,--
"Be ye faithful unto death, and Christ shall give you a crown of life."
"Take that man!" said the Bailiff, stopping.
But the man was not to be found. Nobody knew--at least nobody would
own--who had uttered those fearless words.
So the prisoners were marched away on the road to Colchester. They went
in at Bothal's Gate, up Bothal Street, and past the Black Friars'
monastery to the Castle.
Colchester Castle is one of the oldest castles in England, for it was
built by King Edward the Elder, the son of Alfred the Great. It is a
low square mass, with the largest Norman keep, or centre tower, in the
country. The walls are twelve feet thick, and the whole ground floor,
and two of the four towers, are built up perfectly solid from the
bottom, that it might be made as strong as possible. It was built with
Roman bricks, and the Roman mortar still sticks to some of them.
Builders always know Roman mortar, for it is so much harder than any
mortar people know how to make now--quite as hard as stone itself. The
chimneys run up through the walls.
The prisoners were marched up to the great entrance gate, on the south
side of the Castle. The Bailiff blew his horn, and the porter opened a
little wicket and looked out.
"Give you good-morrow, Master Bailiff. Another batch, I reckon?"
"Ay, another batch, belike. You'll have your dungeons full ere long."
"Oh, we've room enough and to spare!" said the porter with a grin.
"None so many, yet. Two men fetched in yestereven for breaking folks'
heads in a drunken brawl; and two or three debtors; and a lad for
thieving, and such; then Master Maynard brought an handful in this
morrow--Moot Hall was getting too full, he said."
"Ay so? who brought he?"
"Oh, Alegar o' Thorpe, and them bits o' children o' his, that should be
learning their hornbooks i' school sooner than be here, trow."
"You'd best teach 'em, Tom," suggested Mr Simnel with a grim smile.
"Now then, in with you!"
And the prisoners were marched into the Castle dungeon.
In the corner of the dungeon sat John Johnson, his Bible on his knee,
and beside him, snuggled close to him, Cissy. Little Will was seated on
the floor at his father's feet, playing with some bits of wood. Johnson
looked up as his friends entered.
"Why, good friends! Shall I say I am glad or sorry to behold you here?"
"Glad," answered William Mount, firmly, "if so we may glorify God."
"I'm glad, I know," said Cissy, jumping from the term, and giving a warm
hug to Rose. "I thought God would send somebody. You see, Father was
down a bit when we came here this morning, and left everybody behind us;
but you've come now, and he'll be ever so pleased. It isn't bad, you
know--not bad at all--and then there's Father. But, Rose, what have you
done to your hand? It's tied up."
"Hush, dear! Only hurt it a bit, Cissy. Don't speak of it," said Rose
in an undertone; "I don't want mother to see it, or she'll trouble about
it, maybe. It doesn't hurt much now."
Cissy nodded, with a face which said that she thoroughly entered into
Rose's wish for silence.
"Eh dear, dear! that we should have lived to see this day!" cried
Margaret Thurston, melting into tears as she sat down in the corner.
"Rose!" said her father suddenly, "thy left hand is bound up. Hast hurt
it, maid?"
Rose's eyes, behind her mother's back, said, "Please don't ask me
anything about it!" But Alice turned round to look, and she had to own
the truth.
"Why, maid! That must have been by the closet where I was hid, and I
never heard thee scream," said Margaret.
"Nay, Meg, I screamed not."
"Lack-a-day! how could'st help the same?"
"Didn't it hurt sore, Rose?" asked John Thurston.
"Not nigh so much as you might think," answered Rose, brightly. "At the
first it caused me some grief; but truly, the more it burned the less it
hurt, till at last it was scarce any hurt at all."
"But thou had'st the pot in thine other hand, maid; wherefore not have
hit him a good swing therewith?"
"Truly, Meg, I thank God that He held mine hand from any such deed.
`The servant of the Lord must not strive.' I should thus have
dishonoured my Master."
"Marry, but that may be well enough for angels and such like. _We_
dwell in this nether world."
"Rose hath the right," said William Mount. "We may render unto no man
railing for railing. `If we suffer as Christians, happy are we; for the
Spirit of glory and of God resteth upon us.' Let us not suffer as
malefactors."
"You say well, neighbour," added John Thurston. "We be called to the
defence of God's truth, but in no wise to defend ourselves."
"Nay, the Lord is the avenger of all that have none other," said Alice.
"But let me see thine hand, child, maybe I can do thee some ease."
"Under your good leave, Mother, I would rather not unlap it," replied
Rose. "Truly, it scarce doth me any hurt now; and I bound it well with
a wet rag, that I trow it were better to let it be. It shall do well
enough, I cast no doubt."
She did not want her mother to see how terribly it was burned. And in
her heart was a further thought which she would not put into words--If
they shortly burn my whole body, what need is there to trouble about
this little hurt to my hand?