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diff --git a/old/53010-0.txt b/old/53010-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c909920..0000000 --- a/old/53010-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8043 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Last Abbot of Glastonbury, by A. D. -(Augustine David) Crake - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Last Abbot of Glastonbury - A Tale of the Dissolution of the Monasteries - - -Author: A. D. (Augustine David) Crake - - - -Release Date: September 8, 2016 [eBook #53010] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY*** - - -E-text prepared by MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team -(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 53010-h.htm or 53010-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53010/53010-h/53010-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53010/53010-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/lastabbotofglast00crakrich - - - - - -[Illustration: “WHAT HAVE WE HERE? S. JOSEPH HELP US!” - -_Page 3._] - - -THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY. - -A Tale of the Dissolution of the Monasteries. - -by the - -REV. A. D. CRAKE, B.A., - -Fellow of the Royal Historical Society; Vicar of Havenstreet, I.W.; - -Author of -Fairleigh Hall, The Chronicles of Æscendune, The Camp on the -Severn, etc., etc. - - - - - - - -Oxford and London: -A. R. Mowbray & Co. - - - - -HISTORICAL PREFACE. - - -The Author humbly ventures to offer the ninth of his series of original -tales, illustrating Church History, to the public; encouraged by the -favourable reception the previous volumes have found. - -In the tales, “Æmilius,” “Evanus,” and “The Camp on the Severn,” he has -endeavoured to describe the epoch of the Pagan persecutions, under the -Roman Empire; in the “Three Chronicles of Æscendune,” successive epochs -of Early English history; in the “Andredsweald,” the Norman Conquest; -in “Fairleigh Hall,” the Great Rebellion; and in the _present_ volume, -one of the earliest of the series of events ordinarily grouped -under the general phrase “The Reformation,” the destruction of the -Monasteries. - -It is many years since the writer was first attracted and yet saddened -by the tragical story of the fate of the last Abbot of Glastonbury, and -amongst the tales by which he was wont to enliven the Sunday evenings -in a large School, this narrative found a foremost place, and excited -very general interest. - -A generation ago, few English Churchmen cared to say a good word for -the unhappy monks, who suffered so cruel a persecution at the hands of -Henry the Eighth and his vicar-general, Thomas Cromwell. Many, indeed, -confessed a sentimental regret when they visited the ruins of such -glorious fanes as Tintern, Reading, or Furness, and reflected that but -for the vandalism of the period, such buildings might yet vie with the -cathedrals, with which they were coeval, and if not retained for their -original uses, might yet be devoted to the service of religion and -humanity, in various ways; but the fear of being supposed to betray -a leaning to the doctrines once taught within these ruined walls, has -prevented many a writer from doing justice to the sufferers under -atrocious tyranny. - -Yet did an act of parliament now pass the legislature giving the -various episcopal palaces, deaneries, rectories, and vicarages in -England, with all their furniture, to the Crown, and were the present -occupants ruthlessly ejected, and hung, drawn, and quartered in case of -resistance, active or passive, the injustice would not be greater, the -outrage on the rights of property more flagrant, than in the case of -the monasteries. - -The late Rev. W. Gresley, in his tale, “The Forest of Arden,” was (so -far as the writer remembers) the first writer of historical fiction, -amongst modern Churchmen, who attempted to render justice to our -forefathers, who, born and bred under the papal supremacy, could not -disguise their convictions, or transfer their allegiance to a lustful -tyrant. - -But even he spake with “bated breath” when compared with Dean Hook, -who, later on, thus writes in his lives of the Archbishops of -Canterbury:-- - - “To an Englishman, taught to regard his house as his castle, - these acts of invasion on property appear to be monstrous; our - blood boils within us when we learn that by blending the Acts - of Supremacy with the Treason Acts the Protestant enthusiasts - under Cromwell condemned to death not fewer than 59 persons, - who, however mistaken they were in their opinions, were as - honest as Latimer, and more firm than Cranmer. - - “Of the murders of Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas Moore, the - former the greatest patron of learning, the latter ranking with - the most learned men the age produced, both of them men of - undoubted piety, the reader must not expect in these pages a - justification or even an attempt at palliation; we should be as - ready to accord the crown of martyrdom to the Abbots of Reading - and _Glastonbury_ and to the Prior of S. John’s, Colchester, - when rather than betray their trust they died, as we are to - place it on the heads of Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer. Although - the latter had the better cause, yet we must all admit that - atrocious as were the proceedings under Mary and Bonner, the - persecutions under Henry and Cromwell fill the mind with - greater horror.” - -But it may be asked, were not the atrocious crimes laid to the -charge of the monks in the celebrated “Black Book,” the “Compendium -compertorum,” a sufficient justification? Did not the very parliament -at the recital cry “Down with them.” - -The opinion of such parliaments as those which passed the absurd and -bloody treason acts dictated by Henry, or which condemned so many -innocent victims by Acts of Attainder, or passed those most atrocious -acts, “the Vagrant Acts,” by which a cruel form of slavery was -established in England, only England would not put it in practice,--the -professed opinion of such parliaments will weigh little with modern -Englishmen. - -But it appears that the very accusers themselves, or at least -the Government who employed them, could not have believed in the -accusations; for no less than eleven of the Abbots were made Bishops -to save the Government their pensions, and some of them men against -whom the worst charges had been made; others became deans, and others -were put into positions of trust, as parochial priests, under Cranmer -himself. - -And who were the witnesses? Their leader, Dr. London, was put to -penance for the most grievous incontinency, and afterwards thrown into -prison _for perjury_, where he died miserably. Another, Layton, who -figures in the tale, becoming dean of York, pawned the cathedral plate. -Upon the testimony of such witnesses one would not hang a dog. - -But this is not the place for an investigation of the subject, nor is -it one to be commended to the pure-minded reader, such garbage did -these venal and foul-mouthed spies invent to justify the rapacity of -their employers. Not that we would maintain the absolute purity of the -monasteries, or that there was no foundation whatsoever upon which -such a superstructure was reared: many of the brotherhoods had fallen -far below the high ideal of their profession, or even the spiritual -attainments of their brethren in earlier and better days; but there -is absolute proof that in many instances the reports of the visitors -were pure inventions. No just Lots were they, “vexed with the filthy -conversation of the wicked,” but men of evil imaginations, who were -paid to invent scandal if they could not find it.[1] - -I have not, therefore, hesitated to make the sufferings of the last -Abbot of Glastonbury the theme of a story, but while I have adhered to -the main facts of the tragedy, I have availed myself somewhat of the -usual license accorded to all writers of historical fiction, justified -by the example of the great and revered founder of the school, Sir -Walter Scott. - -In particular, the words put into the mouth of the Abbot, both in his -last sermon at Glastonbury and in the trial at Wells, were actually -used by his fellow-sufferer, the Prior of the Charterhouse, John -Houghton, under precisely similar circumstances: the reader will find -the whole of the touching story in the second volume of Froude’s -“History of England;” it is well worth perusal. - -It may be objected that one so young as the hero of the latter portion -of the story, “Cuthbert the foundling,” could scarcely have been -exposed to the operation of the Treason Acts, or required to take the -oath of supremacy, in his twenty-first year; but there are examples -of sufferers under this _régime_ at a more tender age: a month or two, -more or less, made small difference in the Tudor period, especially -when the interests of the Crown were concerned, or the will of the -despot expressed. The concealment of the Abbey treasure, and the -sympathy of the Abbot with the Pilgrimage of Grace (how could he be -otherwise disposed) are matters of history. - -An attempt has been made, within our memory, by a modern historian, -to whitewash the memory of the royal “Blue Beard,” under whom such -fearful atrocities were committed; we are asked to believe that the -Carthusians, dying dismembered and mutilated in so horrible a manner, -or in the filth of the fetid dungeons in which they were thrown, that -the aged Countess of Salisbury flying about the scaffold with her -gray hairs dabbled in blood, that the Protestants who were burnt, and -Catholics who were drawn and quartered, sometimes on the same day and -at the same place, that such victims as Fisher, More, and Surrey, were -all unwilling sacrifices to a high sense of duty on the part of the -king who slew them, who also was a right honourable husband, plagued by -unworthy wives, and hence deserving of the pity of married men. - -But to the writer, the following paragraph from a deservedly popular -history, appears more nearly to represent the truth:-- - - “The temper of such a legislator as Henry the Eighth, and the - thorough subservience, the otherwise _incredible_ cowardice and - baseness of his parliaments, can only be fully exhibited by an - enumeration of their penal laws, which for number, variety, - severity, and inconsistency are perhaps unequalled in the - annals of jurisprudence. - - “Instead of the calmness, the foresight, and the wisdom which - are looked for in a legislator, we find the wild fantasies and - ever-changing, though ever selfish caprices of a spoiled child, - joined to the blind fierce malignant passions of a brutal and - cruel savage. It would seem as if the disembodied demon of a - Caligula or a Nero, the evil spirit that once bore their human - form, had again become incarnate upon earth, let loose for some - wise (though to dull mortal eyes, dimly discerned) end, to - repeat in a distant age, and another clime that same strange, - wild, extravagant medley of buffoonery and horror, which is - fitted to move at once the laughter and execration of mankind.” - (_Knight’s Pictorial History_). - -This is strong language, but when one rises from a perusal of the deeds -committed during this reign of terror, it seems justified. - -The destruction also of the monastic libraries, and the decay of -solid learning (Latimer being witness), must ever be regretted by -the scholar. Fuller tells us that “the English monks were bookish of -themselves, and much inclined to hoard up monuments of learning.” But -all these treasures were ruthlessly destroyed or scattered, including -books and valuable MS., which would now be worth their weight in gold. -John Ball, by no means a _laudator temporis acti_, wrote to Edward -VI.:-- - - “A number of them which purchased these superstitious mansions - (the monasteries) reserved of their library books, some to - serve their jakes, some to scour their candlesticks, and some - to rub their boots, some they sold to the grocers and soap - sellers; and some they sent over sea to the bookbinders--not - in small number, but at times whole ships full. ... I know a - merchant man, which shall at this time be nameless, that bought - the contents of two noble libraries for forty shillings a - piece. A shame it is to be spoken. This stuff hath he occupied - instead of grey paper by the space of more than these ten - years, and yet he hath store enough for as many years to come.” - -It is true the monks were accused of leading idle lives; but to the -unlearned, especially those who get their bread by physical labour, the -student poring over his books is always “a drone.” - -It may be most true that the monastic system, so serviceable in -the middle ages, the only shelter for peaceful men in the midst of -bloodshed and strife, the only refuge for learning amongst the densely -ignorant, had had its day; that the hospitals, the almshouses, the -workhouses, the schools and colleges, do all the work they once did, -and do it better, that in the ages, then to come, they could have -filled no useful purpose had they survived. - -Well! supposing this granted, does it in any way justify the cruelty -of the suppression? The judicious Hallam well observes, that “it is -impossible to feel too much indignation at the spirit in which these -proceedings were conducted.” Had vested and life interests been -respected, had the admission of further novices been prohibited, and -the buildings themselves, when no longer needed, utilized as hospitals -and colleges, and the like; whatever men might think of the change, -they would at least admit the moderation of the government; but what -consideration can justify the intolerable barbarity of the persecutions. - -Two questions may be asked, first, what became of the monks, nearly -a hundred thousand, in a population of some three millions, who were -thus, with the most meagre of pensions, cruelly turned out of house and -home. - -It must be replied that a large number, in fact all who could by any -contrivance be brought under the scope of either of the numerous laws -involving capital punishment, perished by the hand of the executioner. -For example, begging in the first instance was punished by whipping, -in the second by mutilation, and in the third the beggar was doomed -“to suffer pains and execution of death as a felon, and enemy of -the commonwealth.”[2] This cruel law, which was probably drawn up -by Henry himself, was doubtless aimed especially at the unfortunate -monks, who unfitted for labour by their sedentary lives, and unable -to obtain work, would often be forced to the dreadful alternative of -starvation or hanging. How many starving monks must have fallen into -this dreadful trap, for their pensions even if regularly paid were -miserably insufficient, and preferred to hang than to starve; doubtless -they formed a large proportion of the eighty thousand criminals, who -are said to have perished, by the hands of the executioner, in this -dreadful reign. - -Secondly: what became of the monastic property amounting, it has been -said, to a sum equivalent to fifty millions sterling of our present -money, which was to have almost superseded taxation, and accomplished -other wonderful ends? It disappeared under Henry’s incomprehensible -extravagance, and at the hands of his greedy courtiers; and not only -was he forced in his latter days to debase the currency, but moreover -in the last November of his life, his venal parliament conferred upon -him the absolute disposal of all colleges, charities, and hospitals in -the kingdom, with all their manors, lands, and hereditaments, receiving -only in return his gracious promise that they should all be applied for -the public good. Had God not summoned the tyrant to give an account -of his stewardship, within two months of the act, we might not have -had a college, school, almshouse, or hospital left in England, any -more than a monastery; “had he survived a little while longer,” says -the impartial writer I have before quoted, “he would not have left an -hospital for the care of the sick, or a school for the instruction of -youth.” - -But I have already taxed the patience of my readers; I have promised -them a tale and instead I am writing an essay. - -A. D. C. - -_December, 1883._ - - -FOOTNOTES - -[1] The reader will find this subject fully and fairly treated in the -sixth chapter of the Rev. J. H. Blunt’s “History of the Reformation” -and the first introductory chapter of the first volume of the new -series of Dean Hook’s “Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury,” from -which I have already quoted. - -[2] 22 Henry VIII. Cap. 12, and 27 Henry VIII. Cap. 25. - - - - -INDEX. - - - CHAP. PAGE. - - PART I.--The Last Abbot. - - PROLOGUE 1 - - 1.--ALL HALLOW EVEN 7 - - 2.--RETROSPECT 16 - - 3.--THE SECRET CHAMBER 27 - - 4.--THE ARREST 33 - - 5.--THE ROAD-SIDE INN 44 - - 6.--THE TRIAL 55 - - 7.--GLASTONBURY TOR 65 - - 8.--ON THE TRACK 74 - - 9.--IN THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY 91 - - PART II.--Cuthbert the Foundling. - - 1.--THE OLD MANOR HOUSE 101 - - 2.--AN EVENTFUL RAMBLE 111 - - 3.--AN ACT OF GRATITUDE 122 - - 4.--EXETER GAOL 135 - - 5.--PUT TO THE QUESTION 145 - - 6.--AN UNEXPECTED DISCLOSURE 154 - - 7.--CASTLE REDFYRNE 164 - - 8.--LED FORTH TO DIE 177 - - 9.--BREATHING TIME 187 - - 10.--THE SHADOWS DARKEN 198 - - 11.--AN ANCIENT INN 210 - - 12.--THE HAND OF GOD 221 - - 13.--THE TRUST FULFILLED 232 - - 14.--SUUM CUIQUE TRIBUITUR 243 - - EPILOGUE 252 - - NOTES 257 - - - - -_ERRATUM._ - - -_Page 169, line 5, Read_ appetens _for_ appietens. - - - - -PART I. - -_The Last Abbot._ - - - They built in marble; built as they - Who hoped these stones should see the day - When Christ should come; and that these walls - Might stand o’er them till judgment calls. - - - - -THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY, - -_A TALE OF THE DAYS OF HENRY VIII_. - - - - -Prologue. - - -It is a cold wintry night in the year 1524, the fifteenth of the high -and mighty Lord, Henry, Eighth of that name, “by the grace of God King -of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,” as the heralds vainly style him. - -All day long the clouds have been hanging over the forest of Avalon, -heavy and dull as lead, and now towards eventide they descend in snow, -an east wind arises, which blows the flakes before it, with such -frantic violence, that their direction seems almost parallel to the -earth, penetrating every nook of the forest, filling each hollow. - -Darkness descends upon the earth, as the storm increases; it is dark -everywhere, but darkest in the depths of the sombre wood, amidst the -tangled copse, beneath the bare branches of the huge oaks, which wave -wildly as if in torture, and anon fall with a crash which startles the -boldest beasts of the forest. - -A road leads through the heart of this mighty wood, leads towards -the famous Abbey-town of Glastonbury, where as folks say Joseph of -Arimathæa arrived long ago, and planting his staff, which grew like -Aaron’s rod, and put forth buds, determined the site of the future -Benedictine Monastery. Do they not yet show the strange foreign thorn -tree which grew from that holy staff?[3] - -But we are in the wood, and happy were it for us, if we could but rest -before the huge fire which imagination pictures in that far off great -chamber of the Abbey. - -Through the darkness comes a step softly falling on the snow; it draws -nearer, and dim outlines become distinct. It is a woman and she carries -an infant. - -A woman and her child out to-night! the Saints preserve them, -especially S. Joseph of Glastonbury; with what a timid glance too she -looks behind her from time to time. Does she fear pursuit? - -See how she clasps the child to her breast, how she wraps her robe -around it, regardless of the exposure of her own person: poor mother, -what has brought her out in this wild night? Alas, her strength seems -failing: see she stumbles, almost falls, the wind blows so fiercely -that she can hardly stand against it,--she stumbles again. - -We, as invisible spectators, stand beneath the shade, or what would -be in summer the shade of a spreading beech; around its base there is -a mossy bank, gently rising, or rather _would_ be were it not covered -with snow. - -She approaches the tree and falls on the slope as one who _can_ do no -more, who gives up the struggle. - -Still she shelters the poor babe. - -An hour passes away, she lies as if dead, only there is a ceaseless cry -from the child, and from time to time a faint moan from the mother. - -Look, there is a light in the wood; it is moving, and now a heavy step, -crushing the frozen snow; it is a countryman, and he carries a horn -lantern. - -A dog, a shepherd’s dog, runs by his side. - -Will the man pass the tree?--yes _he_ may but the dog will not; see he -is “pointing,” and now he runs to his master, and takes hold of the -skirts of his smock. - -“What have we here? S. Joseph help us! a woman! Why mistress what -doest thou here? Get up, or thou wilt be frozen stiff and stark before -morning.” - -Only a moan in answer: he stoops down and gently, for a rustic, looks -at her face; he does not know her, but he sees by the dress and by -something indescribable in the face, that she is one of “gentle blood.” - -“Canst thou not move?” - -Another moan. - -He strives to raise her, and the dog looks wistfully on, as if in full -sympathy. Thy canine heart, poor Tray, is softer than that of the men -who drove her forth to-night. - -Ah, that is right; she takes courage, strives to rise,--no, she is down -again. - -“I cannot,” she says, “my limbs are frozen; take the child, save my -Cuthbert.” - -“I would fain save you both,” says the man, but he strives in vain to -do so, it is beyond his power to carry them, and _she_ can move no -further; she but rises to sink again on the bank, her limbs have lost -their power. - -“Take my child,” she says once more, “and leave me to die; heaven is -kinder than man, and the good angels are very near.” - -The yeoman, for such he is, hesitates, “No one shall say that Giles -Hodge forsook thee in thy strait, yet, there is the keeper’s cottage -within a mile, if I run and take the babe, I may come back and save -thee.” - -“Go, go, for heaven’s sake, my boy _must_ live, his precious life -_must_ be saved, then come back for me; he is the heir of”-- - -Here her voice failed her. - -“She speaks the words of wisdom,” says Giles, and he takes the babe, -leaving the shawl wrapped round the mother. - -“Nay, the shawl, take the shawl for the babe.” - -“I can carry it ’neath my smock, and ’twill come to no harm, thou -wouldst die without it.” - -She starts up, imprints one fervent kiss upon the babe ere it leaves -her; alas, it is the last feeble outcome of strength. - -Giles runs along the road, as fast as the ground, heavy with snow, and -the wind, will permit him; he reaches the house of Stephen Ringwood, -the deputy keeper; it is now Curfew time, and the honest woodman is -just putting out his fire to go to bed. - -“Stephen, Stephen,” shouts Giles, as he knocks at the door. - -A loud and heavy barking from the throats of deep-chested dogs. - -“Who is there?” - -“Thy old crony, Giles Hodge; open to me at once.” - -The door opens. “What Saint has sent thee here! and a babe too?” - -“Oh, Stephen, come directly, and help me bring the _mother_ in; she is -out in the snow, spent with toil, and if we arrive not soon she will be -_dead_.” - -“I have some warm milk on the fire; here, Susan, give some to the babe -and give me the rest,” and putting it into a horn, the two started -back, leaving the infant with the keeper’s wife. - -They reach the tree again. - -How still she is. - -Giles trembles, bless his tender heart. It is no discredit to thy -manhood, Giles. - -“Yes, she is dead, she has given her last kiss to the babe.” - -They put together some short poles and cord they have brought, which -make a sort of litter. - -“Carry her gently, Stephen,” says Giles as he wipes his eyes with the -sleeves of his smock, “carry her gently, she said the good angels were -near her, and I believe they are watching us now, if they are not on -the road to paradise with her soul.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[3] See Note A., Antiquities of Glastonbury. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_ALL-HALLOW EVEN._ - - -It was the All-Hallow Even of the year 1538, and the first Evensong of -the festival of All Saints had been sung, in the noble Abbey Church -of Glastonbury, with all those solemn accessories, which gave such -dignity, yet such mystery, to the services of the mediæval Church of -England. - -The air was yet redolent with the breath of incense, the solemn notes -of the Gregorian psalmody yet seemed to echo through the lofty aisles, -as the long procession of the Benedictine brethren left the choir, and -passed in procession down the church, the Abbot in his gorgeous robes -closing the procession. - -A noble looking old man was he, that Richard Whiting,--last and not -least of the hundred mitred Abbots who had filled that seat of honour -and dignity since the first conversion of England. A face full of -sweet benignity--one which inspired reverence while it commanded love. -His life had been distinguished throughout by the virtues which had -ever found congenial home at Glastonbury--piety towards God, and love -towards man. - -And now the lay congregation who filled the noble nave and aisles, -beyond the transept, were leaving the church; the lights were slowly -extinguished, and the gloom of the wintry evening was filling the -church, save where the one solitary light burnt all night before the -high altar. - -In the porch, after the doors were closed, stood the sacristan and a -young acolyte--one of the choristers, for since a large school was -attached to the monastery, they had the assistance of a youthful choir. -It was a bright happy face, that of the boy, upon which the moon shone -brightly, as he bade “good night” to the sacristan--saying that he -had leave to spend the evening at home, and should not return till -morning--then passed with light footsteps through the Abbey precincts, -and then across a green, to some distant cottages which skirted the -common land. Let us describe him more fully. He was somewhat sunburnt -in complexion, with brown hair, and had those blue eyes, beneath long -dark eye-brows, which give a sort of dreamy expression to the face, -but the features were redeemed from the charge of effeminacy by the -bold open brow, the firm thin lips, and by the nose which was slightly -aquiline. - -His dress was studiously simple, yet very unlike that of modern days, -but if my youthful readers have ever met a “blue coat boy” they will -have no difficulty in picturing the attire of the period. To sum up, he -was a lad whose appearance inspired interest, as we hope his fortunes, -to be herein depicted, will do, for they were passing strange. - -It was a picturesque house before which he stopped--a cottage overgrown -with ivy, not unlike those cottages, now alas fast vanishing, which -may be met in many an Oxfordshire village--and which strolling artists -delight to paint, lovely to look at, but not so comfortable, it may be, -as the new style of brick and slate tenements, which painters would -disdain to transfer to canvas. - -The fire within shone brightly through the windows, and the flickering -light made the heart of Cuthbert, for such was his name, leap with the -anticipation of the joys of the ingle-nook,--the endearments of home. - -He lifted the latch without knocking, and entered; an aged man and -woman sat by the fire, a comely old couple, who were eager, in spite of -their infirmities, to greet the darling of their old age. - -And was not there a meal spread on the table near the fire? It was not -“tea,” that beverage was yet unknown, but there was plenty to tempt a -boy’s appetite, and the frosty air had sharpened Cuthbert’s. - -And when it was over, and the old man sat in his high-backed arm-chair, -the grandmother went out and the lad went into the “chimney corner” to -his favourite seat. - -“Chimney corner!” what a nook of delight on the winter’s evening, when -the snow-flakes steal gently down the chimney and hiss as they meet the -blazing logs! Well does the writer remember filling such a seat many -winters ago. - -“Grandfather, do you remember that this night is Hallow-e’en, when all -the ghosts are abroad? I want you to tell me something about them--the -old tales which used to make my flesh creep when I was younger.” - -“Why, boy, it is thought to be a night when the dead can’t rest quiet -in their graves, though why they should not rest on a holy night like -this I can hardly tell.” - -“Did you ever see a ghost? Oh, here is grandmother with nuts, apples, -and ale! Why do we always eat nuts and apples on Hallow-e’en?” - -“They always have been eaten to-night, that is all I know; sometimes -they tie up an apple with a string to the beam, and when they have tied -the hands, set the young ones to eat it with the help of their teeth -only--catch who catch can.” - -“And about the nuts?” - -“Oh, lads and maidens who are in love with each other will take two -nuts, and call them _lad_ and _lass_: if they burn quietly together -they conclude that they will have a happy wedded life, but if _lad_ or -_lass_ bounce out of the fire, that there will be strife and quarrels -between them, in which case, dear boy, I think they had better not go -together to the altar; better live apart than have nought but strife -and quarrels.”[4] - -“But I wanted to ask you about something more wonderful than this; -the boys were saying, when we were talking about Hallow-e’en in the -cloisters, that if you went into the church porch at midnight, you -would see the _fetches_[5] of all the folk who are to die this year -come and choose the place for their graves.” - -“I have heard the tale, and don’t believe it; it is all nonsense, my -boy.” - -“Anyhow I promised that I would go and see to-night.” - -“Nay, my child, you must be in bed and asleep at midnight, and I do not -think you would _dare_ to try.” - -“That is what they said, the other boys I mean, and they _dared_ me to -go.” - -“I don’t think you would catch a ghost, but I think you would catch -your death of cold, it is freezing sharply to-night.” - -Cuthbert thought it best to drop the subject, lest he should be -forbidden to make the adventure, upon which he had set his heart, not -without some trepidation, but still with the longing to be the hero of -the occasion, who should test the truth of the legend--for he had bound -himself to his schoolfellows to make the experiment, and there was much -speculation as to the probable results. - -After a very pleasant evening the hour of bed-time approached. Our -ancestors thought Curfew (8 p.m.) the proper time for retiring, and -nine was looked upon as a very late hour. - -So, soon after Curfew had rung from the tower of the Abbey, the embers -of the fire were “raked out,” and the old couple retired to their -rooms, after seeing Cuthbert safe in his little chamber, which opened -upon the roof. - -The rudeness of the furniture in those days has been somewhat -exaggerated by modern writers; indeed we are apt to conclude, because -in this nineteenth century such progress has been made in the arts -of civilization as puts us quite upon a different footing from -our grandfathers, that a similar difference existed between those -grandfathers themselves and _their_ ancestors. But it was not so, there -was scant difference between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries in -this respect. - -So in Cuthbert’s room there was a comfortable bed, on a carved wooden -bedstead, a chair, a table, a chest for clothes, and the like, much as -in the present day.[6] - -The lad did not undress, but, after he had said his prayers, lay down -on the bed in his clothes, and did what he could to keep himself awake, -till the time came for his adventure. - -He counted the hours as the Abbey clock struck, until _eleven_ boomed -forth, when he rose, put on his doublet, opened the door, and went very -softly down stairs. - -He listened at his grandfather’s room as he went by--they were fast -asleep, he heard their breathing. He descended to the “living” room, -opened the outer door carefully, and stole forth. - -Once on the green, the freshness of the air and the bright moonlight -revived him; he felt his spirits rise in spite of the involuntary chill -which now and then crept over him. - -He reached the grave-yard of the parish church, for this had been -selected as the scene of the experiment, since the monks would be -singing the night office in the Abbey. - -And as he went through the church-yard to the porch, he could not help -looking timorously from side to side, it seemed so strange to be alone -with the dead, when the living were asleep; he was glad to get inside, -the shadows of the yew trees looked so ghastly on the cold graves, and -the chill moon looked upon the last low resting places with such a -ghostly light. - -He tried the door of the church; it was locked, as usual at that hour. - -There was a broad bench on each side the porch; he sat and waited. - -And I think he fell asleep and dreamt, but this was the story he told. - -When the clock tolled the hour of midnight the last sound of the bell -was prolonged, as if the organ in its softest tones had taken up the -note; the music grew louder, until the introit of the Mass for the dead -pealed out distinctly. - -“Requiem æternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.” - -Then as he started up in amazement, the door swung open, and the -“fetches or doubles” of those who were to die that year, that is, their -ghostly likenesses, came out to seek their graves. - -And there were many whom the boy knew, but last of all came out from -the church the form of his benefactor, Richard Whiting, Lord Abbot of -Glastonbury. - -And around his neck there hung a ghastly cord, and close by his side -followed Prior and Sub-Prior, and cords were about their necks too. - -Then the boy grew faint, and knew no more till he awoke, or recovered -from his faint, whichever it was, and returning home, undressed, -shivering as he did so, and went to bed. - -When he afterwards told this tale, there were many who refused to -believe that he had ever left his bed, and always insisted that he had -_dreamt_ the scene in the porch. - -But if it was a dream, it was not without inspiration. - -Coming events cast their shadows before. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[4] See Note B. - -[5] See Note C. - -[6] An ancient inventory of the furniture of such a house lies before -the writer as he pens these lines. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_RETROSPECT._ - - -Three centuries and more have rolled away since the dissolution of -the monasteries, which once rose in architectural beauty in each -district of mediæval England, gladdening the eye of the wayfarer with -the assurance of hospitality, and of the poor with that of help and -protection. - -Their pious founders built in marble-- - - “Built as they - Who hoped those stones should see the day - When Christ should come; and that those walls - Might stand o’er them till judgment calls.” - -Alas! for such hopes; the tyrant Tudor, taking advantage of the -palpable declension of the inmates from their first love, levelled them -with the ground, and left the country shorn of such glorious fanes as -arose over the conquerors at Battle, or the tombs of the mighty dead at -Glastonbury. Yet still they had welcomed the wayfarer and the stranger, -tended the sick, taught the young, found labour for the poor, were -good masters to their tenants, built bridges, made roads, and were the -centres of civilization in their several districts. - -Two rebellions ruthlessly extinguished in blood--the pilgrimage of -grace, and the later rising in Devon and Cornwall--testified to the -popular sense of loss when the servile courtier, ever the tyrant at -home, had succeeded to the gentle old monks. - -For all that is now done for the poor, and too often in a wooden kind -of way by workhouses, hospitals, and the like, was then done by the -monasteries, and their suppression was a cruel wrong to the poor. - -Reformed, they needed to be, or they had never fallen, but that the -treasures given by their founders in trust for God and His poor should -pass into the hands of Henry’s fawning courtiers was too monstrous an -iniquity. - -The legendary history of Glastonbury has been told by the author -before,[7] its supposed foundation by S. Joseph of Arimathæa, devoutly -believed in in that credulous age, and the holy thorn-tree which -blossomed from the staff which he there struck into the ground; _there_ -King Arthur was buried, and his body found after the lapse of ages; -_there_, like a city set on a hill, the lamp of faith had been kept -burning for forty generations, if alas, tarnished (which we sadly own) -by superstition and credulity. - -Amongst other good works, they educated the young of Christ’s flock, -for at Glastonbury there was a school of two or three hundred boys, -who were taught by the learned Benedictines of the Abbey; for the -Benedictines were the scholars of the day. - -The discipline was somewhat severe, and the life hard, as modern boys -would think it. - -The hour of rising, summer or winter, was four; they breakfasted at -five, after the service of Lauds in the chapel, upon beef and beer on -ordinary days, and on a dish of sprats or herrings instead of meat on -fast days. - -Then to their lessons, and we shall grieve our younger readers when we -tell that Solomon was held in much respect, and therefore the rod was -freely used in case of idleness or insubordination; but of the latter -there was very little under monastic discipline. - -There was a short space for recreation before the chapter Mass at nine -o’clock, which all attended, after which work was resumed until Sext, -which was followed by a simple but hearty dinner. - -There was again another period of work in the afternoon, after Nones, -but as it was necessary that the boys should not be behind the world -in physical prowess, ample leisure was afforded for exercise and rough -sports. - -Modern schoolboys complain of compulsory football; their remote -ancestors had little choice in such matters, whether schoolboys or -rustic lads on the village green. By Act of Parliament, tutors in the -one case, or magistrates in the other, were bound to see that the lads -under their jurisdiction, omitting idle sports, did exercise themselves -in archery, the broad-sword exercise, the tilt yard, and such-like -martial pastimes. - -Fighting, or mock-fighting--and the imitation was not altogether unlike -the reality--was alike the amusement and the chief accomplishment -of life, especially in England, which had then, not without cause, -the reputation of being the “fiercest nation in Europe.” “English -wild beasts,” an Italian writer calls them, yet who would not prefer -the manly and honest Englishman to the Italian of the day, with his -poisoners and bravoes? - -And our readers must imagine how the Glastonbury boys were excited -by such stories as that of the four hundred London apprentices, who -went out as volunteers to the garrison of Calais, and kept all the -neighbouring districts of France in terror, until they were overwhelmed -by _six_ times their number, and died fighting with careless -desperation to the last. - -So, even in the calm atmosphere of a monastery school, the world -intruded. - -As for their book-lore, they learned Latin practically, for they were -forced to use it during a great part of the day in conversation, -while they read daily in the Fathers and classical authors. Fabyan’s -Chronicles and other old English historians supplied their history, and -they were fairly instructed in the rudiments of mathematics. Altogether -it was a sound education which the monastic school supplied. - -We will now proceed with our story, after a digression which may be -easily omitted by those who dislike to understand what they read. - - * * * * * - -The reader has, we doubt not, already identified the hero of the -midnight adventure in the church porch, with the babe of our prologue. - -Honest old Giles Hodge had told the whole story to the Abbot, within -whose jurisdiction the babe was found, and with whom he sought an early -interview. Strict search had been made after the surviving parent, if -perchance there was one upon whom that epithet could be bestowed. - -But no trace was found; only the delicate apparel of the lady, and -the fine linen in which the child was wrapped, led to the conclusion -that they were members of some “gentle house.” Upon the linen there -were marks: a crest which had been picked out, and two initials yet -remaining, “C. R.” - -“The poor little foundling shall be our care,” said the good Abbot, -“but here alack, we have no nursery, and your good wife, who has -so recently lost her own babe, must be his foster mother if she be -willing. I will provide for his maintenance hereafter, whether in the -cloister or the world, unless his friends claim him.” - -“And what name shall we give him, your reverence?” - -“Let me see, C must be his Christian name; let us call him Cuthbert, -better patron than S. Cuthbert he could not have; the R must yet be a -mystery--he will not need two names yet.” - -So the years rolled by; Cuthbert grew up strong and hearty, but no one -ever came to claim him. And he was still known only by _one_ name, a -peculiarity little commented upon where his story was so well known. - -He grew up a general favourite, especially, it was supposed, with the -Abbot; and yet the self-restrained austere old man showed little traces -of such weakness, save to very observant eyes. - -He loved the young, one and all, and often visited the school. He knew -every face there, and it was a great delight to him to watch them at -their sports, perhaps recalling his own younger days, when Henry the -Seventh was King. - -In time little Cuthbert was chosen to be a chorister, and soon -afterwards, by the Abbot’s desire, he was made an “acolyte,”--one who -served at the altar,--and there his reverent and unassuming demeanour -won him yet further regard. - -But my readers must not think him the least bit of a milksop; they -know, I trust, that the bravest lad is he who fears God, and fears -nought besides. Cuthbert was not one of those lads who _talked_ much -about religion, if there were such then, nor again one who courted -notice by obtrusive acts of devotion--his religion was of a manlier -type. - -And meanwhile, as we shall show, he gained the respect of his -companions by his proficiency in manly sports and exercises; he was one -of the best archers, one of the best at fencing and sword play; in the -tilt yard he was always up to the mark. In the same way some of the -best boys I remember at a certain school were conspicuous at football -and cricket, the modern equivalents. - - * * * * * - -It was a fine evening in May, and all the lads of Glastonbury School -were in the archery ground. A silver arrow had to be contended for as a -prize--the prize of the year--and there were many competitors. - -All Glastonbury looked on at the sport; many were there who had been -great archers themselves in their youth, and who, like Nestor of old, -were never tired of talking of the great things that had been done when -they were young. - -For full two hundred years had gunpowder been in common use, yet all -that time the bow held its own; an arrow would fly much farther than -the bullets of that day, nay of much later days, for it was actually -ordered by Act of Parliament, in the directions to the villages, for -the maintenance of “buttes,” that no person of full age should shoot -with the light-flight arrow at a less distance than two hundred and -twenty yards, that is a whole furlong: under that distance the heavy -war arrow had to be used in all trials of skill.[8] - -And now four lads of fourteen stand forth to contend for the prize; the -target is a furlong off, the arrows, light ones, in regard to the age -of the competitors. - -We will introduce them to our readers in proper order. - -There stands Gregory Bell, son of the squire of a neighbouring village, -tall and slim, but tough in muscle, and very sound in wind and limb; -his round face and laughing black eyes will be remembered many a day. -His long-bow is long indeed,--three fingers thick, and six feet long, -well got up, polished, and without knots; few English boys could bend -it now, it came of practice. - -He draws the bow--the light arrow cleaves the air--he has struck the -first circle of blue, not the bull’s-eye itself--a cheer from his -schoolfellows. - -“Well done, Gregory, well done, old fellow.” - -“The lad will do well enough,” said an old bowman, “yet not like his -father; but where be the bowmen of Crecy now? At the last bout we had -with them, the French turned their backs upon us at long range, and bid -us shoot, whereas had we been the men our sires were, they would have -paid dearly for their fool-hardy challenge.” - -Then stood up Adam Banister, a round thick-set youth, with brown hair -and rosy face. - -“Good luck to thee, Banister,” was the cry. - -How easily he drew his ponderous bow: the arrow whizzed--alas, only the -_second_ circle was attained. - -And now the third champion. - -It is Nicholas Grabber. Let our readers mark him, he will often figure -in these pages. - -A lad of average height, with a head of very bright red hair, -which seems positively to shine; his face is deeply freckled, but -his appearance not altogether unprepossessing, save for a certain -expression of slyness which would indicate a mixture of the fox in -his character; those who believed in the transmigration of souls might -recognize the _retriever_ in Gregory, the _bull_ in Banister, the _fox_ -in Grabber, and--well we will leave them to designate the fourth after -reading his history, for it was Cuthbert. - -One after the other they discharge their arrows; the first shaft -strikes the bull’s-eye, but amid shouts of admiration, the second, that -of Cuthbert, pierces as near the centre. - -“Hurrah!” “Grabber!” “Cuthbert!” and the names were repeated again and -again by the crowd. - -“Move the target fifty yards further, and let them shoot yet again.” - -They were rivals, these two boys, and not such good friends as they -should have been. Grabber envied Cuthbert his place in the Abbot’s -favour, which _he_ had utterly failed to attain; for had he not run -away, and had not his father sent him back to school, coupled between -two foxhounds, under the charge of the huntsman, a story never -forgotten by his schoolfellows.[9] However, he was a good shot, a -ringleader in boyish mischief, and not without his friends. - -Again the arrows flew, but at this distance Grabber failed the -bull’s-eye, just alighting on the rim. - -A few moments of breathless anticipation, and Cuthbert’s shaft, soaring -through the air, attains the very centre, amidst shouts of wonder and -admiration.[10] - -Grabber turned away disgusted, as Cuthbert advanced to receive the -silver arrow from the chief forester, who superintended the “buttes.” - -Then rang out the Abbey bell for Compline, and the field was deserted -to the townsfolk, who kept up the pastimes of archery, cudgel playing, -bowls, and the like, till darkness set in. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[7] See “Edwy the Fair,” and “Alfgar the Dane,” by the same author. - -[8] Froude, vol. I, p. 67. He well observes that he could hardly -believe the figures from his experience of modern archery, but such was -the Act 33, Henry VIII., cap. 9. - -[9] See Note D. - -[10] A far more remarkable instance of English archery is given in -Scott’s “Anne of Geirstein.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_THE SECRET CHAMBER._ - - -The Compline service was over, and the lads, many of whom slept in the -abbey, while others lodged in the town, were retiring to their beds, -when a lay brother arrested Cuthbert’s progress, and said in a low -voice, “The Abbot requires thy presence.” - -Somewhat startled,--for the summons was an unusual one at that hour, -although he often acted in turn with other lads as a page-in-waiting on -the Abbot, an office none would then despise,--Cuthbert followed the -laic. - -Threading various passages, they reached the Abbot’s lodgings, and -there the messenger knocked and retired, leaving Cuthbert to obey the -summons, “_Enter_.” - -Richard Whiting, the last of that long line of mitred Abbots, sat near -the window of his study, which was a plainly furnished room, simple as -the personal tastes of the Abbot. - -He was now but a weak and infirm old man, yet of many good brethren -the best;--“small in stature, in figure venerable, in countenance -dignified, in manner most modest, in eloquence most sweet, in chastity -without stain; not without that austerity of expression which we often -notice in the portraits of these great mediæval ecclesiastics.” - -“My son,” he said, “I have somewhat to say to thee ere perchance I be -taken from thee.” - -“Taken from me, Father?” - -“Yes, the clouds are gathering thick around our devoted house, and the -shelter thou hast long received may fail thee and all others here, ere -long.” - -Cuthbert looked amazed. - -“Tidings have reached me, my child, that I must be taken to London, -there to answer to certain treasons of which they falsely accuse me; -the bolt may fall at any moment, and I have to discharge two duties, -the first towards thee.” - -The Abbot took up a little chest from the sideboard. - -“Thou hast long been _my_ son, and hast not needed thy natural parents, -but dost thou not oftentimes wonder who they were?” - -“They come to me in dreams.” - -“And as yet _only_ in dreams, my child; perchance thou art an orphan, -but in that chest are the few relics of thy poor mother, which we -possess; these are the little clothes which swathed thee when thou -wast found in Avalon forest--there a ring which encircled thy mother’s -finger, and a full description of the circumstances of thy arrival -here.” - -“But what use would they be to me didst thou leave me alone in the -world, Father?” - -“Thou wilt never be alone, God will be ever with thee, He is the Father -of the fatherless; should aught happen to drive thee hence, thee and -others, take refuge with thy foster-parents until one seek thee, -bearing this ring which thou seest on my finger, to him thou mayest -safely commit thyself, and the secrets I am about to entrust thee for -him.” - -Here the tapestry moved in the wind, and a knock was heard at the door, -which stood ajar; a fact the Abbot had not noticed. - -To Cuthbert’s surprise there stood Nicholas Grabber. - -“Quid vis fili?” was the Abbot’s interrogation. - -“The lay brother Francis said that thou wantedst me.” - -“It was an error, I sent for Cuthbert, and he is here. Pax tecum, go to -rest.” - -“My son,” said the Abbot, when Grabber was gone, “I am about to reveal -to thee a mystery which thou alone mayest share, until the friend I -have mentioned seeks thee, and presents thee with this ring, which -thou now seest on my finger; it will not be till I am gone.” - -Cuthbert felt his spirits sink within him at the sad words of his -protector, but he restrained himself, and listened reverently as to the -words of a saint. - -“Shut the door carefully, and draw the bolt.” - -Cuthbert did so. - -“Now touch the rose which thou seest in the carving of the cornice -there, the fourth rose in order from the door, and the third from the -floor.” - -The wainscotting of the room was divided into small squares; in each -one a rose--S. Joseph’s rose--formed the centre. - -“The third and the fourth, canst thou remember?” - -“Third from the floor, fourth from the door.” - -“Now press the centre of the bud sharply with thy thumb.” - -Cuthbert did so, and a bookcase, which seemed a fixture in the wall, -and which none could have suspected to have been aught _but_ a fixture, -flew open in the manner of a door, and revealed a flight of circular -steps, such steps as we see in old towers to this day. - -“Follow me,” said the Abbot, as he took a lamp and descended the steps. - -Thirty steps down, and as the Abbot’s room was on the ground-floor, -they must have been below the foundations of the Abbey when they came -upon a solid iron door; the Abbot touched a spring, bidding Cuthbert -observe the manner in which it worked, and entered. - -“Fasten the door carefully back by this stay,” said the Abbot, “for -should it sway to, we are dead men; the lock is a spring lock, and -opens only from the outside, nor is there other exit save into the -vaults of the dead. Dost thou see this chest? Here is the key, open it.” - -Cuthbert turned the lock, raised the ponderous lid, and let it rest -against the wall behind, then gazed upon the contents. - -There were the most precious jewels of the Abbey, gemmed reliquaries, -golden and jewelled pixes, chalices of solid gold, coined money, and -the like, but beyond all this enormous wealth were rolls of parchment, -and bundles of letters. - -“My son, I have marked in thee from childhood a nature free from guile, -and incapable of treachery, therefore do I place this confidence in -thee. Those golden and jewelled treasures are not the most important -things in the chest, but the _parchments_, the _letters_. They contain -secrets, which, if made known, might cost many lives--lives of some of -the truest patriots and most faithful sons of Holy Church.[11] I need -not detail their nature to thee, nor why I may not destroy them now. -The secret thou hast learned is not for thee, thou wilt keep it until -the arrival of the hour and the man.” - -“His name?” - -“I will but tell thee this much, he will be known to thee as the Father -Ambrose.” - -“Have I never yet met him?” - -“Never, he has lived abroad; and now, my child, I will tell thee why I -have chosen thee for the repository of this secret. He, who will be thy -guardian and guide, when I am no more, who has undertaken the care of -thy future, will also share alone with thee this knowledge. Ordinarily -it has been confined to the Abbot, Prior, and Sub-Prior of this Abbey, -and by them handed down to their successors. They share my danger, -and may not survive me; otherwise they may be taken when inquisition -is made for these papers, and put to torture to make them declare the -hiding-place, and the like danger would hang over all high in office, -but not, I trust, over one so young as thou art. Therefore thou must -live quietly at thy stepfather’s home, until the day come when thy -future guardian shall arrive, and may He, Who is the Father of the -orphan, ever guard thee, my Cuthbert. But let us hasten to leave these -vaults; I am old, and the damp air affects my aged breath.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[11] See Note E. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_THE ARREST._ - - -No event of importance followed immediately upon the disclosure of the -secret chamber;--the summer passed swiftly and pleasantly away, the -orchards were already laden with the golden riches of autumn, ere the -bolt, so long foreseen, fell. - -We can hardly, ourselves, enter into the difficulties and trials which -beset the Abbot of Glastonbury. We are accustomed to the spectacle of -a Church, divided, at least externally, but to men who had grown up -with the belief, that outward unity was essential to the preservation -of Christianity, the absolute command to abjure the Papal Supremacy, -to break off all relations with Rome, and acknowledge the King as the -“Head of the Church of England,” was a matter of life or death. - -So Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher, not to mention hosts of others, -died sooner than comply, while the more timid, shocked at the scandal, -for such it was to them, gave outward obedience, and in their hearts -prayed fervently that “this tyranny might be over past.” - -Let it not, however, be inferred that therefore they were right in -contending for the supremacy of Rome, only in the right, inasmuch as it -is far nobler to die, than to deny one’s belief, or to swear falsely to -what one does not believe in one’s heart. - -And so while we reject their teaching on this point, we can feel the -deepest sympathy with the sufferings of these noble, yet mistaken souls. - -On the first visitation of his monastery, three years previously, the -Abbot had taken the Oath of Supremacy, feeling that it was not a cause -for which a man was bound to die, but he had never been a happy man -since, he was too old to change his convictions. Therefore he absented -himself from the place in Parliament, which was his as a mitred -Abbot, who was ranked as the equal of a Bishop, and strove to hide -his sorrows in obscurity. No fault was then alleged against him, the -earlier visitors reported that his house was, and had long been, “full -honourable.” - -But the eye of the “Malleus Monachorum,” the arch enemy of the monks, -Thomas Cromwell, was upon him, and at last this vigilant enemy, equally -cruel and unscrupulous, found the pretext he desired, for sending the -Abbot of Glastonbury, as also the Abbots of Reading and Colchester to -the gibbet and the quartering block. Most of the Abbots had been led to -save themselves by a voluntary surrender of their house and estates; -those who did not thus bend to the storm, had to be destroyed on one -pretence or another. - - * * * * * - -It was the sixteenth Sunday after Trinity, in the year of grace 1539. - -The day was a bright day of early autumn, one of those sweet balmy -days, when summer seems to put out all her parting beauties ere she -yields her dominion to winter,--the air was laden with fragrance, and -there was a dreamy haze upon the scenery around, which seemed typical -of heavenly peace. - -But there was a sad despondent feeling, which weighed like lead, upon -the hearts of all the elders present at the High Mass on that day, in -the great Abbey Church, whose majestic ruins yet strike the beholder -with awe. - -After the Creed, the Abbot ascended the pulpit and gazed round upon -the congregation, as upon those to whom he was about to preach for -the last time; he took for his text the parting words of S. Paul at -Miletus,--“And now behold, I know that ye all, among whom I have gone -preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face no more.” - -As he uttered the words there was an audible expression of feeling on -the part of the monks in the choir, the boys in the transepts, and the -citizens in the spacious nave: was the text prophetical? One or two -sobs might be heard. - -Danger was at hand, and he knew it, and after a brief exordium he told -it out plainly: the Royal Commissioners, with charge to bring him -before the Council, were already on their way. - -“Very sorry am I,” said he, “for you, my brethren, and especially my -younger friends, of whom I see so many around. They will destroy this -House of God, as they have so many others, they will spare you in the -flesh, but if you are taken hence, and sent into a cold-hearted and -wicked world, for which you are unfitted, having begun in the spirit, -ye may be consumed in the flesh, and what shall I say, or what shall I -do, if I cannot save those whom God has entrusted to my charge?” - -Here a common utterance broke forth from the brethren which could not -be suppressed. - -“Let us die together in our integrity, and heaven and earth shall -witness for us how unjustly we be cut off.” - -“Would that it might be even so,” continued the preacher, “that so -dying we might pass in a body to our Father’s home above, but they -will not do us so great a kindness. Me and the elder brethren they may -indeed kill, but you who are younger will be sent back into the world -ye have once forsaken, where divers temptations assail you. Alas, who -is sufficient for these things?” - -Here he paused, and then continued, “This may be the last time we meet -within these sacred walls: the last time that they re-echo the tone -of thanksgiving, which has arisen for nigh fifteen centuries on this -spot.[12] But it is meet that we prepare for the stroke, and that we -may do so the better, let us ask pardon for all the faults we may have -committed against each other, and let each forgive, that so we may say -the divine prayer, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that -trespass against us.’” - -A solemn pause followed, during which there came a strange -interruption, a sweet soft sound as of angels’ voices singing in -harmony: not from the organ came that strange music, nor from any -visible orchestra, but all felt it as it thrilled into their hearts. -The venerable preacher was so moved that he sank down in tears, and for -a long time could not resume his discourse, while all in the choir sat -as if astonished, yet rejoicing in the token, as they believed it was, -of God’s presence amongst them. - -And the burden of the song seemed, “O rest in the Lord, wait patiently -on Him.” - -That sermon ended in broken words of faith, love, and hope--words of -deep emotion never forgotten by any present--and then the Celebration -proceeded, with its stores of rich comfort and celestial joy.[13] - - * * * * * - -The following day the Abbot left early in the morning for a small -country house belonging to the Abbey about a mile-and-a-half away. This -he did that the scandal of an open arrest, and a probable conflict, -might be averted, for he felt that his people might not peacefully bear -the spectacle of their venerated Father led away like a criminal. - -But he made no concealment of his retreat, so when the Commissioners -arrived, later in the morning, they had no difficulty in learning the -place, and they followed him to the country house. - -In an old oak-panelled apartment sat the once powerful Abbot, writing -calmly a few parting directions, chiefly concerning the disposal of -such personal property as might serve as mementoes to those who loved -him, when they should see his face no more. - -He was calm and resigned, although once, as he wrote, tears issued from -fountains which had been long dry, and rolled down his aged and worn -cheek,--he was but human. - -In the window seat, his eyes fixed upon the road which led from the -Abbey, sat Cuthbert. - -Suddenly he rose hastily. - -“Father,” he said, “they are coming; a number of mounted men are in -sight, wilt thou not fly? We may yet hide thee, they will be ten -minutes ere they arrive; fly for _our_ sakes, for _my_ sake--thy -adopted child.” - -“My son, I cannot; life has little yet to tempt me, and far better -for me that I should bear witness to my faith with my blood, and -receive the martyr’s palm which God hath already granted to many of -my brethren, than live a few more miserable years, and see the wild -boar rooting up the vineyard of the Lord, and the beasts of the field -devouring it.” - -After a pause he continued,-- - -“Dost thou see them plainly? Who is their guide?” - -“Shame upon him, it is Nicholas Grabber; rather should they have cut my -feet off than have forced me to do the like.” - -“Nay, my child, I left word where I was, and strict directions that no -concealment should be attempted.” - -“Yet some other guide were more fitting than one of thine own children, -shame upon him. Oh, my more than father, _do_ fly; they will drag -thee to a shameful death, like thy brethren of Reading and Abingdon. -Is it not written, ‘When they persecute you in one city flee ye into -another?’” - -“Too late, my son, they are at the gate.” - -“We will hide thee; there must be some place to hide in here, some -secret chamber.” - -“They are on the stairs, my son; do not let them see thee weep, be -manly.” - -Cuthbert strove to repress his emotion and to maintain outward -composure, when the door opened and three men entered, rude of aspect. - -“My name is Layton,” said the foremost, “and these two worthy men be -Masters Pollard and Moyle; we be pursuivants of the King, and in his -name, and by virtue of his warrant, we have charge to arrest thee, -unless thou clear thyself by thy answers to certain questions.” - -“What are they?” said the Abbot, calmly. - -“Hast thou taken the Oath of Supremacy?” - -“I have, to my great sorrow.” - -“To his great sorrow, mark that, Master Pollard; and why to thy great -sorrow?” - -“Because it was a treason to the Church.” - -“Then thou wilt not renew it?” - -“Never.” - -“That is enough to hang thee, proud Abbot, but thy talk interests me, -and I would fain hear a little more from thee; what dost thou think of -the King’s divorce?” - -“I am not fain to answer thee on that matter.” - -“But the law enables us to _compel_ an answer from every man, and -construes silence as treason; loyal men need not conceal their -thoughts, and there is no room in England for disloyalty.”[14] - -“Construe my silence as treason if thou wilt, I have naught to say on -the matter.” - -“There is something more for _me_ to say. Dost thou love life, Master -Abbot? For if so, in spite of thy treasons just uttered, thou mayst -save it; we know full well that the names of the men who supplied money -and arms for the late most unnatural and parricidal rebellion in the -north, which men call the Pilgrimage of Grace, are known to thee, only -reveal the secret, and thou art safe.” - -“Get thee behind me, Satan; dost thou think I would save my life at the -expense of others, and take reward to slay the innocent?” - -The Abbot’s manner was so firm and decided, the answer so bravely -given, that the villain started. “I will patter with thee no more, thou -hoary sinner,” he said at last; “thou hast the papers concerning this -rebellion concealed somewhere, and we know it; we will pull thy Abbey -down, stone by stone, if we find them not: thy answers are cankered and -traitorous, and to the Tower thou shalt go, the Tower of London. Ah, -who is that boy?” - -“Thou mayst take me too,” said Cuthbert, as he stood before them, -emerging from the curtained recess of the window with flashing eyes and -burning cheeks, “for all that the Lord Abbot hath said, _I_ say also.” - -“Ah, thou young cockatrice, we see well what a dam hath hatched -thee--another treason to the account of the wily priest here.” - -“Cuthbert,” said the Abbot, “thou art running into needless danger--God -calls thee not to suffer.” - -“What is good for _thee_, Father, must be good for me also.” - -“We may as well take him up to town too,” said Master Pollard. - -“Nay, it is not our business,” said Layton; “if we arrested every young -fool this traitor hath taught, we should go up to town with three -hundred boys behind us, and should need their nurses to take care of -them; the ground-ash were fitter for this young master’s back, but we -have no time to waste on his folly, let us be moving, we have to search -the chambers at the Abbey, perchance we may come across these papers.” - -Need we say they searched in vain. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[12] The Abbot’s history is wrong, but he is under the belief that -Joseph of Arimathæa founded Glastonbury Abbey, or at least first -preached the Gospel on that spot. - -[13] See Note F. - -[14] This was actually the case. Henry would not allow his subjects -the privilege of concealing their thoughts. It is scarcely possible -now, to believe the fact that the treason statute touched the life and -enacted the fearful penalties of high treason against all who would -not admit and assent _in words_ to the royal supremacy; it made it -treason not only to _speak_ against the king’s prerogatives, but even -to “_imagine_” anything against them. “Malicious silence,” which was -assumed to imply such evil _imaginations_, was to be interpreted as -treason and punished by death. See Perry’s History of English Church, -p. 112-3. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_THE ROAD-SIDE INN._ - - -The evening of Tuesday, the twelfth of November, in the year of grace -fifteen hundred and thirty-nine, was closing in. - -The day had been very fine, such a day as we sometimes enjoy, even in -November; the golden sunbeams had brightened the foliage which yet hung -upon many of the trees of the forest, and turned the russet plumage -into gold. Now and then, in the calm atmosphere, a leaf would flutter -down, and break the oppressive silence of the forest of Avalon. - -It is broken more seriously; hark, that is the tread of many feet, and -those voices are the voices of lads out for a day in the woods. See -here they come into this lonely haunt, where no road or path exists, -startling yon raven from his perch; see how sulkily he flies away, as -if to say, “What right have these intruders here?” - -A large chestnut-tree has dropped its fruit on the ground, and amidst -the dead leaves the lads are searching, and loading their pockets with -the spoil; there are about twenty of them, evidently a band of the -Glastonbury boys, and amidst them we recognise two old acquaintances, -Cuthbert and Nicholas Grabber. - -“It is time to be moving,” says Cuthbert; “we promised the Prior to be -home in time to sing vespers.” - -“Sing vespers! how pious we are!” said Nicholas, and the irreverent -fellow clasped his hands together affectedly, and began to chant in a -ridiculous voice the Psalm “Dixit Dominus.” - -“Stop that,” said several voices at once, and Nicholas obeyed, finding -the general feeling was against such mockery, as it ought to be with -sensible and manly boys. - -“Well, thank God, there will not be many more services in the Abbey; -I am for _freedom_, for shaking off the yoke of bondage under which -the old monks have kept us: those visitors who have been taking an -inventory of the goods and chattels at the place, are only a token that -the end is near; and it can’t come too soon for me.”[15] - -“More shame for you to say so, after you have been educated at the -cost of the Abbey, and eaten and drunk its fare for many years,” said -Cuthbert. - -“And poor fare I have found it: I daresay the Abbot’s favourites get -better,” replied Nicholas. - -“‘Abbot’s favourites,’ what do you mean?” said Cuthbert, colouring. - -“Let those who find the cap fit, put it on.” - -“He means it for _you_, Cuthbert,” said two or three voices at once. - -“I suppose one can’t help being liked,” said Gregory Bell. - -“Nay, but one should not curry favour at the expense of others.” - -“That isn’t fair,” cried Adam Banister; “no one can say Cuthbert is a -sneak.” - -“Sneak! who guided the commissioners to find the Abbot? that was the -part of a sneak,” said Cuthbert; “but I know one way in which I could -avoid favour; by running away from school and being brought back tied -between two foxhounds, on all fours.” - -A general burst of laughter, and then Nicholas lost all self-control, -and struck Cuthbert in the face. - -“A blow!” “A fair blow!” “A fight!” “A fight!” - -Yes, a fight was inevitable under the circumstances; according to the -moral (or immoral) code of the fifteenth century, no one could receive -a blow from an equal without returning it, unless he wished to be -exiled from the society, whether of boys or men. Nothing was clearer to -their eyes than that the duty of all good Christians was to fight each -other. - -So the blow was returned, straight between the eyes. But a fight was -too good a thing to be lost in that irregular manner: a ring was -formed, two seconds selected, Gregory Bell for Cuthbert, and a cousin, -like-minded with himself, for Grabber. - -Now we are not going to enter into the details of the fight--those who -like a scene of the kind will find one well described in “Tom Brown’s -School Days,”--suffice it to say in this instance, that the contest was -long and desperate, not to say bloody, and that in spite of Grabber’s -greater physical strength and weight, the skill and endurance of -Cuthbert gave him the advantage, as indeed I think he deserved to have -it. - -So intent were the twenty lads upon the scene, that they did not notice -how the sun went down amidst rising clouds, how the wind began to -sigh through the forest; darkness was gathering over the spectators -and combatants, who had now fought many rounds, lasting nearly an -hour, when at last, to the great joy of many present, Grabber, at the -conclusion of a round, in which he had exhausted all his strength, -got a knock-down blow, and was unable to “come up to time,” so amidst -deafening cheers, Cuthbert was hailed as the victor. - -He advanced to Grabber who was supported on the knee of his second. - -“Give me your hand, Nicholas, and let us forgive and forget. I hope you -are not much hurt.” - -Grabber sullenly refused. - -“That shows a bad heart; a fellow should never bear malice for a fair -thrashing, one can only do his best after all,” said Gregory. - -And the majority shared his opinion. - -“We must make haste out of the woods, or we shall lose our way and be -here all night.” - -Three or four boys remained with Grabber, for he was not without his -sympathizers,--we are sorry to say there are black sheep even in the -best schools,--and these would not leave the spot with the rest, but -said they could find their own way home. - -The others struck boldly towards the west, which was easily -distinguished, owing to the reddened and angry clouds, which showed -where the monarch of the day had gone down. - -But soon these also disappeared, and the road was not yet attained; -darkness fell upon the scene, and the lads who were with Cuthbert -wandered about lost, utterly lost, until a distant light gladdened -their eager sight, and with a joyous cry they bent their course towards -it. - -In a few minutes they emerged from the woods on the high-road from -London, where a well-known inn, “The Cross Keys,” hung out a lamp as a -guide to travellers. - -They all knew their way now, and would fain have started home at -once, only Cuthbert was faint after his late exertions, and a cup of -“Malmsey” seemed the right thing. - -“You had better let him have a good wash; cold water will revive him, -and remove the blood from his face too,” said the landlord, who saw the -lad had been fighting, and a fight was too common a thing, we are sorry -to say, to excite any further comment or enquiries, on his part. - -So they adjourned to the pump, where, with the help of a rough towel, -Cuthbert soon made himself presentable, although he still bore very -evident traces of the conflict. - -This necessary task accomplished, the boys entered the inn, ordinarily -a forbidden place to them, and the landlord brought a cup of wine for -Cuthbert. - -But while they were there a body of armed men entered the house. - -They wore the uniform of the King’s guard: there was no regular army in -those days, every man was a soldier in time of need, but there was a -small body of men kept about the King’s person, who were sent from time -to time on special services, and were called the King’s “beef-eaters.” - -And these were some of them. - -“Landlord, bring us some mulled sack,” said one who appeared to be -their leader, “and tell us, have you seen that fox the Abbot of -Glastonbury pass this way to-day on his road home?” - -“He has not yet returned from London?” - -“Nay, but he is on his way,--we have no listening ears have we?” The -boys were separated by a partition. “Are you for Abbot or King?” - -“I am a friend to the King.” - -“Well said, so should every good Englishman be; and we have charge to -arrest this wily Abbot on his return, as a foe to King Harry, and take -him to Wells to be tried for his life.” - -“Has he not been tried and acquitted?” - -“He has been solemnly condemned in a Court where Thomas Cromwell sat as -prosecutor, jury and judge: but that is not quite the law, so he has -been dismissed home, and we have been sent by an after thought to take -him to Wells for a _regular trial_.”[16] - -“On what charge?” - -“Robbing the Abbey Church.” - -“Good heavens!” - -“Why, I thought thee a friend of the King.” - -“So I am, but what can all this mean?” - -“That he hid the Abbey plate, so that the King’s visitors could not -find it, when they wanted to make an inventory, and confiscate patens -and chalices for the King’s use.” - -“But it was his own.” - -“Only in trust, you see.” - -“Still he might hide it in trust for the Abbey, that would not be -robbery.” - -“Friend, I should advise thee to _consider_ it robbery in these days; -it is better for all men who do not want their necks stretched to think -as the King and his minister, Thomas Cromwell, think; don’t fear but we -shall find men to bring him in guilty.” - -The poor inn-keeper was silent; perhaps he remembered that one of his -predecessors had been hanged for saying he would make his son heir to -the “Crown,” meaning the “Crown Inn.” - -The boys stole out unobserved. - -“What shall we do?” - -“Go and meet the Abbot and warn him, he will pass Headly Cross.” - -“But then we may but share his fate,” said several. - -“I shall go if I go alone,” said Cuthbert. - -“And so shall I,” said Gregory Bell. - -“Well, two are as good as the lot of us, and better; more likely to -pass unobserved,” said Adam Banister; “the rest of us had better get -home, and tell the monks all we have heard and seen.” - - * * * * * - -It was a wild place, Headly Cross, where two woodland roads crossed -each other. Report said that a cruel murder had been committed there -years agone, and that the place was haunted; every one believed in -haunted places then. - -But as there was a choice of routes, and the Abbot might come _either_ -way, it was the right thing to await him where the roads converged. - -And there Cuthbert and Gregory waited all alone, as the dark hours -rolled away, until they heard the “Angelus” ring from a distant tower, -and knew it was nine o’clock, when decent people, in those days, went -to bed. - -The chime had hardly died away, when they heard the tread of horses, -and soon three riders came in view in the dim light of the stars; and -the boys recognised the Abbot, with two attendants, one his faithful -serving man, the other a stranger. - -Cuthbert dashed forward. “My Lord Abbot,” he said, “one moment, it is -I, Cuthbert, and here is Gregory Bell.” - -“Cuthbert and Gregory Bell; why are you here, boys?” - -“We have heard a plot against you: men are waiting at the ‘Cross Keys’ -to arrest you, and take you for trial at Wells; they say it will cost -your life.” - -“On what charge?” - -“Concealing the Abbey plate.” - -The Abbot smiled sadly. - -“My children,” he said, “this can hardly be true, yet if it _be_ as you -say, I will not fly a jury of my countrymen.” - -“Neither could he,” said the stranger on his left hand, “if he _would_; -my duty is to see him safe to Glastonbury, unless relieved beforehand -by royal authority.” - -“You see, my Cuthbert and Gregory, that your devotion is all in vain; -neither _would_ I avail myself of it if I _could_. Mount on the pillion -behind me, Cuthbert; my good Ballard here will take Gregory behind him, -and you may return with us to Glastonbury, if such return be permitted.” - -“It never will be, never will be,” said Cuthbert, with sinking heart. - -And how that young heart beat, as they approached the “Cross Keys,” and -as a line of men, forming across the road, stopped the cavalcade. - -“My Lord Abbot, we arrest you in the King’s name.” - -“On what charge?” - -“Robbery of the Abbey Church.” - -“This is a base pretence, to deprive me of the credit of martyrdom for -my convictions: but there was One who suffered more for me.” - -And the Abbot yielded himself peacefully to those who sought his life. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[15] Advantage was taken of the Abbot’s compulsory absence to take the -necessary steps for the dissolution of the monastery. (Froude.) - -[16] In some private memoranda of Thomas Cromwell, which still exist -in his own hand-writing, occur the words,--“Item. The Abbot of Glaston -to be tried at Glaston, and also to be _executed_ there with his -accomplices.” The trial, however, took place at Wells, the execution (a -foregone conclusion) at Glastonbury, as related in the story. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_THE TRIAL._ - - -The period of English history of which we are now writing has been -aptly called “The Reign of Terror.” England under Thomas Cromwell, and -France under Robespierre, were alike examples of the utter prostration -which may befall a mighty nation beneath the sway of one ruthless -intellect. - -To make the King absolute, and himself to rule through the King, was -the one aim of the man whom Fox, the Martyrologist, grotesquely calls -“The valiant soldier of Christ:”--for this end he smote down the Church -and the nobility: Bishop Fisher and the Carthusians represented the -ecclesiastical world, the Courtenays and the Poles the aristocracy, -Sir Thomas More the new-born culture of the time; and Cromwell chose -his victims from the noblest and the best. The piety of Fisher, once -the King’s tutor, to whom his mother had committed her royal boy on -her death-bed, could not save him; nor his learning, Sir Thomas More; -nor her grey hairs, the Countess of Salisbury. Spies were scattered -through the land; it was dangerous to speak one’s mind in one’s own -house; nay, the new inquisition claimed empire over men’s thoughts; we -have seen that the concealment of one’s sentiments was treason. - -Will my more youthful readers wonder then that men could be found to -convict upon such charges as those preferred against the aged Abbot of -Glastonbury? They need wonder at nothing that occurred while Bloody -Harry was King, and Thomas Cromwell Prime Minister. - -The juries themselves sat with a rope around their necks; when the -Prior and the chief brethren of the Charter-house waited upon Cromwell -to explain their conscientious objections to the Oath of Supremacy, -loyally and faithfully, he sent them from his house to the tower; when -the juries would not convict the ecclesiastics, he detained them in -court a second day, and threatened them with the punishment reserved -for the prisoners, unless they found a verdict for the crown; finally, -he visited the jurymen in person, and by individual intimidation -forced the reluctant men to find a verdict of guilty, whereupon the -unfortunate monks were hanged, drawn, and quartered, with every -circumstance of barbarity, suspended, cut down alive, disembowelled, -and finally dismembered.[17] - -Thursday, the fourteenth of November, 1539, was a gloomy day: black -leaden clouds floated above, the ground was sodden with moisture, the -leaves, fallen leaves, no inapt emblem, rotted in the slime, a heavy -damp air oppressed the breath; the day suited the deed, for on that -day the aged Abbot of Glastonbury was formally arraigned at Wells, -together with his brethren the Prior and Sub-Prior, on the charge of -felony,--“Robbery of the Abbey Church with intent to defraud the King.” - -They might well have proceeded against him under the Act of Supremacy, -but variety has charms, and this new idea of felony commended itself to -the mind of Cromwell, as a good device for humbling the clergy. - -Lord Russell, one of Henry’s new nobility who supplied the places left -vacant by so many ruthless executions, whose own fortunes were built on -the plunder of the Church, sat as judge, and there were empannelled, we -are told, “as worshipful a jury as was ever charged in Wells.” - -The indictment set forth that the prisoners had feloniously hidden the -treasures of the Abbey, to wit, sundry chalices, patens, reliquaries, -parcels of plate, gold and silver in vessels, ornaments, and money, -with the intent of depriving our sovereign lord the King of his -rightful property, conferred upon him by Act of Parliament. - -“What say you, Richard Whiting, guilty or not guilty?” - -The aged prisoner looked around him with wondering eyes; he scanned the -crowded array of spectators, then the jury, who looked half ashamed of -their work, and finally rested his eyes upon his judge. - -“How can I plead guilty where there can be no guilt? These treasures -were committed to my care to keep for God and Holy Church; it is not -meet to cast them to swine; no earthly power may lawfully take to -itself the houses of God for a possession, or break down the carved -work thereof with axes and hammers. Am I tried before an assembly of -Christian men, or before heathen, Turks, infidels, and heretics?” - -“It is not meet for a prisoner to revile his judges,” said Russell; “as -an Englishman you are bound by the Acts of Parliament.” - -“Talk not to me of Parliament; you have on your side but the Parliament -of this sinful generation, and against you are all the Parliaments -who have sat from the Witan-agemot downwards, who have granted and -confirmed to us of Glastonbury, those possessions which you would -snatch from a house which has been the light of this country for a -thousand years; to resist such oppression and sacrilege is not _guilt_, -and I plead in that sense, ‘Not Guilty.’” - -“Thou showest but little wisdom in pressing thine own opinion against -the consent of the realm.” - -“I would fain hold my peace; but that I may satisfy my conscience, I -will tell thee that while thou hast on thy side but a minority in a -single kingdom, the whole of the Christian world, save that kingdom, is -dead against you, and even the majority here condemn your proceedings, -although the fear of a barbarous death silences their tongues.” - -“Of whom art thou speaking?” - -“Of all the good men present.” - -“Why hast thou persuaded so many people to disobey the King and -Parliament?” - -“Nay, I have sinned in dissembling my opinions, but now I _will_ speak. -I disallow these changes as impious and damnable (general sensation); -I neither look for mercy nor desire it; my cause I commit to God, I am -aweary of this wicked world, and long for peace.” - -He sank upon the bench behind him, as did his fellow prisoners, and -none of them took any further obvious interest in the proceedings. - -Formal evidence was brought to prove the discovery of treasure hidden -in secret places, but all this fell very flat upon the audience, the -fact was tacitly admitted on both sides, _the_ difference of opinion -only existed as to the guilt thereof. - -There was no room for doubt in Lord Russell’s mind; he summed up the -evidence against the prisoners, and reminded the jurymen that their own -loyalty was on trial, a very forcible hint in those days, and one which -few men dared disregard. - -They retired; returned with downcast looks, and gave a verdict in -accordance with the evidence: theirs not to argue the point of law, the -fact was sufficient. - -“Prisoners at the bar,” said the judge, “you have been convicted on -the clearest evidence of an act of felony--of seeking to deprive the -King of the property willed to him by the high estates of the realm, in -trust for the nation. Into your motives I need not enquire, but no man -can be a law unto himself; born within these realms you are subject to -the authorities thereof, and for your disobedience to them you must now -die. The only duty remaining to me is to pronounce upon you the awful -sentence the law provides against your particular crime--that you be -taken hence to the prison whence you came, and from thence be drawn on -the morrow, upon a hurdle, to the summit of Glastonbury Tor, that all -men far and wide may witness the royal justice, where you are to be -hanged by the neck, but not until you are dead, for while you are still -living, your bodies are to be taken down, your bowels torn out and -burnt before your faces; your heads are then to be cut off, and your -bodies divided, each into four quarters, to be at the King’s disposal, -and may God have mercy upon your souls.”[18] - -A dead silence followed, broken at last by the Abbot’s voice. - -“We appeal from this judgment of guilty and time-serving men to the -judgment of God, before Whose bar we shall at length meet again.” - - * * * * * - -It was late in the same evening, the curfew had already rung, the rain -was still falling at intervals in the streets of Glastonbury, as if -nature wept at the approaching dissolution of the venerable fane which -had been the ornament of western England so long. - -In spite of the weather, many groups formed from time to time outside -the gatehouse of the Abbey, for there the three prisoners had been -brought from Wells, and there, in the chamber over the gateway, in -strict ward, they were passing the last night the royal mercy permitted -them to live. - -A youth, repulsed from the door which gives admittance to the upper -chambers, retired with despairing gesture; his face bore marks of -intense emotion, the tears had worn furrows therein, and from time to -time a sob escaped him. - -A companion pressed up to his side. - -“Will they not let you in?” - -“No, Gregory, I have begged in vain these three times.” - -“Why not try the sheriff, he is said to be merciful?” - -“I can but try, I will go to his house at once.” - -As due to his office, the high sheriff of the county was charged with -the details of the morrow’s tragedy; he liked the task but little, -still he viewed it as a simple matter of duty, and could not flinch -from it. - -He was resting after the fatigues of the day, and in truth, thinking -very uneasily over the events of the trial. - -“What if, after all, he is in the right--that appeal to the judgment -bar above was very solemn--when that great assize takes place, in whose -shoes would it be best to stand, in the place of the judge or the felon -of to-day?” - -A domestic entered--“A lad craves a moment’s speech.” - -“Who is he?” - -“I know him not, but he has been weeping bitterly, as one may see by -his face.” - -The sheriff hesitated, but he was in a merciful mood; he suspected the -object of the visitor, and it was a good sign for the success of the -suppliant that he permitted the visit. - -“Well, my lad,” said he, as Cuthbert entered, “what is the matter now?” - -“I have a boon to crave, your worship; you will not refuse it me?” - -“Let me first hear what it is.” - -“The Abbot has been my adopted father, my best friend from childhood; -let me see him once more, let me receive his parting blessing, ere -wicked hands slay him.” - -“Wicked hands, my lad, you forget yourself, and where you are.” - -“Pardon me, I meant no offence; I know it is no fault of your worship.” - -“It is but a slight boon, after all,” said the sheriff, “and one which -_may_ be conceded;” and as he spoke he wrote a few lines on a slip of -parchment. “They will give you admission for half-an-hour, if you show -them this at the gateway.” - -“May I not stay longer?” - -“It would not be kind to those who are to die; they need their time to -make their peace with God.” - -“That is already made, your worship.” - -“I trust so,” said the sheriff, with a sad faint smile at the boy’s -earnestness. - -“Who art thou, my lad?” he said. - -“The Abbot’s adopted son.” - -“But who were your real parents?” - -“I know not.” - -“What name do they call you?” - -“Cuthbert, I have none other.” - -“Poor lad,” said the sheriff, as the boy departed, “it seems almost -like a familiar face, yet I have never met him before; some accidental -likeness, I suppose.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[17] Lingard v. 19. - -[18] This terrible sentence is copied from the form in actual use until -the present century. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_GLASTONBURY TOR._ - - -A dead silence reigned around the precincts of the once mighty Abbey, -many of the monks had fled, fearing lest they should share the fate -which had befallen their superiors, and having no decided predilection -for martyrdom; but many still shuddered in their cells, or wandered -aimlessly about the doomed cloisters, so soon to be a refuge for bats -and owls. - -Only a few lights burned here and there in the darkness of that -November night, but one shone steadily from the window of the strong -room over the gatehouse, where the three fated monks awaited their doom. - -Scantily furnished was that chamber; three wooden chairs with high -backs grotesquely carved, a massive table in the centre, a huge hearth -decorated with the Abbey arms, upon which smouldered two or three logs, -for fuel was cheap, and the night was cold and damp. Against the wall -hung a crucifix, and there, with their faces towards the memorial of -the martyrdom which redeemed a world, knelt the three. - -We cannot follow their mental struggles, which found relief in -prayer--in intense prayer, in burning words of supplication, which -wafted their spirits on high, and gave them strength to say “not my -will but Thine be done.” - -A step on the stairs, but they rose not from their knees; they felt -that one had entered and was kneeling behind them, and at length they -heard sobs escape from their visitor, which he could not repress. - -They rose slowly from their devotions, and the Abbot grasped Cuthbert’s -hands and raised him from the floor. - -“My child,” he said, “dost thou grieve for me?” - -A sob was the only answer. - -“Listen, my child, which is best, heaven or earth, Paradise or -Glastonbury?” - -Still no answer. - -“And they but rob us of a few brief years, which to aged men like us -must be years of suffering; they separate us from the ranks of the -Church Militant, but not from those of the Church Triumphant, that is -beyond their power; they may kill the body, but after that they have no -more that they can do.” - -“But the shame, the disgrace!” - -“Is it greater than the Son of God bore on Calvary? Nay, my son, let us -not grieve that it has pleased Him, of Whom are all things, to ordain -this painful road, which He Himself has trodden before us; nay, sob -not, nor sorrow as those without hope, but live so that thou mayest -rejoin us in the regions of Paradise.” - -Cuthbert gazed upon the calm majestic face of the old man, and it -seemed to him irradiated by a light from above. He repressed his grief, -and listened to the last words of his friend. - -“It is written that in the last days perilous times shall come, and we -have fallen upon them; happy then that God removes us to His secret -chambers, where He shall hide us until the iniquity of a world be -overpast, and His redeemed come with triumph to Zion. Before us now -is the _via Dolorosa_ of a brief hour, but from the gibbet we shall -scale the skies. For _thee_, my son, is the life-time of trial and -temptation, wherefore I pray for thee, and _will_ pray for thee when -thou shall see my face no more. Remember, dear child, he that endureth -to the end, the same shall be saved, and let neither men nor devils rob -thee of thy crown.” - -“By God’s help I will endure.” - -“I believe that thou wilt strive, yea, and prevail. But _one_ more -thought to earthly things, and I resign the world for ever. Thou -rememberest the secret chamber?” - -“I do, Father.” - -“And the ring which is now on the finger of him who shall claim thy -promise?” - -“Well, my Father.” - -“Await him, my son, in Glastonbury, not in the Abbey, that will be -destroyed by wicked hands, but in the house of thy foster father, Giles -Hodge, whose name thou must take, and be content to pass as his foster -son till the time comes, and thy services are claimed. He who bears the -ring will provide for thy future.” - -“Oh, think not of that.” - -“I _have_ thought of it, and now, my child, thou mayest again join us -in prayer.” - -“The half-hour has passed,” said a rough voice at the door. - -“Thy blessing, Father.” - -“It is thine, my child: Benedicat et custodiat te Deus omnipotens, -Pater, Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus, nunc et in sæcula sæculorum.” - - * * * * * - -Upon the summit of the hill men are working all through the storms of -the night, erecting a huge gibbet, from the cross-beam of which three -ropes are now dependent; beneath is a huge block, like a butcher’s -block, and a ghastly cleaver and saw rest upon it; hard by stands -a caldron of pitch, which but awaits the kindling match to boil and -bubble. - -Through the dark shadows of the clouds, or in the bright light of the -moon when the winds open a path for her rays, ghostly figures flit -about. It is well that they should work in darkness,--it were better -that such work were not done at all. Thus they execute the will of the -ruthless Tudor, the Nero of English history; well, he and his victims -have long since met before a more awful bar. - -The winds blow ceaselessly all through the night, but in the morn the -clouds are breaking; in the east a faint roseate light appears, and -soon brighter streaks of crimson fringe the clouds, which hang over the -dawn; anon the monarch of day arises in his strength, the shadows flee -away, and from the summit of the hill a vast extent of sea and land is -beheld, rejoicing in his beams. - -A crowd gathers around the gatehouse, some few royal parasites to jeer, -men at arms to guard the prisoners, and prevent any attempt at rescue, -more sad and tearful faces of women, or sternly indignant visages of -bearded men. - -“Here they come.” - -The trampling of horse, a train of strong wooden hurdles, each drawn -by a single horse, appears; hard carriages these on which to take the -ride to eternity, but many an innocent victim has fared no better. - -The doors are opened, and the Abbot appears first: a blush overspreads -his aged cheeks, as the indignity thus palpably presents itself, but -uttering, “And this, too, I offer to Thee,” he lies down upon the -hurdle, and they bind his hands and feet to the crossbars, carefully, -that they may not touch the ground, for those in charge of the -execution would not willingly offer additional pain--some of them are -sick at heart as they fulfil the will of the tyrant Tudor. - -The Prior and Sub-Prior submit to the same painful restraint, and the -_via Dolorosa_ is entered. - -All through the streets of the town, where the Abbot has often ridden -in triumphant processions, the highest in dignity of all far and wide, -the hurdles jolt along: the aged frames of the sufferers are fearfully -shaken by the rude joltings, but they remember that _via Dolorosa_ -which led to Calvary, and accept the pain for the sake of the Divine -Sufferer, in Whom our sufferings are sanctified. - -There are those present who are paid to raise hisses and hootings, and -to revile the passing victims, but they are awed by the attitude of the -spectators in general, and forfeit their wages. - -Up the hill with labouring steps the horses tread: at length the -rounded summit appears, and the gibbet looms in sight. - -The sufferers see it not, owing to their prostrate condition, until -they are beneath it. “It is easier to bear than the cross, brethren,” -says Abbot Richard. - -The victims are unbound from the hurdles, and one after the other -resigns himself to the rude hands of the executioners; for now, under -this reign of terror and bloodshed, ecclesiastics are led forth in -their _habits_ to die without being first stripped of their robes, and -degraded. There is a meaning in this, it is not of mercy.[19] - -The Abbot yields himself first, calmly reciting the words of the 31st -Psalm, “In manus tuas, Domine, commendo Spiritum meum.” The _two_ pray -for him until their own turn comes. - -“Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in the Name of God the -Father Who created thee, of God the Son, Who redeemed thee, of God -the Holy Ghost Who hath sanctified thee; may thy place be this day in -peace, and thine abode in Mount Sion.” - -Their faces did not grow pale, neither did their voices tremble--they -declared as they died that they were true subjects of the king in all -things lawful, and obedient children of Holy Church. - -So one after the other they suffered--we spare the reader the sickening -details, which Englishmen could _look_ on in those days, and which -innocent men were called upon to suffer, but which we shudder even to -read. - -But we will conclude with a letter written by Lord Russell to Cromwell -on the 16th of November, being the day following the tragedy. - - “My Lorde--thies shal be to asserteyne, that on Thursday the - xiii. daye of this present moneth, the Abbot was arrayned, and - the next daye putt to execution, with ii. other of his monkes, - for the robbyng of Glastonburye Churche; on the Torre Hill, - the seyde Abbottes body beyng devyded in fower partes, and his - heedd stryken off, whereof oone quarter stondyth at Welles, - another at Bathe, and at Ylchester and Brigewater the rest, and - his hedd upon the abbey gate at Glaston.”[20] - - * * * * * - -As the traveller, in modern times, passes swiftly along the Great -Western line between Weston and Bridgewater, he may see, on his left, a -round conical hill, rising abruptly from the flat plain, a plain which -was once a sea, a hill which was once an island. This is Glastonbury -Tor. - -Fair and beautiful it looks in the summer sunlight, but it was once -the scene of the foul judicial murder which we have endeavoured to -describe.[21] - - -FOOTNOTES - -[19] “While he was waiting for the hangman, he was questioned again by -Pollard as to the concealment of plate, but he had nothing more to say, -and would accuse neither himself nor others, but thereupon took his -death very patiently.”--_Blunt._ - -[20] This letter is authentic, spelling and all. - -[21] See Note G. Death of Abbot Whiting. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_ON THE TRACK._ - - “We grieve not o’er our abbey lands, e’en pass they as they may, - But we grieve because the tyrant found a richer spoil than they; - He cast aside, as a thing defiled, the remembrance of the just, - And the bones of saints and martyrs he scattered to the dust.” - - _Neale._ - - -It was in vain that Bishop Latimer besought the tyrant, mad after the -spoils which a venal parliament had given him, to let at least _some_ -of the monasteries remain as the houses of learning. Few countries -could boast of such shrines as those which adorned like jewels the -shires of England--but all were ruthlessly sacrificed, from the fane -which rose over the mighty dead at Battle, to the humblest cell which -but sheltered half-a-dozen poor brethren or sisters. - -Such was the value of the noble library at Glastonbury that Leland, -an old English antiquarian, tells us, when first he beheld it, “The -sight of its vast treasures of antiquity so struck me with awe, that I -hesitated to enter.” - -Yet we learn from Bale, that such noble collections were sold to -grocers for waste paper, and that he knew a man who had bought for that -purpose two large monastic libraries at the dissolution, and added that -he had been using their contents for ten years, and had hardly got -through half his store. - -So strongly built were many of the Abbeys, that they had to be blown -up with gunpowder, after they were stripped of all that could be sold; -the lands were given to greedy favourites, Cromwell himself is said to -have secured thirty Abbeys, and the ready money was spent at court in -gambling and dissolute living. - -So, in a few years, all the wealth which flowed into the hands of the -crown was dissipated, and instead of the remission of taxation, by -the hope of which many had been bribed to assent to the fall of the -monasteries, the burdens laid upon the people were heavier than before. - - * * * * * - -Four months had passed away since the tragical events recorded in our -last chapter, and the blustering month of March was in mid-career; -the winds swept over the ruined Abbey, now in great part roofless, and -dismantled, the abode of bats and owls; they swept over the bare and -rounded summit of Glastonbury Tor, stained so lately by a foul deed of -blood. Many a violent storm of rain had beaten upon that blood-stained -summit, and the traces of the butchery had long since vanished; but the -peasants yet gazed up to the hill top with awe and wonder. - -But the storm which had desolated the proud Abbey had left the humble -cottage of Giles Hodge untouched: there the old man and his wife lived -in peace, like their neighbours, and went through their daily round, -their trivial task-- - - Each morning saw some work begun - Each evening saw its close. - -Their foster son was often present to their remembrances, but he had -not been with them in person since the martyrdom. They had wisely -judged it best to remove him from the immediate neighbourhood of such -harrowing recollections, and as old Giles had a brother who lived at -Lyme Regis, a seafaring man, thither he had sent Cuthbert to spend the -winter. - -The change of scene had wrought good. The poor boy had gone there -broken-hearted, and suffering from the nervous excitement which he had -passed through; the shock had been very great, but youth is elastic, -and soon recovers from such a strain. The sea and its wonders, the -romantic scenery around, all contributed to the beneficial change. -Sometimes Cuthbert would go out fishing with his uncle, as he had -learned to call the brother of his foster father; the fishing awakened -all his interest: on the deep all the night, watching the moonbeams on -the waves, the gradual breaking of the dawn, the “many dimpled smile of -ocean:” all this was new to the land-bred youth, and exercised a most -happy effect upon his health and spirits. - -But it must not be supposed that he forgot the Abbot, or that he was -unmindful of the secret entrusted to him; he had told his foster father -that he expected some communication from the friends of the late Abbot, -and old Hodge had promised that if anyone arrived, and presented the -ring which was to serve as a token, he would send for Cuthbert without -any delay. - -And at last the message came, just when Cuthbert returned home with -his “uncle,” after a most successful night at sea, bringing the scaly -spoils of the deep in their boats. A rustic messenger had ridden across -the country from Glastonbury, through Langport, Ilminster, Chard, and -Axminster, a distance of from thirty to forty miles. - -Old Giles could not write, he only sent word by his envoy, “Come home, -I have seen the ring, he expects thee to-morrow.” - - * * * * * - -We have not hitherto explained fully the social position of Giles -Hodge. Well, he was a yeoman, having no lands of his own; only he had -a farm of three or four pounds a year,[22] and hereupon he tilled as -much as kept five or six men. He had walk for a hundred sheep, and his -wife milked thirty kine. He was able and bound to provide one man and -horse, with “harness” for both, when the king had need of him; for -this species of feudal tenure yet lingered, and supplied the want of a -standing army. In short, he was an English yeoman, “all of the olden -time.” - -The fire was burning brightly on the hearth in old Giles’ cottage, -which looked as pleasant as in days of yore; he and his old dame -occupied their chairs on either side, for the day’s work was over, and -they were resting after its fatigues, whilst they anxiously awaited the -arrival of their foster son, their Cuthbert. - -It was only just dark, not yet seven o’clock; the evening meal was -already prepared, and set forth with many a tempting dish upon a comely -white cloth, to tempt the appetite of the darling of their old age. - -A knock at the door--the hearts of the old couple beat with -anticipation--yet the knock! Would Cuthbert stop to knock? “Come in,” -they cried. - -The latch lifted, and their parish priest entered, Doctor Adam Tonstal. - -“Good even to you, my worthy friends; I have come for a chat with you -about a matter of importance.” - -“Nothing amiss about Cuthbert, I hope,” said the old dame, anxiously. - -“No, there is naught amiss, _yet_ still my errand is about him. Are you -not expecting him home?” - -“Yes, thank God, this very night; we thought when you knocked that it -was he.” - -“Well, I know you will be glad to see him again, for he is a worthy -lad, and there are few who have not a good word for him, but it will be -just as well not to let anyone know of his arrival, and to get him away -again as soon as possible. My object was to warn you against allowing -him to return, and also to advise you not to tell anyone where he may -be found.” - -“But why,” inquired Giles, aghast, as soon as he could get a word in; -“what harm hath the poor lad done?” - -“Harm, forsooth!” then lowering his voice, “what harm had Richard -Whiting done?” - -“But Cuthbert is too young to be answerable for such weighty matters.” - -“I know _that_, but not too young to be an object of interest just now. -You see it is reported that he was deep in the Abbot’s secrets.” - -“They would indeed be weighty secrets, which the Abbot would entrust to -a mere boy.” - -“Ordinarily your remarks would be just, but the case is peculiar. The -Abbot was suspected to be in possession of lists of names, of papers, -nay of treasure, in connection with the rising in the north, which had -been entrusted to him after the disastrous collapse of the Pilgrimage -of Grace: we are all friends here,” added the priest, fearing lest -he might have committed himself, for had such an expression as -“disastrous,” applied to the royal triumph, been reported to Cromwell, -it might have been his death-warrant.[23] - -“We are alone, my wife and I, and we be no tale-bearers.” - -“Well then, it is said that there must be a secret chamber, somewhere -in the Abbey, not yet discovered, in spite of all the search made for -it by Sir John Redfyrne, the administrator of the property of the Abbey -for the king; who is also an ally of Cromwell, that arch-heretic, and -oppressor of the Church. You are sure there is no one in the house save -yourselves?” - -“Quite sure, don’t fear; but what has this to do with Cuthbert?” - -“Only that a lad named Nicholas Grabber offers to make oath that he -heard the Abbot reveal the secret to Cuthbert, when the two were in -his private chamber, and bid him await the arrival of some mysterious -person, with a ring: Grabber’s account is very defective, but he says -the Abbot discovered his presence, and ordered him roughly away.” - -“As I live,”--said Giles. - -“Of course you know nothing,” said the priest, interrupting, “but I -have learned through friends that a warrant is about to be issued -against the lad: now if he is taken----” - -“But they can lay no _crime_ to his charge, to know a secret is no -crime.” - -“But they _may_, and probably _will_ consider that secret of sufficient -importance to the State to insist upon its disclosure, and if the poor -boy, as will very likely be the case, refuse to tell, they will see -what the thumb-screw, or failing that, even the rack, may effect.” - -“Good heavens! Saint Joseph forbid.” - -“Amen; but the best way is to keep Cuthbert out of the way.” - -“Too late; for here he is!” - -The door opened and our hero entered, all flushed with travel, and with -the delight of meeting his old friends, whom he embraced warmly; after -which he saluted the priest with a lowly reverence. - -“How well he is looking, poor lad,” said the dame: for his face was -flushed with pleasure, or she might still have seen some traces of his -recent trial. A more thoughtful expression sat on his features, such a -period as he had gone through had done the work of years in sobering -his boyish spirits, and bringing on, prematurely, the thoughts and -cares of manhood. - -“Now, Cuthbert,” said the good priest, “I will take a turn on the -green, while you tell all your news to your kind friends, and satisfy -your hunger, and after that I will return for a little talk with you;” -and he went out, but only to pace up and down the green, keeping the -cottage still in sight. - -And we too will leave the good souls within to their endearments for -the same space of time; they will soon know the extent of the danger in -which their foster boy is placed. - -But the priest knows it, and he walks up and down, peering sometimes -into the darkness beyond the green, in the direction of the town, -scrutinizing the faces of the passers-by, until curfew rings from the -tower of his own church. Then he re-enters the cottage. - -Cuthbert, hunger satisfied, is seated in the chimney-corner; the logs -sparkle in the draughts of wind, which find their entrance through -every cranny; the aged couple are seated as before. - -“Father, we have told Cuthbert that you think he ought not to stay -here, but he says he is bound to remain over the morrow; that will not -hurt, will it?” - -“Not if he is unseen, and the news of his coming has not got abroad.” - -“Did anyone see thee, child, as thou enteredst the town?” - -“Alas, I fear _one_ did; Nicholas Grabber was hanging about the gate on -the common.” - -“Nicholas Grabber; then, my boy, thou must not tarry an hour; it is he -who hast already betrayed thee.” - -“Betrayed me! how?” said Cuthbert, alarmed. - -Then the priest told Cuthbert all that our readers have already -learned from his lips, and the lad at once recognized his danger, for -he remembered how Nicholas had lurked about the Abbot’s chamber that -eventful night, when the secret was revealed to him. - -“You are right, Father,” he said, “I must go.” - -“Too late!” said the priest, “too late!” - -For at that moment the tramp of many feet was heard without, followed -by a violent knocking at the door, which the priest fortunately had -barred when he entered. - -“Hide him,” said the good man; “I will keep them at bay for a few -minutes.” - -And the old people hurried Cuthbert out of the room. - -“The back door,” said the boy. - -“Nay, that is watched too; I hear them whispering without.” - -“Then I am lost.” - -“No! no! my boy,” said the old woman, “come up stairs, and get into the -loft.” - -They went hastily up the stairs, into the old people’s bedroom. - -There was no ceiling, but that which plain boards overhead, separating -them from the attic beneath the roof, afforded; knocking one of these -aside with his staff, the old man bade Cuthbert mount on his shoulders, -and get into the loft. The lad did so easily, for the roof of the room -was low, and then replaced the boards, so that no one could see that -there had been any disturbance thereof. - -The loft was often used for the storage of fruit, corn, _flax_, and the -like, and there was a quantity of the latter material stored therein; -on this Cuthbert lay. - -Meanwhile the priest below fulfilled his task. - -“Who are ye, disturbing an honest family after curfew?” - -“Officers of the law, constables; open, in the name of the law.” - -“There be many who avail themselves of that name, with very little -title; robbers be about, and I must have surer warrant ere I admit you.” - -“_Open_, or we will break down the door.” - -“Nay, and thou come to _that_ game, there be those within, good at the -game of quarter staff; meanwhile we will blow the horn and rouse the -watch.” - -“Thou old fool, we will break thy bones, as well as the door; we tell -thee _we_ are the constables--the watch.” - -“’Tisn’t old Hodge’s voice,” said another; “ask the fellow who he is.” - -“Who art thou, fool?” - -“That is for wise men like thee to find out.” - -“Well, then, here are Roger Hancock, John Sprygs, James Griggs, Denis -Howlet, the four constables, and Laurence Craveall, a body servant of -Sir John Redfyrne.” - -“I fear me, friend, thou art taking the names of better men in vain; -more to the token, thou showest thyself a liar: for well do I know that -neither Jack Sprygs nor Jim Griggs ever leave the ale-tap after curfew, -until it is time to tumble, drunk, into their sinful beds.” - -“Break open the doors,” cried the two impugned worthies, in a rage. - -“I will loose the mastiff upon you.” - -But in spite of this direful threat, which it would have been difficult -to fulfil, as no mastiff was in the house, the men commenced breaking -down the door. - -At that instant old Hodge appeared, and signifying by a sign all was -right, cried aloud-- - -“What are you doing at my door?” - -“Breaking it down, with a search warrant for our justification.” - -“Thou mayst save thyself the trouble; I have nought here to hide;” and -the old man withdrew the bars. - -Four ill-looking men, Jacks in office, entered, and behind them two -faces appeared, whose owners preferred to stay without; the one was the -valet of Sir John Redfyrne, the other Nicholas Grabber. - -The two constables whom he had so grievously aspersed fixed their eyes -upon the priest. - -“So it was thou, was it, who kept us waiting?” - -“Your pardon, if I mistook you; doubtless you have good cause for your -untimely errand.” - -“We have pulled down monks, and your turn may come next,” said the -surly John Sprygs, “and then you may not have the chance of taking -sober folks’ reputation away; but enough of this, where is that young -rascal, Cuthbert Hodge, if that is his name, we have a warrant for his -apprehension?” - -“Why, he has been away ever since November.” - -“But came home to-night; here is the witness. Nick Grabber, when didst -thou last see Cuthbert Hodge?” - -“This evening, riding with another lad through the common gate, on the -Langport Road.” - -“And does thy worshipful father permit thee, now thy school days are -over, to spend thy time in Glastonbury as a spy?” said old Hodge. - -“My worshipful father has given me to the care of Sir John Redfyrne, -as a page, old man, so thou hadst better keep a civil tongue in thine -head, and it will be better for thy young bastard’s bones; he shall pay -for it.” - -“I think, my son,” said the priest very quietly, “that when thou wast -coupled between two hounds, as a truant, thou must have learnt from -them to bite and snarl.” - -“We have no time for all this nonsense,” said the head constable, -“where is this youngster?” - -“Since you say he is here, you had better find him.” - -“He has not gone out by the back door,” said Grabber. - -“Or you would have grabbed him.” - -“Even so, with right good will.” - -They proceeded to search the house, but all in vain, and they were at -length about to conclude that the boy had left the place before their -entrance, when Grabber remarked to one of the constables, that he might -be above the boards of the bedroom. “When we were schoolfellows,” he -said, “I have often heard him say that very good apples were kept -there.” - -“The boy has got the right sow by the ear,” says James Griggs, and -followed by the others, he went upstairs again, whereupon the old lady -began to cry. - -“Ah,” said Nicholas, “the scent is hot, the old lady gives tongue.” - -A board was withdrawn, chests piled beneath, and John Sprygs cried out, -“Now, young Nick, you go and grab him.” - -“After you,” said Nicholas, who remembered the weight of his young -opponent’s fist that night in the woods. - -John Sprygs mounted, and was no sooner in the loft than he cried,-- - -“The place is as dark as pitch, pass me up the torch.” - -“Nay! nay!” cried Giles Hodge, “the place is full of flax.” - -“We will take care of that; thou dost not want thy precious brat found.” - -Up went the torch which the men had brought with them, a flaring pine -torch, to assist in the operations; in very wantonness Nick Grabber -tossed it into the fellow’s hand, crying “Catch.” He missed it, and it -fell into a heap of flax. The man started back to avoid the blaze which -instantly sprang up, and so put the fire between him and the moveable -planks--the only moveable ones--which served as a trap-door. - -“Come down, come down,” called out the appalled voices below. - -But the wretch could not face that sea of flame, until, maddened by -desperation, he took a header as boys might say, at the opening through -the fire, and falling head foremost on the bedroom floor, split his -skull and died on the spot. The others could do nothing for him, the -loft was one mass of flame, and shouting “Fire! Fire!” they ran to -get water, in a vain attempt to save the cottage. But of this there -was little hope; the roof was of thatch, and the building mainly of -timber, so they saw in a few minutes that there was nothing for it but -to help the aged couple to save their furniture. - -But what of Cuthbert? they had forgotten him, for the time, then they -said,-- - -“The boy couldn’t have been there, nor in the house, or he would be -driven from his hiding-place now. See how unconcerned the old man -looks; he wouldn’t look so if his precious boy were in danger.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[22] Multiply by twelve for the modern equivalent. See Note H. - -[23] A priest of Chichester, named Christopherson, suffered death -for saying that the king would be damned for the destruction of the -monasteries. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_IN THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY._ - - -No, Cuthbert was not burnt, as the reader has already conjectured, or -our tale would come to an untimely close, untimely as the death of our -hero, and we will now explain the manner of his escape. - -Once in the loft, he remembered that in the innocent confidence of his -boyhood, he had prated of its treasures to Grabber, who he doubted not -was with his pursuers, and he felt that there was scant safety in his -hiding place. - -But there was yet an avenue of escape: a little opening at the end of -the loft, which the ill-fated constable had overlooked, like a dormer -window, admitted light and air to the loft; if he could force himself -through that, and it was only a very small opening, he would emerge on -the roof, and in the darkness might descend and escape unseen. - -He tried and succeeded, and sliding down the long sloping roof, as he -had often done when a small boy, alighted at the back of the house, -while all the officers were within, those who had kept guard without, -having joined the rest, when they judged by the uproar, that the lad -was found. - -But one yet watched there,--the priest who rejoiced to see him. He had -left the house when Grabber told the secret, from reluctance to witness -the capture of the harmless boy. - -“Thank God, my boy,” he said, “thou hast outwitted them; go and hide in -the Abbey ruins, I shall be there at midnight, I have business there, -in the desecrated church; I will tell thy friends thou art safe; go at -once.” - -The boy darted away for the Abbey, but soon he heard loud shouts of -“Fire!” “Fire!” and saw the reflection of the flames in objects around. -Full of anxiety for his foster parents, he could not help turning back, -and would again have run into danger, for the officers, anticipating -such a result, were looking everywhere amongst the crowd, and would -surely have seen him, had not his wise friend, the good parish priest, -also anticipated the same, and met him. - -“Nay, nay, my lad, thou canst do no good, and wilt only add to their -troubles; go into the Abbey church and wait there till midnight; thou -art not afraid?” - -“No,” said Cuthbert, “only take care of _them_,” and he retraced his -steps to the Abbey. - -[Illustration: “THE BOY DARTED AWAY FOR THE ABBEY.” - -_Page 92._] - -The moon had arisen, and illuminated the scene, when through a gap in -the boundary wall Cuthbert entered the once sacred precincts; his heart -was very heavy as he gazed upon the mutilated cloisters, doors torn -from their hinges, windows dashed out, roofless chambers from which the -lead had been torn,--gazed as well as a moon struggling amidst clouds -would allow him to gaze, gazed and wept. - -The same ruins seen now, after the mellowing influences of time have -toned down the painful features, excite interest unmingled, in the case -of most visitors, with regret, and they say, “What a beautiful ruin;” -but it was different then: a visit to Glastonbury, Tintern, or Furness, -must have rent the heart of any one who could feel for the victims -of injustice, or grieve over the wanton mutilation of all that was -beautiful in architecture, or sacred in religion.[24] - -When our hero entered the once beautiful Abbey church, when he saw the -ashes of the holy dead scattered abroad, their tombs defaced; above -all, when he saw the altar which had been stripped and rent from its -place, and this by a people who had not yet renounced their faith in -the sacramental presence, by a king who at the same time sent men and -women to the stake because they disbelieved in Transubstantiation,[25] -he fell upon his face and sobbed, while the words escaped his lips, -“How long, O Lord, how long?” All his early teaching had led him to -revere what he saw thus desecrated, and he was shocked to the very core -of his heart. - -He saw the moonbeams fall through broken windows and chequer the -mutilated floor with light; he sought in vain a place of rest, until it -occurred to him that the organ loft which was over the entrance to the -monk’s choir, and which was reached by a winding staircase, would be -the best place of refuge, in case he should be sought, which he deemed -_unlikely_; there were but few who would harm him, and they were off -the scent. - -I do not attempt to analyse his feelings towards Grabber, neither -would it have been well for the latter to have met Cuthbert just then; -warm-hearted and loving to his friends, nay, Christian in heart as -Cuthbert was, it would have been hard at that time to put in action the -spirit of forgiveness as one ought. - -Up the spiral staircase he crept into the loft; there some cushions -were left by chance amongst the remains of the organ; he contrived to -make a couch out of two or three of them and slept. - -How long he knew not, but at length he seemed to hear the bells ring -out the midnight hour, and he began to dream that he was assisting at -a solemn office for the dead. He awoke and raised himself up; the same -sounds he had heard in his dream were actually ascending from below. - -“Requiem æternam dona eis Domine et lux perpetua luceat eis.” - -Then followed the words of the psalm:-- - -“Te decet hymnus Deus in Syon, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.”[26] - -He gazed around him in amazement. He discovered the familiar odour of -incense, he perceived the glimmer of many tapers. He dared at last, not -knowing whether he beheld ghosts or living men, to look over the edge -of the gallery, and saw a company of monks in the familiar Benedictine -habit, standing around an open grave, while beyond them the desecrated -altar was set up, and furnished with its accustomed ornaments, and the -Celebrant with his assistant ministers, stood before it. - -Then he was convinced that he beheld living men and no phantoms, and -that he saw before him those who survived of his former preceptors and -teachers, the monks of Glastonbury. - -Whom then were they burying? for whom did they chant the requiem Mass? - -And now the epistle was read, and afterwards the solemn sounds of the -sequence arose:-- - - “Dies iræ Dies illa - Solvet sæclum in favilla - Teste David cum Sibylla.”[27] - -He hesitated no longer, he glided down the stairs, and soon his boyish -voice was heard in the sweet verse:-- - - “Recordare Jesu pie - Quod sum causa tuæ viæ - Ne me perdas illa die.”[27] - -As he sang Cuthbert saw he stood by the good parochus. - -The gospel followed, telling of Him Who is the Resurrection and the -Life; after which one of the brethren, a man with the aspect of one in -authority, stood forth, and began a short address:-- - -“We are met to-night, brethren, like the faithful of old, to render -the last rites of the Church to the mutilated remains of our beloved -brethren; gathered, at what risk ye know, from the places wherein the -tyrant had exposed the sacred relics, which were once the home of the -Holy Spirit, wherein Christ lived and dwelt; yea, and which shall rise -again from the dust of death, when body shall unite with the redeemed -regenerate soul, and soar from death’s cold house to life and light.” - -He was interrupted by a sob (it was from Cuthbert), but he went on. - -“And now we bury them in peace, we place the bones of the last -Abbot,--and one more worthy has never presided over Glastonbury,--with -those of his sainted predecessors: together they sleep after life’s -fitful penance, together they shall arise, when the last trump shall -echo over the vale of Avalon. Nor do we forget his faithful brethren, -once the Prior and Sub-Prior of this holy house; they were with him -in his hour of trial, they rest with him now, their mortal bodies, -all that was mortal, here, but their souls, purified by suffering -have, we doubt not, entered Paradise, where they hear those rapturous -strains, that endless Alleluia which no mortal ear could hear and -live. In peace; but secure as we feel for them, we have yet to implore -God’s mercy for ourselves, and His suffering Church, upon which blows -so cruel have fallen. In these holy mysteries, while we commend our -dear brethren to His mercy, our supplications are turned (as saith -Augustine) to thanksgivings; but for ourselves, oh, what need of prayer -that we may breast the waves, as they did, and when the Eternal Shore -is gained, who will count the billows which roar behind?” - -The service proceeded, and when all was over, the stone was replaced -over the grave, which was made to appear as though nought had disturbed -its rest in its bed, the tapers were extinguished, and but one solitary -torch left alight. - -He who appeared the leader of the party, now approached Cuthbert. - -“My son,” he said, “dost thou know this ring?” - -“I do,” and Cuthbert bent the head. - -“Thou meetest me fitly here; and here, over his grave who loved thee, I -take thee to be my adopted child; thou hast found another father in the -place of him thou hast lost; fear not thy foes, I know thy danger, ere -the dawn break thou shalt be in safety.” - -_End of the First Part._ - - -FOOTNOTES - -[24] See Note I. The Abbey Church. - -[25] The Six Articles became law the same year, enforcing nearly all -Roman doctrine. - -[26] Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine -upon them. - -Thou, O God, art praised in Sion, etc. - -[27] 398, Hymns A. and M. - - “Day of wrath, O day of mourning.” - “Think, good Jesu, my salvation, etc.” - - - - -PART II. - -_Cuthbert the Foundling._ - - - O fair Devonia! - Land of the brave and leal, how bright thy skies! - How fresh do show thy rich and verdant meads! - How clear the streams! which from thy hills do run: - How grim the tors! which granite rocks do crown: - How sweet the glens! whose depths the forest hides: - How blue the seas! which ruddy rocks do bound: - Fain would I seek amidst such beauty--rest: - And bid the world--Adieu. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -_THE OLD MANOR HOUSE._ - - -There are few districts in England more picturesque than the southern -slopes of Dartmoor; the deeply wooded glens, the brawling mountain -torrents, the huge tors with their rock-crowned summits and the mists -curling around them, the fertile plains beneath with their deep red -soil, the blue ocean girdling all with its azure belt; all these unite -to form a picture, which _once_ seen, recurs again and again to the -memory, while life lingers. - -A few years after the scenes recorded in the first part of this -tragical history, a young traveller left the inn of the “Rose and -Crown,” Bovey Tracey, late one September evening, bound for the -moorland. The sun was sinking towards the western heights which -bounded the plain, the giant bulwarks of the moorland--Hey Tor, with -its fantastic crown of gigantic rocks, Rippon Tor, with its cairn of -stones,--were already tinged with the glorious hues of sunset, and the -purple heather which covered their slopes, looked its best in the tints -of the departing luminary. - -Our traveller was a youth who had perhaps seen some twenty summers, -but whose smooth face was yet undignified by the beard of manhood; his -attire was of the picturesque style made familiar to us by the pencil -of Holbein: over a close-fitting doublet and nether garments hung a -mantle, flowing open and sumptuously embroidered; his velvet cap was -bound round with a golden band, and adorned with a bright feather and a -jewelled clasp, a silver-hilted sword hung by his side. - -“You must ride quickly, Master Trevannion, or you will hardly climb -the pass before dark, and it is a bad road by the side of the Becky, -especially opposite the fall,” said the landlord, kindly. - -“I know every foot of it, my Boniface, and so does my steed; never fear -for us.” - -“It will be dark early, and perhaps wet; look at that cap of mist upon -Hey Tor.” - -The youth glanced at the little cloud. “I shall be home before it -descends,” he said; “Good night, landlord,” and he rode quickly away. - -“Who is yonder stripling?” said a dark-browed stranger, as the landlord -re-entered the inn. - -“The son and heir of Sir Walter Trevannion,” replied the landlord -respectfully, for the stranger had announced himself as “travelling on -the King’s business,” and was evidently a “man of worship.” - -“And how do you name him?” - -“Cuthbert Trevannion, some day to be _Sir_ Cuthbert, when Sir Walter, -now past his fiftieth year, is gathered to his fathers.” - -“And this Sir Walter, what was he doing in _his_ father’s life-time?” - -“That is hardly known--some say that he was a monk before bluff King -Hal pulled down the rookeries, and that he keeps up the old cloister -life with a few brethren in the old hall, which he seldom leaves; but -that can hardly have been the case, for then how could he have been -married and become possessed of so goodly a son?” - -“And the son--does he confine himself much to the hall?” - -“Oh, he hunts and hawks like other young men, only he keeps somewhat to -the home preserves, and seldom shows abroad.” - -“Are there any other children?” - -“No, this is the only child.” - -“And the mother?” - -“Died before Sir Walter came home.” - -“What year was that?” - -“I cannot remember--but----” - -“Go to, refresh thy memory with a cup of thine own best sack at my -expense, it is before thee on the table.” - -“Well, I think it was in forty.” - -“And this youngster seems about twenty years old; he would have been a -boy of fourteen then.” - -“Your worship has some interest in him?” - -“Nay, only a passing recollection.” - - * * * * * - -We will leave the worthies to their talk, and follow the traveller. - -He had now ridden about three miles from Bovey, when he entered a long -pass between two ridges of hills; by his side a trout stream, called -the Becky, tumbled along, larch trees grew on the banks, and the -heights above were crowded with dwarf oaks, beeches, and other forest -trees. - -Whistling to himself he rode along, hastening to get home ere it was -quite dark, for the roads were both difficult and dangerous, save to -those who knew them well. - -Soon the valley contracted, and there was only room for the torrent and -the road, while the craggy wooded heights rose yet more lofty above: -sometimes, over their summits could be seen the rounded heights of the -moorland. - -The tumbling of a cascade to the left, was heard as the road parted -from the river, and began to ascend a dark pass, where the faint -decaying light was almost excluded by the foliage. - -In devious zig-zags the road ascended to the upper plateau, and our -rider, the summit attained, looked back at the valley. It was a mass of -foliage, which hid the depth; the upper branches glimmered in the rays -of the departing sun which was just disappearing behind a wild-looking -hill, whereon appeared a mass of rocks, so closely resembling the ruins -of a castle, that it needed a keen eye to discover the deception at a -glance. - -But the rocks of Hound Tor were too familiar to our youthful friend to -detain him a moment, and riding through a few meadows, he drew up at -the gate of an ancient manor house, beneath the slope of a rock-clad -hill, which was crowned by a mass of granite resembling the human form, -and from the protuberance of what represented the nasal organ, called -“Bowerman’s Nose.” - -The reader will search in vain for that manor house now; the park in -which it stood has been disafforested, and subdivided into numerous -farm holdings; the stones which formed that mighty wall which encircled -the pleasaunce or garden, or which composed the stately pile within, -may yet exist amidst the materials of many cottages, where beside -poverty and squalor one beholds a carved architrave, or shattered -column; but we are writing of days long gone by. - -Cuthbert Trevannion, to give him the name by which mine host of the -“Rose and Crown” distinguished him, rode up an avenue, and throwing the -bridle of his horse to a groom who stood ready to receive it, asked-- - -“Is my father at leisure?” - -“The supper bell has just sounded.” - -Retiring for one moment to wipe off the sweat and dust of the road, our -youth entered the “refectory,” as they called it at that house. - -It was indeed to all appearance a monastic house--within a room, -wainscotted with dark oak, nine or ten grave old men sat on each side -of the board, and at the head sat Sir Walter Trevannion; all present -wore the dress of the Benedictine order, which, banished from the -stately abbeys founded for the exercise of its splendid worship, -lingered on by the charity of a few worthy knights or nobles in many a -similar asylum, where, until death the poor brethren still kept up the -exercise of their self-discipline. - -To this, Henry had no objection, now that he had their money; for had -not the statute of the six articles just declared that vows of celibacy -were binding until death; a piece of cruel sarcasm, when everything -which could render them _tolerable_, had been taken away, so far as -the power of the crown extended. - -During the supper, all were silent, while one of the brethren read a -homily of S. Augustine; but the meal ended, Sir Walter beckoned to his -_son_ to follow him into the study. - -But it is time that we drop the mask, and explain ourselves. - -Cuthbert Trevannion, now so called, _was_ our Cuthbert; Sir Walter was -that Ambrose, the bearer of the ring, who had received him into his -care, as related at the conclusion of the former part of this tale; -where he had passed six eventful years: years which had witnessed the -dastardly end of the life of the “malleus monachorum,” Cromwell;[28] -the divorce of one queen, the execution of another, and had seen the -tyrant pass into the last stage of his sanguinary reign--burning the -Reformers, and butchering the Romanists who would not acknowledge his -supremacy; the only tyrant upon record, who had the privilege of -persecuting both sides at once. - -The inn-keeper’s account of Sir Walter was true so far as it went; we -will supply the necessary details. - -He was the second son of Sir Arthur Trevannion, the head of an old -Devonian family, but against the will of his father he had assumed the -Benedictine habit, and become the Prior of the famous Abbey of Furness, -in the far north, under the name of Ambrose, so that his father and he -did not meet for many many years. - -Under that name he became implicated in the rising called the -Pilgrimage of Grace, and when his Abbey was dissolved found refuge -abroad, where the news of his elder brother’s death reached him. It -was then thought expedient that he should return home in the guise of -a layman, where owing to the fact that he had taken the monastic vows -under an assumed name, his identity with the Father Ambrose of Furness, -proscribed by the government, was not suspected, and he was received by -his father as a returned prodigal, fresh from abroad. - -The old knight only survived his return a few months, and for the sake -of offering a home to the poor houseless Benedictines whom he gathered -round him, Father Ambrose accepted the facts of his position, and -became, without question, Sir Walter Trevannion of Becky Hall, and the -protector of Cuthbert, to whom he had conceived so great an attachment -(which the lad well deserved) that he adopted him as his son, whereas -his first intention had been to place him in a more subordinate -position until he should shew himself worthy of higher promotion. - -Thus to the outward world he was the country knight, but when the gates -were shut and he was alone with his brethren, he was Prior Ambrose. - -Thus six uneventful years--uneventful, that is, to them--had passed -away, in the quietude of their moorland home, beneath the shade of the -mighty hills, far from the scenes of political strife. - -And there Cuthbert’s education had been completed; when we reintroduced -him to our readers he was already in the bloom of early manhood. - -“Happy the people, who have no history,” says an old well-worn proverb; -for history is only interesting when it deals with those days of war -and excitement which were miserable to contemporaries, but lend a charm -to tradition: “nothing in the papers to-day,” say we moderns, almost -vexed that no train has run off the lines, no steam-boat exploded, no -murderer exercised his art, to fill the columns. - -Similarly those six years of Cuthbert’s past life would have no -interest for the reader, but they had been happy ones to him-- - - “The torrent’s smoothness ere it dash below.” - -And often in later years did he recall them with regret. - -And although he and his adopted father knew it not, another period of -deep excitement and great trial lay before them, upon the eve of which -we draw up our curtain and arrange our _dramatis personæ_. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[28] “Dastardly,” for he who had with such cruel indifference sent -others to the stake, the quartering block, or the axe, lost all his own -courage when a like doom impended over himself--when, without a trial, -he was sentenced, by the process of a “bill of attainder,” which he had -first invented. In the most abject manner he fawned on the tyrant, and -besought mercy in terms which were a disgrace to his manhood. Innocent -of intentional treason against Henry no doubt he was; but was he more -so than many of his own victims, whom on the fifth of July, 1540, he -went to meet before the bar of God? - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -_AN EVENTFUL RAMBLE._ - - -“Cuthbert, my son,” said Sir Walter, “thou hast brought letters from -the town.” - -“Here they are, father,” said Cuthbert, producing a packet which bore -the traces of a long journey, “letters from across the sea.” - -The good knight, or father, whichever we may call him, perused -them eagerly, and Cuthbert sat patiently gazing at a black letter -martyrology to wile away the time. - -“My news concerns thee, dear son,” said his adopted father. “Cuthbert, -thou hast now attained years of discretion, and thy education has -not been neglected; thou art a fair master of English, French, and -Latin, with some knowledge of German; thy mathematics are tolerable -as things go; meanwhile thou hast not neglected the divinest of -studies--theology.” - -“Nor, father, have I forgotten that in this world we must learn to -fence, wrestle, shoot, and if need be, fight.” - -“Nor hunting and hawking, alack-a-day; ‘vanitas vanitatum,’ all is -vanity; but, my son, we must seriously consider now what thy future -life shall be. Here I have letters from two quarters, amongst others, -which concern thee; my good brother, the Abbot of Monte Casino, in far -off Italy, would gladly receive thee as a neophyte, and fit thee to -make thy profession in that holiest and most learned of houses, where -as yet the wild boar rooteth not, neither doth the beast of the field -devour.” - -The old man looked eagerly on the youth, but no answering response met -his gaze. - -“And again,” continued he, “my friend the Baron de Courcy, descendant -of an old and famous Norman house, distinguished even in the days of -the Conquest,[29] offers to receive thee as an esquire and candidate -for the future honour of knighthood, in the service of France, now -happily at peace with England.” - -Cuthbert’s face brightened now--this was the lot which he desired. - -“Ah, my son, I see the world hath hold of thee; would thou could’st -feel the noble ambition to die for the Church, like thy once revered -preceptor.” - -“Father, dear father, believe me no ingrate; for the Church I would -willingly die; but let it be as a warrior, sword in hand, fighting for -her rights, she needs such,--the warrior’s death if need be, but not -the stake or quartering block, unless God call me to it,--and then thy -child may not disobey.” - -“I have ever foreboded this decision, yet it ruins my fondest -hopes--but if God has not given the vocation man can do nought--and -therefore I have sought the double opening for thee; thou choosest, -then, the soldier’s life, under my old friend of Courcy, whom I know to -be as valiant and devout a warrior as one could find, yet withal one -who will not spare correction, and who can be stern at need.” - -“I do choose it, since you leave it to me, yet I grieve to cross thy -will.” - -“Take till to-morrow to consider of it; a ship, under a captain whom -I know, will leave Dartmouth shortly for France, and thou mayest go -under his care. But first there is a duty to discharge; we must both -go to Glastonbury, where the lapse of time will have obliterated thy -remembrance from the towns folk, and destroy those papers; there is no -longer any occasion for their existence.” - -“When shall we travel?” - -“I have engagements which detain me here for another week, then we -shall set out; and now, my son, commend thyself to God, and seek His -grace to guide thee at this solemn turning-point in thy life. Benedicat -te Deus, et custodiat te semper, noctem quietam concedat Dominus.” - -It was not till the midnight hour had passed that Cuthbert could sleep; -he realised that he had come to a point in the road of life, where two -ways branched off to right and left, either of which, fraught with -diverse issues, he might follow, but which? - -And the same figure continually haunted him in his dreams, even the two -roads; sometimes the strife of battle and death in the forlorn hope, or -in the deadly breach, seemed the goal of the one, and then the other -appeared to lead to a desert of racks, stakes, and other appliances, -too familiar to the proselytizing zeal of that era. - -There were other visions, but visions of peace--of a home of rest -beyond some fearful toil, some deadly peril which had preceded it in -the dream. - -Wakeful, but not refreshed, Cuthbert rose with the sun; the words of -Sir Walter, “Take a day to consider,” rang in his mind; it should be a -day of solitude. - -He took a slight breakfast, and then ascended the hill above the -house, crowned with the Druidical idol of a long vanished day; through -furze and crag he scrambled to the summit; before him lay a land -of desolation; moor after moor, swelling into hills, subsiding into -valleys, tinged with light or shade as the shadows of the clouds drove -over the wastes before the wind; like the restless ocean, it had a -strange charm in its very boundlessness; its vastness seemed to calm -one, as if an image of the illimitable eternity. - -And above rose the mis-shapen token of a faith and worship long -extinct; a few huge blocks of granite composed the figure, so arranged, -whether by nature or art, that they looked human in outline; and -before, on that flat slab of stone, many victims must have bled--human -victims perhaps, in honour of the Baal-God. - -That distant ridge of serrated teeth-like mountains, perpetuates the -name Bel Tor; perchance Phœnicians of old, brought over the worship -dear to Jezebel, and in these latter days, the name still speaks of -that dread idolatry. - -So man passes away like the shadows of the clouds over the moor, and -yet these bare hills and rocky tors remain the same, as when the smoke -from the idol sacrifice ascended. - -Then Cuthbert descended; he reached the valley, climbed the opposite -ridge--that strange pile so like a ruined castle which men call Hound -Tor; onward again up a deep valley, then a scramble amidst rocks and -heather, and the huge granite blocks which form the summit of Hey Tor, -are gained. - -Oh, what a variegated view of land and sea--the wild hills over the -Dart, nay, over the Tavy; the huge bulk of Cawsand in the north; the -estuaries of the Dart and Teign; nay, across the sea, a cloud-like -vision of Portland Isle, full sixty miles away. - -But our young mountaineer has seen enough, and his thoughts are ever -busy; he descends the hill and enters the forests which then fringed -their bases. Has he an object in view? Yes, there is one he would -fain see near Ashburton, pure and fair Isabel Grey, daughter of a -neighbouring squire, whose beauty had revealed to him the secrets of -his own heart, and steeled him against entering the ranks of a celibate -priesthood. - -This is not a love story, and we shall not follow him to listen to -his vows, to hear him implore his charmer to tarry till he can return -crowned (he doubts not) with glory gained in the wars, and offer her -the heart of a would-be bridegroom. - -He returns at length by the lower road, strikes the pass he ascended, -last night, at about the same hour, but the long ramble has fatigued -him; he rests for one moment at the summit of the ridge. - -It wants an hour to sunset, he will go to the point of Hound Tor -Coombe; it is but a few steps, and is a projecting spur of the range -which separates the two wooded, rock-strewn valleys, Lustleigh and -Becky, just before they unite in one beautiful vale, above Bovey Tracey. - -There he lies listening to the streams which babble on each side far -below, and anon--shall we tell it to his shame--falls asleep. - -He is awoke by the murmur of voices. - -“I tell thee the old fellow is worth a mint of money, and Jack -Cantfull, who is the ostler at the ‘Rose and Crown,’ says he rides all -alone to Moreton, and goes through this pass, but why he takes this -road instead of the other I know not, only Jack is to be his guide.” - -“He will pay for knocking on the head!” - -“Jack will expect his share when the deed is done.” - -“Nay,” said another voice, “no throat cutting or head splitting, if it -can be done without.” - -“Thou hast become scrupulous, Tony; hast thou forgotten the colour of -blood?” - -“Nay, as I am a true Gubbing,[30] I mind it no more than ale, when -called upon to shed it, but we need not make the country too hot to -hold us.” - -“Dead men tell no tales.” - -“Well, we must be moving, he was to start at six.” And soon Cuthbert -heard them climb down the slope from a cave (well known to him, but -which happily he had not entered) below the summit on which he had been -reposing. - -They had gone to beset the pass higher up. - -So soon as the sound of their footsteps had ceased, Cuthbert descended -or rather _slid_ down the hill into the road beneath, behind the men, -and in spite of his fatigue, walked rapidly back towards Bovey. - -Soon he came to the junction of two roads--the one, the upper way, -leading through the pass and so to Chagford, and by a circuitous route -to Moreton; the other a branch road which led more directly to the -latter town, which the traveller had abandoned: to take, for his own -reasons, a more circuitous and difficult route under a treacherous -guide. - -At the point where the ways met Cuthbert waited, and shortly heard the -sound of horses; he then beheld the riders--the one a tall dark looking -man, evidently of rank and importance, the other a sort of stable -helper from the inn at Bovey. - -“Stand,” cried Cuthbert, “I would fain speak with you, sir.” - -“Who is this, who cries ‘stand’ upon the King’s highway?” - -“A friend, one who would save you, Sir John, if you be Sir John; danger -lurks ahead; three cut-throats, ‘Gubbings,’ they call them about here, -a half-gipsy brood, lie in wait at the pass, and lurk for your life.” - -“How sayest thou, my lad? Look, sirrah, what sayest thou to this?” - -But the treacherous groom had heard all, and rode on at full gallop, -barely escaping a pistol-shot his indignant employer sent after him. - -“He will bring them back in no time: take the lower road.” - -“And thou, my poor lad, they will avenge themselves on thee.” - -“Nay, I know every turn in the woods; I can run home.” - -“Sore uneasy should I be for thee. Ah, see, the rogues appear, they -heard the shot.” - -About half-a-mile along the road, moving forms rapidly running towards -them might be obscurely discerned as they turned a crest of the hill. - -“Jump behind, thou canst ride ‘pillion.’” - -Cuthbert complied, and Sir John spurred his horse and galloped along -the lower road; even then, by cutting across a shoulder of the hill, -the Gubbings, as Cuthbert called them, gained upon them and shot two or -three useless arrows, and then they could do no more, for the road lay -straight forward, and they had no further advantage. - -After a little while Sir John said-- - -“I think we may now take our ease; thou hast saved my life, lad, and I -shall not forget it. What is thy name?” - -“Cuthbert Trevannion; and thine, sir?” - -The rider started perceptibly as he heard the name, and Cuthbert -noticed it. After a moment he said, with emphasis-- - -“Sir John Redfyrne, a poor knight of his sacred majesty’s household.” - -Cuthbert remembered the name too well, and his earnest desire was to -get away without any further revelations. - -“I have lately come from Glastonbury,” said Sir John; “dost thou know -the place?” - -Cuthbert could not lie. “I have been there,” he said. - -“There was some talk of a lad of thy name when I first knew the town, -who was educated at the Abbey.” - -“It may be, sir; but see, that road will take me home, and there is no -danger now; may I dismount?” - -“Not just yet; here is a roadside inn, thou must at least grace me with -thy presence over a cup of sack.” - -“But my father will be uneasy.” - -“I will answer for him.” - -Not to increase Sir John’s suspicions, Cuthbert dismounted at the inn, -and allowed himself to be led into a private chamber. Sir John waited -for a moment, and descended the stairs. - -“Dost thou know that youth?” he asked of the landlord. - -“The son of Sir Walter Trevannion.” - -“He lives near here?” - -“Yes, at Trevannion Hall.” - -He returned to Cuthbert. - -“My lad,” he said, “I owe thee many thanks, and grieve that I may not -stay longer to repay them than suffices to discuss this sack; my road -now lies to Moreton, and I shall soon have quitted these parts; perhaps -I may call some future day upon thy father, who, I hear, lives near, to -thank thee in his presence.” - -“I may go then, sir?” - -“With my best thanks; nay, wear this chain as a memento of the giver -and the Gubbings; fare thee well.” - -And Cuthbert hastened home. - -But Sir John remained yet a little while, seated in the saddle, as he -made several innocent enquiries of the landlord. - -And they were all about Trevannion Hall. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[29] Read “The Andredsweald,” by the same Author. (Parker’s Oxford.) - -[30] See Note J. The Gubbings. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -_AN ACT OF GRATITUDE._ - - -Sir Thomas Stukely of Chagford, gentleman, was a type of the old -English justice of his day; a hundred pounds a year, equivalent -to a thousand now, represented the condition of the squire of the -parish, and heavy duties had he to perform; to wit, it was his duty -to know everything and everybody; did any parent bring up his child -in idleness, it was his place to interfere and see that the child was -taught an honest trade; did any vagrants go about begging, it was his -duty to see them tied to a cart’s tail and flogged, or even in extreme -cases of persistence to see them hanged out of the way, for the days -were stern days. - -It was his to bridle all masterless men, and, if they would not work, -to send them to gaol; and to see that all youths, forsaking idle dicing -and gaming, or the frequenting of taverns, gave themselves to manly -exercises, archery, cudgel playing, and the like; that each might be a -soldier in time of need. - -His hour of rising, in summer, was four o’clock, with breakfast at -five, after which his labourers went to work, and he to his business; -in winter, perhaps an hour later was allowed to all. Every unknown -face, met in the country roads, was challenged by the constables, -and if the stranger gave not a good account of his wayfaring, he was -brought before the justice; did the grocer give short weight, or the -cobbler make shoes which let water, it must all come before Sir Thomas, -as he was called in courtesy, for he was only “a squire.”[31] - -At twelve he dined in company with his household: good beef, mutton, -ale, and for the upper board wine--Canary, Malmsey, or the like; bread -was plentiful, both white and brown, vegetables, before the advent of -potatoes, scarce;[32] the ladies made the pastry with their own fair -hands. - -The doors stood open to all comers at the hours of dinner and supper; -they of gentle degree fared at the squire’s table, of simple at the -lower board with the servants, which formed with the upper one the -letter T. - -Free board and free lodging to all honest comers; it might be rough but -it was ready; as the squire and his household fared, so did the guests, -both in bed and board. - -Early after his dinner, the squire went hunting, or rode about the -farms and looked after his tenants; saw that the fences were in good -repair, the roads well kept; and returned at sunset to supper. - -In his old wainscotted hall, panelled with black oak, its ceiling -decorated with the arms of the Stukelys between the interlacing beams, -a fire of logs in the huge hearth, and two favourite hounds lying -before it, sat Justice Stukely and his wife at supper. - -A ring at the bell, and the porter ushered in a stranger. - -“My name is Redfyrne, Sir John Redfyrne, travelling upon the King’s -business, and craving your hospitality.” - -“It is thine, man,” said the host, “sit down there,” as he pointed to -the vacant seat of honour by his side; “beef and bread are by thee, and -here is good October, or there fair Malmsey, to wash it down.” - -Sir John ate heartily; and his host did not ply him with many -questions until he had finished a huge platter of meat, and discussed a -jorum of ale. - -“Hast ridden far, Sir John?” - -“From Bovey only.” - -“Which way, round Moreton or by the Becky?” - -“By the Becky, where I narrowly escaped the Gubbings.” - -“The Gubbings!” and the squire with difficulty repressed a malediction, -which rose to his lips. “They are like wasps, kill one, a hundred -come to his funeral. Only last month we caught a party of them -red-handed, and hung them up on the spot, for they are not Christians -or Englishmen, and we thought it wasn’t worth while to trouble judge -or jury over them. There we strung them up from the beeches of Holme -Chase, the prettiest beech-nuts honest eyes could rest upon--five men, -two women, and three boys; yet they are not frightened away from these -parts yet.” - -“Nor ever will be unless you hunt them from the moor with bloodhounds.” - -“It _may_ come to that; they are a plague-spot in the Commonwealth, and -especially upon our fair country of Devon. But what news from court, -Sir John?” - -“The King’s Majesty’s health is better, but he hath been sorely tried -by the humour of one Dr. Crome, who preached in a sermon, that no -one could approve of the dissolution of the monasteries, and at the -same time admit the usefulness of prayers for the souls in purgatory; -his majesty thought the speech levelled against himself, and Dr. -Crome being examined before the Council, criminated ex-Bishop Latimer -and many others. Crome and Latimer saved themselves by recantation, -but Anne Askew, a maid of honour about the court; Adlam, a tailor; -Otterden, shame to say, a priest; and Lascelles, a gentleman in -waiting, have all been burnt alive at Smithfield. Shaxton, late Bishop -of Worcester, smelt strongly of the faggot, but he recanted just in -time, and preached the funeral sermon over his late allies as they -smouldered.” - -“That reminds me of the old song,” said the Justice, “which they sang -in France when I made my first essay in arms there, the King was young -then. - - “‘Apotre de Luthere, - Si l’on brule ta chair, - C’est seulement que tu saches d’avance - Les tourments d’enfer.’”[33] - -“Well, for the witch and for the heretic a faggot is the best cure. -What else is going on?” - -“They say that an ingenious mechanist has invented a machine to move -the King upstairs and down in his chair without difficulty; he is so -corpulent that little trace is left of the princely gallant of the -Cloth of Gold.” - -“Queen Catharine has a hard time of it?” - -“She is a good nurse, but she is careful not to cross the royal temper.” - -“There are five good examples set before her in her predecessors.” - -And so the talk went on, over the recent peace concluded with France -in the previous summer; over the disputes in court between the party -of Cranmer and the Seymours on the one hand, and that of the Duke of -Norfolk, and Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, on the other. But we will -not weary the reader with any more of the chit-chat of the latter days -of Henry VIII., now drawing near his end, furious as a wild beast at -the slightest contradiction, worshipped by his courtiers on bended -knee, and putting to the death Catholic and Protestant alike, if they -varied from the doctrines stated in the “King’s Boke.” - -The supper over and the servants dismissed, the real purpose of Sir -John’s visit came out, and the Justice learned with deep surprise -mingled with disgust, that he sought a warrant for the arrest of Sir -Walter Trevannion and his reputed son Cuthbert, and men to execute the -same. - -“Sir Walter Trevannion! why, what has he done?” - -“Nought as Sir Walter, but much as Father Ambrose of Furness Abbey.” - -“Pooh! pooh! if the old man has been a monk it was lawful to be so -once; and if they still play at monkery, why the King has their money, -let them play.” - -“It is, I fear, a more serious business than you imagine, Sir Thomas; -this Father Ambrose was art and part in the northern insurrection, -which they call the ‘Pilgrimage of Grace,’ and moreover, attainted for -that very crime.” - -“But how dost thou identify him with Sir Walter, who seems a harmless -country gentleman?” - -“I have been on his track for many years; it was I who detected -that traitor, the some-time Abbot of Glastonbury, in correspondence -with him, and I am well assured that buried somewhere beneath the -foundations of the ruined pile of that Abbey lies a secret chamber -containing papers and documents, which would reveal the names and -machinations of many traitors to his royal highness; but there is -only one who knows the secret of its whereabouts, and that one is the -adopted son of Sir Walter.” - -“The _adopted_ son, young Cuthbert, is he not the real son?” - -“No, Sir Walter was a monk till the dissolution; this young Cuthbert -was a foundling, brought up at Glastonbury, who disappeared when we -were on the point of seizing him, and has never been heard of since, -till, being on the trail of Father Ambrose, I unearthed him as Sir -Walter Trevannion, and at the same time, killing two birds with one -stone, found my master Cuthbert. It is a glorious stroke of luck, and -will make my fortune at court.” - -“And the poor Trevannions,--for there is no doubt Sir Walter _is_ Sir -Walter?” - -“None at all, his father denounced him for becoming a monk against the -paternal will.” - -“Well, the poor Trevannions, what of them? what will be their fate?” - -“If, Sir Thomas, you are a friend to King Harry, as holding his -commission you must be, you will accompany me with the dawn of day to -the manor house, with a guard of constables in case of resistance, and -so enable me to seize the couple of traitors, and lodge them safely in -Exeter gaol.” - -“It must be done, since you yourself, who are the accredited agent of -the King, answer for it, and since you say your evidence is sure; but I -would sooner you had some other errand than to put me on this job. It -is hard upon a man to seize his own neighbours and equals in this way. -Can you prove the identity? there is the question.” - -“A monk, an apostate if you care to call him one, is at my beck and -call, who was at Furness with Prior Ambrose, and knows every hair on -his head.” - -“And the lad?” - -“An old schoolfellow at the Abbey is with me, who saw him, himself -unseen, at Bovey yesterday, and can swear to him.” - -“Then we had better go to bed, for we must rise betimes.” - -“Only write out the warrants to-night. You can lodge me?” - -“As I would the devil if he came on the King’s service. Nay, be not -offended, I love not this butchering work, chopping up men into -quarters; but still the King is the King, and justice must be done. I -have had my bark and will not fail you when the time comes to bite.” - - * * * * * - -When Cuthbert reached home that night, he lost no time in telling -Father Ambrose, or Sir Walter, by whichever name the reader likes to -call him, the story of his meeting with Sir John Redfyrne. - -Sir Walter looked very serious as he heard it; he did not like the look -of the affair. - -“It might have been well for _thee_, poor lad, hadst thou let the -Gubbings finish their work.” - -“But would it have been right, father?” - -“No, that it would not, and as thou hast done thy duty, so I doubt not -thou may’st look for divine protection and the guardianship of saints -and angels; but one thing is certain, we must anticipate danger by -doing at once what we should have deferred for a week--to-morrow we -ride for Glastonbury.” - -“To-morrow; and must I leave this place, perhaps for ever, so soon, no -good-bye said?” - -“Thou may’st never leave it at all otherwise, save as a captive; yes, -to-morrow, as soon after dawn as arrangements can be made for my -absence.” - -The sun had just risen on the following morning when two powerful -horses, saddled and bridled, furnished with saddle-bags, and a third -with a servant already mounted, were in the court-yard. The aged monks -clustered about the door, their Lauds said, to bid their benefactor a -short farewell; his favourite servants awaited his parting commands, -when all at once a man came hurriedly forward to say that Sir Thomas -Stukely, with a strange gentleman and a band of constables, was coming -up the avenue. - -“Cuthbert, mount,” cried Sir Walter, and the two cutting short their -good-byes, jumped upon their steeds, surprised out of their calmer -senses, by this sudden and unlooked for announcement. “This way, my -son,” cried the old knight, and led the way across a paddock behind the -house; disappearing in a copse beyond, just as the pursuers reached the -court-yard, and found the old men and servants trying to look as if -nothing had happened. - -“My life upon it, they are but just gone,” cried Sir John Redfyrne, as -he gazed around. - -The two fugitives rode through the copse by a narrow path, and then -emerged on the road just at the brink of the pass described before; -here the way descended to the level of the Becky by several zig-zags: -and they were forced to ride very cautiously. - -Not so cautiously, however, but a trivial accident happened, involving -most tragical consequences. - -Sir Walter’s horse trod on a mole hill, just thrown up, and his foot -sank in the loose earth; causing him to stumble and throw his master to -the ground; Cuthbert was down in a moment, and at his foster father’s -side, and, to his joy, he saw his benefactor arise and sit up as if -unhurt, but when he tried to get on his legs, he groaned and said-- - -“My son, I fear my poor leg is broken, the stirrup held and twisted -it.” - -“Nay, nay, my father, let me help you.” - -Sir Walter almost swooned with pain as he made a desperate effort to -arise; then said, “Cuthbert, ride on, it is _you_ they seek, remember -all that depends on you, ride on to Glastonbury, and wait for news of -me; if I come not, you know what to do, ride on: ah! here they come, -gallop forward ere you be too late.” - -“Do you think I can leave you now, father?” said the poor youth. “Oh, -try once more. Nay, it is useless, here they are.” - -“Put the best face you can on the matter; do not let them see we were -flying from them.” - -“Help, help, Sir Walter Trevannion has fallen from his horse, and -broken his leg.” - -“What,” cried Sir Thomas Stukely as he rode up; “how is this, Sir -Walter, not much hurt I hope; we must help you home,--come, men, bear a -hand.” - -“No more of this trifling,” cried Sir John Redfyrne, sternly; “while it -goes on, that lad may escape, and he is worth his weight in gold; do -your duty, constables, and you, Sir Thomas.” - -“By zounds, I want no man to teach me my duty, least of all a cockney -knight: look here, Trevannion, tell me the truth and I will act no -knave’s part to spite an old friend whose father was my crony, and so -serve some one else’s grudge; art thou, or art thou not, the man they -seek as Father Ambrose, Prior of Furness? say _no_, and we will help -thee home, and leave thee in peace; now man, why dost thou not speak?” - -Sir Walter looked upon his friend, such a sad look, in which gratitude -struggled with pain. - -“Stukely,” he said, “do thy duty, thou art ever a true man.” - -Stukely groaned aloud, but he offered no further opposition, and the -party, escorted by the constables, took the road for Bovey, _en route_ -for Exeter gaol. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[31] The title “Sir” did not in these days _necessarily_ imply -knighthood; it was commonly given to Justices of the Peace, scions of -noble family, and even to Parish Priests, although we have not used it -in that connexion for fear of creating confusion in the mind of the -modern reader. - -[32] Until late in this reign no edible roots were grown as food in -England. - -[33] These cruel lines are authentic; the martyrdoms related really -occurred on July the sixteenth, 1546, but perhaps the news had not -reached Devon, and was not “stale news” there. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -_EXETER GAOL._ - - -One of the foulest disgraces resting upon mediæval England, but not -upon her alone, was the state of her prisons. In such filth were the -prisoners kept, that a peculiar fever, called the “gaol fever,” broke -out from time to time amongst them, and swept off the poor wretches by -hundreds. - -But often this malady, the source of which was neglect and cruelty, -avenged itself upon the gaolers, and not upon them only, but upon -judges, jury, and officers alike; thus at Oxford the assizes known as -the Black Assize, in the reign of Elizabeth, became historical.[34] It -was convened for the trial of some Catholic recusants, when the foul -miasama spread from the wretched prisoners, and judges, jury, sheriff, -and officers alike sickened and died. - -Thus at the time of which we are writing, rosemary, rue,[35] and sweet -smelling herbs were scattered about the court house at Exeter, where -“as worshipful a jury as ever was seen,” was convened for the trial of -the Trevannions, “father and son,” for the crime of high treason. - -Their condition evoked great sympathy, and the county town, or rather -cathedral city, was crowded upon the day of trial by sympathizers with -the accused. It took place in the ancient citadel called Rougemont, -which for five centuries offered defiance to the English--when held by -the early British or Welsh--until the days of Athelstan; and only a -century and a-half later, in the hands of the English, it bade a brief -defiance to the Norman conqueror. - -Tradition, falsely enough, assigned its origin to Julius Cæsar, and -derived its name more truly from the red sandstone which forms the -substratum of the castle hill; but whoever founded it, it shared the -usual fate of our edifices, both secular and ecclesiastical, in being -rebuilt by the Normans, who were rarely contented with aught their old -English predecessors had done. - -Here, during the brief period of Anglo-Saxon domination, many of the -royal race of Cerdic held their court, when they visited their western -conquests. - -Here also the conquering Norman took up his abode, and to secure the -castle to his interests, following therein his usual crafty policy, -gave it to be held, in feudal tenure, by one of his chief nobles, -Baldwin de Biron, who had married his niece, Albreda. - -Here was the county gaol, and here the governor occupied the tenantable -rooms in the ancient castle, two of which were assigned to the -prisoners, in consequence of their position amongst the Devonian -aristocracy--few expected aught for them but a triumphant acquittal; -but all the time Sir John Redfyrne felt sure of his prey. - -They were thus allowed the consolation of each other’s society; their -food was supplied from the governor’s own table, but before them lay -the blankness of despair, so far as this world was concerned. - -For supposing they escaped the heavier accusation of “misprison of -treason” hanging over both,--the elder for his voluntary share in the -northern insurrection, the younger for his concealment of a secret -involving the King’s peace,--there was another weapon to which their -foe might have immediate recourse. - -This weapon was the Act of Supremacy. - -Would they take the oath? If not the cruel fate assigned to traitors -lay before them. - -Cuthbert’s own theories were not very defined on the point, but he -would strive to follow such guides as Richard Whiting and Walter -Trevannion. - -But what was the object of Sir John Redfyrne in thus precipitating -matters? It was simply that he wished to get _Cuthbert_ into his power. -He cared less for the elder prisoner, he might die or live, but were -it once placed clearly before the youth that he might save his life by -betraying the secret he was supposed to possess, there could be, to Sir -John’s mind, no doubt that he would give the clue, and all would be -well. - -Then as it would no longer interfere with weightier interests, he would -show his gratitude for such a trifling favour as the preservation -of his own life; and should Cuthbert, as was likely in such a case, -lack _other_ friends, even provide decently for his future in some -subordinate position. - -But first of all the danger must become real, or the youth’s obstinacy -would never be subdued,--the jury _must_ condemn. - - * * * * * - -It was the day of trial, and all the approaches to the court were -crowded. We will not appear on the scene in person, we have seen a -very similar trial at Glastonbury; but we will just read a number of -depositions, as they were written down in the county archives, in old -books not generally accessible. - -Laurence Tooler, known as Father Paul in religion, deposeth that he -was one of the brethren at Furness Abbey, and being an apt scribe was -employed by the Prior Ambrose as his secretary, copied lists for him -of the leaders in the “Pilgrimage of Grace,” their contributions, in -money, men, and arms. Sent copies of the same by the hands of a sure -messenger to Abbot Whiting, of Glastonbury; also, at later period, -consigned sums of money by ship to the Bristol Channel and thence -to Glastonbury: supposed it to be for safe keeping on behalf of the -dispossessed brethren. Identifieth the elder prisoner as Prior Ambrose. -Admitteth he was once chastised by the Prior for breach of his monastic -vows. - -Jacques Le Fuyard, an English subject, son of an English mother and -French father, speaketh both languages fluently: was employed by the -English Government under Cromwell, to track the political refugees in -Flanders and elsewhere; knew Prior Ambrose of Furness, at Antwerp; -that he, the Prior, often corresponded with Reginald Pole, “the King’s -chief enemy across the seas;” that he was more than once with the Papal -Nuncio, and often closeted with the Spanish Ambassador; understood that -he had given up politics; lost sight of him at Brussels, knew him again -in Sir Walter Trevannion; and recognized him, recently, when tarrying -about the neighbourhood of the manor house at Becky Hall, near Bovey. - -Gregory Grigges, deposeth that he was groom to old Sir Arthur -Trevannion; is very old now, nearly eighty years; knew the present Sir -Walter as a boy, remembers his running away, and becoming a monk, as he -heard; the old knight would have nought to say to him afterwards; the -elder brother, Sir Roger, died of decline, and the old man longed for -his only surviving son, sent abroad and spent much money in enquiries; -at length Sir Walter returned. Doth not like Sir Walter so well as his -father: hath been put in the stocks by him for having a very little -drop too much. That is he present, the prisoner. - -Nicholas Grabber deposeth that he was a schoolboy at Glastonbury Abbey, -where they got plenty to fill their heads, but little to put into their -stomachs; has felt it ever since in a tendency to boils and blains: the -meat was so rotten it dropped from your fork as you held it, and the -fish stank; hated the Abbot because he was, he thought, an enemy to the -King. Watched him narrowly. One day the Abbot sent for the prisoner at -the bar; he (Nicholas) would fain know why, suspecting treason, and -crept after; heard the Abbot talk to prisoner about papers and a secret -chamber, which was to be disclosed to someone who should present a -ring which prisoner would recognize: prisoner always making up to my -Lord Abbot. - -Questioned whether he had any motives for dislike to prisoner: said -only that he hated favourites; once he fought with him and was -thrashed; _was_ once sent back as a truant to the Abbey, coupled -between two hounds, but bore no malice for it, oh no!--only actuated by -loyalty to the King; Sir John Redfyrne had shown him his duty. Here the -magistrates told him they wanted to hear no more. - -To sum up the story, the jury were of opinion that the identity of Sir -Walter Trevannion with Prior Ambrose of Furness was clearly proved, -that under that name he had been guilty of high treason, but they -recommended him to mercy in consideration of his evident reformation in -later years. - -They found that there was not sufficient evidence to convict the -younger prisoner of “misprison of treason.” - -Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne desired that the Oath of Supremacy be -tendered to the younger. - -The judges declared that the demand could not be refused, although they -thought it vexatious, and evidently expecting that the young man would -at once show his loyalty, were astonished by a blank refusal. - -Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne observed they might recognize the true -pupil of Richard Whiting. - -The judges besought the youth, who was only a little more than twenty -years of age, to consider the consequences of his refusal. - -He still remained obstinate, with the evident approval of the elder -prisoner, his reputed father. - -Thereupon sentence of death, after the usual fashion, was pronounced -upon both prisoners: to be drawn upon hurdles to the cathedral yard, -and there to be hanged, but not till they were dead, cut down alive, -and dismembered. - -The prisoners thanked God for calling them to die in what they called -“so good a cause,” and thanked the jury for the patience with which -they had heard them, and the desire they had shown to save their lives, -with a simplicity which brought tears to all eyes. - -Sir John Redfyrne, on behalf of the Crown, asked and obtained a week’s -respite, such sentences being usually executed on the morrow. - -The prisoners were removed; a dangerous tendency was visible amongst -the mob, many of whom cried, “God bless them.” - -By desire of Sir John Redfyrne they were separated and placed in -solitary confinement. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: “THE POOR LAD GAVE HIM ONE INDIGNANT LOOK.” - -_Page 143._] - -So far we have made extracts from the registers of Rougemont. - -What was Sir John’s object in all this? why did he persist in securing -the condemnation of Cuthbert? and then insist upon the delay of a week -in its execution? - -Because he trusted to the weakness of human nature, and thought that -the fear of death would extract the secret he craved. - -And if the fear of death did not extract it, he meant to obtain it by -torture; he was provided with a warrant to that effect from the council. - -Torture was not, even then, lawful in England, but could be applied -by special warrant of the Privy Council, in cases where the safety of -the commonwealth was concerned; and this was considered to be one, as -the royal Blue-Beard himself was ravenously eager for such wholesale -detection of his enemies, as would be attained by the discovery of the -records of Furness transmitted to Glastonbury. - -On the day following the trial and condemnation, Sir John Redfyrne -visited Cuthbert in his cell. - -The poor lad gave him one indignant look, then turned his head aside -and would regard him no further. - -“Cuthbert Trevannion, thou regardest me as thy foe, yet I am not; thou -didst save my life from robbers, and I own it, and own that I must -appear ungrateful beyond conception, yet I have one excuse, I love my -young benefactor, but love my King and country better.” - -No answer. - -“Thou knowest the existence of a secret chamber at Glastonbury.” - -Still no reply. - -“Reveal that secret, and I pledge myself to provide for thy future -fortunes, to restore thee to liberty and honour, nay to gratify the -most extravagant desires of thy young heart.” - -He paused in vain. - -“Or, failing this, if thou wilt not be led by kindness and mercy, there -remain the sharp arguments of thumb-screw and rack.” - -The answer came at length. - -“Do thy worst, and God judge between me and thee.” - -Sir John departed. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[34] See Note K. The Black Assize. - -[35] Hence the phrase “He shall rue it.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -_PUT TO THE QUESTION._ - - -Low, hidden in the very foundations of the Castle of Rougemont, was an -arched dungeon of considerable dimensions, which only the initiated -knew. - -You descended into it by a winding staircase, excavated in the very -thickness of the wall, and entered, after a descent of thirty steps, on -opening a huge door of stone, which shut again with a resonant clang, -and struck horror into the heart. - -It had no communication with other cells, neither had it any species of -window; so that those who were within, when the door was shut, were cut -off from all sight and sound of the external world. - -Summer or winter, night or day, storm or calm, might reign above, all -was alike down there. - -At one end was a platform of wood raised about a foot from the stone -floor; upon this stood an oaken table with writing materials, and -behind it a grand mediæval chair with the insignia of justice, the -sword and scales, carved thereon; and at the opposite end was an arched -recess concealed by a curtain, which hid both the executioners and the -implements of torture until they were needed, when some unhappy wretch -had to be “put to the question.” - -But even in their most ruthless days, the dread ministers of English -justice only used torture as a last resource, to wring guilty secrets -from the criminal, when the welfare of the State appeared to sanction -the cruelty--they never descended to the fearful refinements of the -German dwellers on the Rhine in their robber castles, where fiendish -ingenuity was displayed in pushing agony to its utmost limits without -violating the sanctuary of life.[36] - -On the third day solitude and silence having failed of their effect, -Cuthbert was brought down into this den. - -At the table sat the governor of Rougemont, in his chair of state, -and by his side Sir John Redfyrne; a physician, clothed in a long dark -cloak, a clerk with pen and parchment, ready to take down the answers -of the prisoner, were the only other persons present, at least in -sight, when the two gaolers brought down the unfortunate youth. - -“Thy name?” said the governor. - -“Cuthbert Trevannion.” - -“Hast thou always borne that name?” - -“No, only a few years.” - -“What other hast thou borne?” - -“Cuthbert, only.” - -“What then is thy real name?” - -“I know not.” - -“Who was thy father? What was he called?” - -“I was a foundling, and cannot tell.” - -“What is thy age?” - -“I was found an infant in the wood of Avalon, on the 28th day of -December, in the year 1525.” - -Sir John started at this announcement, and looked earnestly at the -speaker. - -“At whose charge wast thou brought up?” - -“That of the Abbot of Glastonbury.” - -Sir John and the governor looked at each other as if this information -corresponded with their expectations. - -“Wast thou not sometimes called ‘Hodge?’” - -“After the yeoman who found me, and became my foster father.” - -“How didst thou pass under the care of Sir Walter Trevannion?--men -of rank do not usually give the honour of their name to obscure -striplings.” - -“I was commended to him by my benefactor, the late Abbot.” - -“Thou wert, then, particularly dear to that trait----, I would say -Abbot?” said the governor, who throughout showed a desire to spare the -prisoner’s feelings, and was evidently discharging a painful task from -a sense of duty.[37] - -“I was dear to him,” said Cuthbert, “but so were all his children.” - -“But he trusted not all as he trusted thee?” - -“I am not a fair judge of that.” - -“He revealed his secrets to thee, I am told.” - -“He would hardly make a mere boy the depository of many secrets; I was -hardly fourteen at his martyrdom.” - -The officials all looked at each other as the last word was pronounced, -and the governor said mildly-- - -“‘Execution,’ thou would’st say, but we will not dispute the -subject,--dost thou remember the day when thou didst gain a silver -arrow at an archery contest?” - -“I gained more prizes than one.” - -“This was in the May of 1539, and Nicholas Grabber was thy competitor?” - -“Yes, I remember it.” - -“Well, in that same night the Abbot, as we are informed, gave thee the -honour of a private interview?” - -“He often did.” - -“But on this occasion, had he not a special object?” - -“He would not be likely otherwise to send for me--his time was -valuable.” - -“Thou evadest the question.” - -“I do not comprehend it.” - -“What was the _special_ object on this occasion?” - -Cuthbert felt that the point was reached at last. - -“I am not at liberty to disclose.” - -“That is the matter at issue between us, but we hope thou wilt not -drive us to extremities, as we would fain spare thee, compassionating -thy youth. In plain words, did he not disclose to thee the mystery of -a secret chamber, where many documents of importance to the King be -concealed, and much treasure of the Abbey hidden from the royal owner, -to whom the nation hath given the property of the monasteries.” - -“That is the very question I must decline to answer. If I know anything -it is not my secret, but one committed to me by the dead, under awful -sanctions.” - -“A good citizen knows no higher sanction than the welfare of his -country, and our religion bids us honour and obey the King.” - -“In all things lawful, but this is not lawful to me.” - -“I grieve over thee, poor youth,” said the governor, “and over the -measures I _must_ take; but the orders of council are explicit, are -they not, Sir John?” - -“They are, there is no alternative.” - -“Gaoler, draw back the curtains.” - -The curtains separated in the middle, and were drawn back to the -wall--the mystery of the arched recess was laid bare. - -There stood two brawny men, beside a brazier of glowing coals, wherein -were two pincers heated to a red heat; hard by was the rack, with its -cords and pulleys, ready for working; manacles and chains hung on the -wall; scourges and thumb-screws; there was the huge iron band, with a -hinge in the middle and a padlock in front, which was placed around -the bodies of wretches condemned to the stake; all the implements known -to the English torture chamber, happily so seldom used, were there; -_seldom_, we say, but comparatively _often_ in this reign of terror. - -This _coup d’oeil_ was intended to frighten, there was no intention -to bring the full resources of the chamber into very active use; the -thumb-screw alone they thought would be sufficient for a young beginner. - -“Thou seest thy fate--be wise in time. Believe me, my poor youth, thou -wilt not be able to endure what is in store for thee if thou continuest -in obstinacy; be wise, therefore, and yield with grace what thou canst -not retain, and our best efforts shall be used for thy free pardon -for all laid to thy charge, only remember we cannot allow a divided -allegiance in this realm--it were death to us; thou must obey the King, -or die the death; thou hast read the ancients:-- - - “‘Cuncta prius tentanda, sed immedicabile vulnus - Ense recidendum est, ne pars sincera trahatur.’”[38] - -“My lord,” said the poor lad, “I know I am weak, but I must do my best. -You will do your duty, and I will try to bear, which is mine.” - -“Apply the thumb-screw.” - -Cuthbert was told to place his thumbs together; resistance would have -been useless and unseemly, therefore he quietly complied, and the -horrid little instrument of torture was made to take them both at -once; the turning of a screw brought a sharp little bar across the -bones which compressed them until it seemed to burn the flesh like -fire, causing exquisite agony; the screw was secured by a lock, and a -chain attached to it might, if there were need, be used to attach the -prisoner to a staple in the wall, where he might be left until the -agony broke his spirit.[39] - -Huge drops of sweat stood on the sufferer’s brow. - -“Thou feelest a portion of what is due to thee if thou confessest not.” - -“In te Domine speravi,” breathed the poor prisoner. - -Minute after minute passed by, during which the struggle between bodily -pain and will continued. - -At last, Sir John looked at the governor and whispered. - -“Another turn!” said the latter, reluctantly. - -Another turn was given to the screw, and the prisoner fainted, his -sensitive frame could bear no more. - -They poured cold water over him, but it was long before he showed signs -of consciousness, and when he did so, the governor said to Sir John-- - -“It is useless, we can go no further to-day.” - -“But you will succeed _to-morrow_, the dread will be greater now he -knows what pain is, and he _will_ yield, I predict, when brought down -once more; we shall not need a fresh application of the torture.” - -“God grant it, for it is a pitiful sight, and I would sooner stand on -the field of battle; one feels a man there, and not a brute.” - -“Let the poor lad be taken to his cell and all kindness shewn him,” -added the governor. - -So the pleasant party broke up. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[36] Witness their Oubliettes, which the writer has seen, shaped like -a bottle, the only opening the neck, wherein, when torture had done -its worst and no more revelations were to be hoped of the criminal, -he was dropped, to perish of his injuries in unseen agony, in cold, -hunger, and filth. Witness, too, the recent discoveries at Baden -Baden--the statue of the Virgin, which the victim was told to kiss, -whereupon a concealed trap-door, on which he stood, fell, and dropped -him upon wheels set with revolving knives. Such refinements appal the -imagination, and constrain us to ask what manner of men invented such -atrocities? - -[37] Unless the reader can comprehend the intense way in which -obedience and loyalty to the King, right or wrong, swayed the people of -England in that day, he cannot comprehend the history of Bloody Harry, -and why he was permitted to work his will. The anarchy of the preceding -century, when the Wars of the Roses had drenched the country in blood, -and helped to foster the sentiment, and to make the throne the central -pillar of the edifice, the supposed bulwark of the nation. - -[38] - - All things should first be tried, but an incurable wound - Must with the sword be cut out, lest the sound part be affected. - - -[39] In John Knox’s house at Edinburgh the writer examined a similar -implement, as also at Sir Walter Scott’s house at Abbotsford. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -_AN UNEXPECTED DISCLOSURE._ - - -“Art thou Sir John Redfyrne?” enquired a man, who by his dress appeared -to be a parochial or parish priest, as that worthy knight left -Rougemont. - -“I am, what dost thou seek of me? I have little to do with cattle of -thy breed.” - -“An aged woman,” replied the priest, not noticing the taunt, “is dying -in a suburb of the city, and cannot pass in peace till she hath seen -thee.” - -“What does it matter to me whether the old crone dies in peace or not?” - -“Verily thou art a hard-hearted man, but wilt thou look upon this -signet?--she had confidence in its power to bring thee to her bed-side.” - -It was only his own crest upon a sapphire that he gazed upon, yet his -heart gave a leap, and in spite of his self-command his blood flushed -up, his face was crimson, and he evidently had to strive hard for -mastery over himself. - -“Sir priest,” he said, “I am not well, and am subject to spasms of the -heart, which will account for my seeming discomposure; lead me to her, -I recognise the token.” - -The priest led on, and Sir John followed. Traversing Fore Street they -approached the West Gate, which opened upon the bridge over the Exe. -But here the priest turned to the left down a steep descent, into the -purlieus of St. Mary of the Steppes.[40] - -The district was crowded then, as now, by the habitations of the lower -classes, and was probably even more unsavoury than it is at present, -for there was no drainage save that effected by the showers, which -flushed the gutters. - -Such a shower had even now fallen when the priest entered a court -between ricketty houses, once of some pretensions, but now tottering in -ruin; it was crowded with squalid children, stopping up the gutters as -they carried down the filth and refuse, and sailing little boats, or -making mud pies. - -Amidst rags and wretchedness, the worthy guide led on; he was amidst -his own flock; they were not a decent set, but they all respected him, -and perhaps without his protection, the gay gentleman would not have -gone on his way so unmolested. - -“Where art thou taking me to? I knew not such dens existed,” said the -knight. - -“There are many worse; known perhaps only to the physician and the -priest, now that ye have suppressed the sisterhoods; least of all to -the constables, who dare not come hither save in troops; here the -plague lies hidden in the winter, to burst out again each summer; here -want, crime, disease, and vice fester together; here the fruit for the -gallows is nourished; these be the orchards of the Father of Evil, -where he grows of his own will many such apples as tempted Eve.” - -“And is _she_ here?” He did not mean Eve. - -“Even so.” - -“What brought her so low? she has long hidden from me.” - -“A guilty secret, perchance.” - -Sir John asked no more, and they entered the gateway of a house at the -end of the court, which had once been a fair dwelling, but now the door -hung by one hinge, and the windows were battered out. They entered the -hall; tattered hangings drooped in fragments from the walls, beetles -and spiders had their home amidst the rotten wainscotting, woodlice -swarmed in the bannisters of the ancient staircase, the balustrade was -partly broken away, the stairs were rotten. - -“And is _she_ here?” said Sir John again. - -“Even so,” was the reply; “tread carefully, the staircase will bear -thee in places only.” - -The ceiling, which had been moulded in patterns, had fallen away, and -hideous joists and beams were disclosed as they ascended. - -Then they heard a faint moan of pain, and a voice said, “Dying, dying, -left all alone to die; Mother of Mercy, aid a sinful child of Eve.” - -“Peace, daughter, I bring him thou seekest.” - -The being whom he called “daughter” was an aged crone who had seen some -seventy summers, and was now fast dying of decay; pains in all her -joints, weakness in all her senses, toothless, wrinkled, blear-eyed, -yet with the remains of a beauty long past, in the high outlines of her -features. - -Sir John gazed upon her. - -“Art thou Madge of Luckland?” he said. - -“Thou knowest me by the signet; it has more power to convince thee than -this face; go, good Father Christopher, go,” she said to the priest, -“and when I have said that which must be said to this good knight, ha! -ha! I will finish my shrift to thee.” - -“Shall I bid any of the neighbours come to thee when he is gone?” - -“He will summon them; I would not be long alone in this haunted house; -there be ghosts I tell thee; there be awful figures with faces that -wither the eyeballs and blanch the hair, which troop about these halls -of the forgotten dead; but it is daylight now, and I fear them not.” - -“Madge,” said the priest, “thou wilt soon be as one of those ghosts -thyself: thy poor tabernacle of clay is falling fast into ruins like a -child’s house of cards, which a touch overturns; soon they will carry -thee to the charnel house, and direly will thy poor soul burn in its -purgatory, or haunt, if permitted, these scenes of forgotten crime, -unless thou dost repent and make atonement.” - -“Father, I _will_; am I not on the point of doing so? go, leave me with -this good knight: why, he was once my foster son.” - -“And has he left thee to _want_, like this? My son, God deal with -thee as thou dost deal justly by her; she has little time yet wherein -thou mayst make amends for the past to one, who, if she speaks truth, -suckled thee at her breast.” - -The priest departed, and Sir John sank into a crazy chair by the couch -of the old woman. - -A faded coverlet was upon it, whereon was wrought the history of Cain -and Abel; there were four posts supporting a canopy, but one post -drooped, and the whole threatened to come down together. - -“Speak, mother, why hast thou sent for me at last? or why didst thou -not send before?” - -“I would not have sent for thee now, but if I did not, a damning crime -would stain thy soul and mine; _mine_, because I alone can reveal to -thee its nature; _thine_, because thy sin led the way to it.” - -“_My_ sin, woman! gain is righteousness, loss is sin, I know no other -description for either: I believe not as priestlings prate, nor didst -thou once, although, like other unbelievers, we held our tongue for -fear of Mother Church with her discipline of fire and faggot, for if we -had said that we believed not in hell hereafter, she would have created -one for us here.” - -“Enough, hadst thou seen what I have seen, thou wouldst know there is -a God and a terrible one, and that the worst flames Churchmen kindle -here for heretics are no more in comparison with those which await the -unforgiven sinner, than painted flames compare with those which wither -up the unbeliever or witch in Smithfield.” - -“I came not here to hear a sermon, Madge; what further crime hast thou -to warn me against? I would not commit _useless_ ones.” - -“Dost thou remember when thy brother’s widow bare a poor babe, who -never saw its father’s face?” - -“I do, as thou knowest, too well; it was a great disappointment to me.” - -“And while the mother slept in insensibility, thou didst bid me -stifle the child, and say it was still-born, because thou wast as thy -brother’s heir in possession of the property?” - -“Why repeat this idle tale, it is all over and gone? Art thou alone? -art thou sure there is none here?” - -“Sure, yes, quite sure; none at least clothed in flesh and blood like -ourselves, but how many unseen beings hover around us I know not.” - -Sir John could not help trembling, there was such a ghastly realism in -her words, and the fast decaying light made him long to leave the place. - -“Well, thou didst it for love of thy foster son, and thou hast been -fool enough to confess it to this meddling priest?” - -“Not yet, I waited to see thee first, and tell thee what I _really_ -did.” - -“_Really_ did? didst thou not murder the babe?” - -“Nay, I substituted a beggar’s dead brat from a gipsy camp, hard by, -for thy brother’s heir, and showed thee its body, and thou didst -blanch, but yet nerve thy coward soul to say ‘well done;’ meanwhile I -hid the young heir, and when thou wert gone to court I restored the -babe to the mother, bidding her flee the castle with it ere thou didst -return.” - -“Can this be true? How wilt thou prove it now?” - -“Listen; a month later, when the poor dame was well again, came a -letter to bid us prepare for that return; I did not dare to let thee -find the child alive, and bade the mother flee. It was the third day -after Christmas, the Holy Innocents’ day: to whose intercession she -commended her babe.” - -“And she fled?” - -“All alone she sought the sanctuary of S. Joseph at Glastonbury; there -she purposed to remain, dreading thy power, until she could appeal to -justice, for all in the castle, like me, were thy minions; she fled: a -wild night of wind and snow followed, and she died on the road.” - -“With the child?” said Sir John. - -“No, I learned all about _its_ fate. The child was rescued by a yeoman -named Hodge, and nurtured by the good Abbot of Glastonbury, and if the -priest, Christopher, tells me truth, thou art about to compass his -death now. Oh repent, Sir John, repent while there is yet time, for the -sake of thy soul and mine; for I have sinfully concealed this secret, -dreading thy anger, thine, my foster son, and I have hidden it from -thee: yet my hands are pure from blood, although my guilty complicity -exposed the mother to death in the snow, and the babe to the chances of -the night; although I have aided thee to grasp an inheritance which is -not thine, and which is dragging thee and me alike into hell: repent -at once, and my poor soul may depart in peace; _save_ the boy, thy -nephew.” - -“Art thou sure none can overhear us? Art thou alone in this house?” - -“Alone with the dead.” - -“And that thou hast confessed the truth to none?” - -“Not as yet.” - -“And never shall. Die then the death thou didst spare the brat.” - -Hard by stood a ewer filled with water, and over it a towel; he dipped -this towel in the water, and suddenly clapped it upon her mouth, then -he thrust a pillow upon her face, towel and all, and threw himself upon -it, keeping it down until the poor suffering body ceased to throb, when -he removed the pillow, and composed the features as well as he could, -smoothed the coverlet, and left the room. - -It was growing dark. - -A shudder passed over him all at once, as he descended the stairs. - -At the foot of the stairs stood revealed to his sight--or to his -guilty imagination--a misty form surmounted by a face which expressed -such unutterable anguish, that even the iron nerves of the murderer -threatened to give way. - -He made a violent effort, composed himself, and rushed _through_ the -apparition; he gained the outer air, and felt a dead faint gain upon -him, he sank upon the step, and knew nought till he was aroused by a -voice. - -“How is the old girl upstairs?” - -“She passed away in a fit whilst I was with her.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[40] As I write an ancient map of Exeter is before me confirming this -description. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -_CASTLE REDFYRNE._ - - -It is necessary, for the fuller elucidation of our veracious narrative, -that the reader should here be made acquainted with the earlier history -of the Redfyrne family. - -About twenty miles, or a little more, to the south-east of Glastonbury, -over the Dorsetshire border, and not far from Sturminster, stood, three -centuries ago, an old and mouldering castle, built in the days of the -Barons’ wars. - -It was surrounded by a wide moat, fed from the river Stour, which -rolled its deep and sluggish flood in mazy windings through the ancient -park, which, rich with hoary oak and mossy beech, surrounded the castle. - -A part of the massive buildings had been adapted to the ideas of the -sixteenth century, and fashioned so as to form a convenient dwelling -for the family, while the Keep and other portions were left to decay. -It formed a picturesque group, the modern dwelling, with its airy -windows and open aspect, contrasting the venerable towers, which -suggested dungeons, as deep as the walls were high; wherein the -captives of past generations once wept, and “appealed from tyranny to -God.” - -Here, in the early days of “Bluff King Hal,” dwelt the good knight Sir -Geoffrey Redfyrne, with his lady and their four children. - -The eldest boy, Geoffrey, was the darling of his father’s heart, frank -and generous, full of chivalrous courage, affectionate, and gifted -with the power of winning affection. The younger boy, John, differed -greatly--he was morose and selfish in disposition, vindictive and -passionate; his only good quality the courage which was hereditary in -his family. - -As a natural consequence, the father’s preference for Geoffrey was -almost too manifest, for it increased the secret hatred the younger -brother, younger by a year only, bore to his elder, whom he continually -crossed in a variety of ways--maiming his pet animals, leading him -into scrapes and then betraying him, yet cunningly keeping his hand -concealed when he was able. - -They had of course many quarrels, but the elder was always as ready to -forgive, as the younger to resent. - -Of the sisters we shall not speak, further than to say that they were -often peace-makers between their brothers, and that John was many a -time forgiven at their intercession. - -It was on the whole a happy family, and had the parents lived, the -faults of the younger son might, under their judicious training, have -been corrected. But into this unfortunate household came a deadly -visitor--the plague. - -It was conveyed into the village by a bale of cloth, consigned to a -tailor, from abroad--the tailor’s family sickened, and all died; then -those who out of Christian charity had attended them to render good -offices in their last distress, sickened also, and infected their own -households; from house to house the dreadful malady spread; the parish -priest died, the physicians (leeches they called them) died; and, at -last, the awful scourge reached the hall--for Sir Geoffrey could not -keep away from his sick tenantry. - -Death knocks with equal foot at the palaces of kings and the huts -of the poor, the plague was no respecter of persons; the good and -charitable knight carried the infection home, and ere three days had -passed both he and his faithful wife were gone; she watched by him and -nursed him till he died, and then falling sick at once, followed him to -a better world. - -Geoffrey and the two daughters were taken ill next; the boy recovered, -the sisters died; the only member of the family who escaped -altogether was John, owing perhaps to some physical peculiarity in his -constitution, which enabled him to withstand the infection. - -Not far from the castle, down the stream, stood Luckland Mill; a -father, mother, six children, and an aged grandam, all lived there; -but death came, and all died. The water splashed and foamed down the -mill-course, the merry wheel ran on, while there were eight corpses -in that house which none dared to bury. But the difficulty was -solved,--the mill having ground out its corn, ran on, and as there was -no one to stop it, caught fire at last from friction of the machinery, -and was burnt to the ground, so the dead were “cremated” not buried. - -We said _eight_ bodies, for one child, the eldest daughter, named -Madge, escaped the fate of her family, being on a visit to some distant -relations, when the plague broke out.[41] - -At length the pestilence abated, and the sorrow-stricken survivors, -but a third of the former population, might estimate their losses, and -gaze upon the vacant chairs in their dwellings, wishing often, in the -desolation of their hearts, that they had been taken too. - -A distant relation became guardian to the two boys at the castle; both -of whom were sent to Glastonbury for their education, where John was -always in trouble, and Geoffrey in favour. - -Richard Whiting was then one of the younger brethren, and one of -the tutors of the boys, and it befel more than once that John fell -under his just correction, and tasted the rod, an infliction he never -forgave. It is needless to say that Geoffrey was a general favourite. - -They left school in due time, and arrived at manhood. Geoffrey made one -campaign in the French wars, which had a singular result: he was taken -captive, and captivated the daughter of his captor; so that on the -conclusion of peace, she returned with him to England as Lady Redfyrne. - -John remained at home to attend to the estate in his brother’s -absence--he did not care for the military life, being too idle; and he -was fast sinking into the bachelor brother, who keeps the accounts, -looks after the hounds, and makes himself useful in a hundred odd ways, -but who feels his own position less comfortable as time moves on and a -young family arises, not his own, superseding him. - -But all the time, his darker disposition was only suppressed; it was -his intention to be lord of the manor, if by any means (and he was not -scrupulous as to what means) he might grasp his brother’s inheritance; -a younger brother’s portion he despised or gambled away. - -“Sui profusus, alieni appietens,”[42] as Sallust wrote of Catiline. - -The occasion came; just before his wife’s confinement, poor Geoffrey, -to the grief of all who knew him, died after a brief illness. He came -home from hunting, wet through, and confiding in the strength of his -constitution, omitted, as he often had before, to change his garments; -he caught a severe cold, pleurisy set in, and, for the want of such -remedies as in the hands of modern science might have saved him, he -died. - -We are now coming to that portion of our narrative already revealed by -Madge of Luckland, for that aged crone was indeed the survivor of the -family at the mill. - -After his brother’s death, Sir John claimed the estate, as of right, -and imagined himself the lawful lord of the manor, when he was informed -that, as he had already dreaded, there were hopes of a direct heir. - -For a brief time he wrestled with the devil; hard as he was he could -not forget the pleading tone of his dying brother,-- - -“John, dear John, take care of Catharine, and should there be a boy, be -a father to him for my sake; when we meet again in another world, thou -shalt tell me thou hast discharged the trust: God deal with thee, as -thou dealest with her.” - -When it became certain that the widow was near her confinement, Sir -John had an interview with Madge of Luckland, over whom he had acquired -an evil influence: the reader is aware how he used it, and what crime -he urged her to commit. But unfortunately for his fell purpose, Madge, -in her capacity of nurse, had conceived a strong affection for the -sweet helpless lady, with her broken English, and pretty ways. In -short, she was true to her better nature, and false to her patron. - -After Sir John had gazed for one brief moment at the dead babe, -whose identity he doubted not, he departed from the castle on urgent -business; the deed was done, and he was glad to go, for he trembled -while he repented not. - -He was absent a whole month, during which he was busily engaged in -pushing his fortune at court, where he had been previously presented: -it was at this period he made the acquaintance of Thomas Cromwell, then -Secretary to Wolsey. - -At length the time arrived for his return for the first time as lord of -the manor, and an avant courier arrived at Castle Redfyrne to announce -his approaching arrival. - -It was then that Madge, fearful of the consequences, should she be -unable to conceal the existence of the babe,--who was meanwhile nursed -by a gipsy mother,--advised Catharine Redfyrne to fly to the shrine of -S. Joseph at Glastonbury, assuring her that the good old Abbot would -recollect her husband and protect his child. - -It was arranged that she should leave the castle in the darkest hour, -before the dawn of the winter’s day; for the new servants were devoted -to their lord’s interests, and might not allow her to depart. Madge -enquired whether the lady could ride, as she would undertake herself to -procure a steed. - -Catharine asserted that she was a good horse-woman, and had no fear -of the journey; also that she knew the country, having been to -Glastonbury with her lord. The weather was frosty, and there was no -sign of any change for the worse; the weather prophets, as upon a later -occasion,[43] gave no intimation of an approaching storm. - -Before dawn on Holy Innocents’ Day, Madge awoke the young widow; -together they left the castle while the whole household was asleep. -They crossed the star-lit park to the Luckland Mill, now rebuilt, where -Madge had procured the horse. They found it awaiting them, and the -gipsy was there, by appointment, with the babe. One other person alone -was in the secret, the miller. - -They parted with many tears, and never met in this world again. Poor -Madge, her life had been stained by sin; let this act of Christian -charity plead her forgiveness. - -On her way back to the castle, Madge was struck by the wondrous but -ominous beauty of the dawn, first a streak of pale blue, which then -seemed upheaved by sheets of crimson fire; the eye was almost dazzled -by the brilliancy of the deepening blaze, as if the eastern heavens -were in conflagration. - -“A red sky at night is the shepherds’ delight, but a red sky in the -morning is the shepherds’ warning,” muttered Madge, fearing there would -be bad weather. - -It was one of those lovely winter days when the blue sky and fleecy -clouds and the brilliant atmosphere are more delightful than in summer, -but towards evening the wind set in steadily from the east, the heavens -assumed a dull leaden hue, and just before sunset, down came the first -flakes of snow. - -Thicker flakes! thicker! thicker! the night darker; the snow deeper, -each hour. - -The reader knows the rest, if he has read the prologue to our tale. The -horse must have refused to proceed, nor was he ever found, he must have -perished in the snow; but the miller did not dare to make enquiries for -fear of exciting suspicion. It was lucky that the same snow procured a -brief respite for Madge, for Sir John could not get home for more than -a week, and when he came was met by the intelligence that the mother -had fled, as it was supposed, in a fit of mental derangement, caused by -grief over the loss of her infant; and that she had perished, as they -thought, in the snow. - -But how she had perished, and where, was never known to Sir John; Madge -persuaded him that she had strayed into the river, but no body was ever -found when the thaw, after some weeks of intense frost, permitted a -search; the miller kept his secret, and Sir John was content to leave -the matter in mystery, and to reap the benefit. - -But he never afterwards liked the presence of Madge, his supposed -confederate, and he sent her from the neighbourhood, so that he lost -sight of her for twenty years. - -How they met at last the reader has learned. - -Sir John, hardened as he was, could not for a time shake off the -remembrance of his brother’s last words; often in sleep that brother -seemed to stand by him. “I bade thee guard my poor wife and child, how -hast thou kept thy trust?” He remembered the mournful way in which -Geoffrey, when they were little children, had reproached him for the -death of a pet which he had maliciously caused, and the boy and man -were mingled in his dreams. - -Should he ever have to bear the reproach in another world! - -He shook the thought off--parried it with the shield of unbelief. - -How like the poor ostrich, who hides his head in the sand, and thinks, -because it cannot see its pursuers, it is itself unseen! - -But still he frequented Church, went regularly each Sunday to Mass, -and each year to Confession; indeed it would have been dangerous to do -otherwise, or to confess his unbelief, as he avowed to Madge on her -death-bed. - -By-and-bye Cromwell began to organize that terrible system of -espionage, which filled the scaffolds with victims. Dorset was -unrepresented in the prying brotherhood; he thought of his old friend, -Sir John, in whom he had discovered a kindred spirit when both served -Wolsey, and offered him the post. Sir John eagerly accepted the -confidence, and began at once to exercise his office, to watch his -neighbours, to entrap them in unguarded conversations, and so to -denounce them if he found the opportunity, and all the time he was -unsuspected, or even Cromwell could hardly have saved him from the just -fury of his countrymen. - -And in this capacity he had no small share in the tragedy at -Glastonbury; he hated the Abbot as we have seen, and willingly employed -all his craft in bringing his old tutor to the gibbet and quartering -block, and when the victim suffered he was there, on the Tor Hill, and -revelled in the ghastly butchery of the man who had once striven to -check his opening vices. - -When the fall of his patron, Cromwell, took place, Sir John was for the -time in imminent danger, but he extricated himself by a master stroke: -he attended in his place, as knight of the shire, and voted for cutting -off his friend’s head without a trial, by process of Bill of Attainder; -thus by this skilful trimming of his sails he escaped the storm; but -the idea was not original, Archbishop Cranmer did the same.[44] - -He had for a near neighbour Squire Grabber, and had often admired the -evil qualities of young Nicholas, from whom, in the exercise of his -vocation, he had gained many valuable pieces of information, which he -had duly conveyed to Cromwell. - -When the Martyrdom on the Tor Hill was accomplished, and the Abbey -suppressed, Sir John proposed to his neighbour to let young Nick begin -the business of life (as was then customary even amongst the sons of -gentlefolk) as his page, not, be it understood, in any menial sense of -the word. - -The squire consented, and the reader knows the consequences, so far as -we have yet had space to unfold them. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[41] These details were gathered from some melancholy pages in an old -parish register, which the writer once perused, when staying in the -neighbourhood. Under this terrible visitation the proportion of deaths -was sometimes far larger than that given in the text. - -[42] Craving another’s, wasteful of his own. - -[43] The great snow storm of January, 1881, was entirely -“unforecasted,” if the writer remembers aright. - -[44] The process of Bill of Attainder was invented by Cromwell himself, -and he was, by a wondrous nemesis the first to fall by it. Cranmer -voted on the second and third readings for the death of his friend--his -presence is noted in the journal of the house, and the Bill was carried -“nemine discrepante.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -_LED FORTH TO DIE._ - - -The dusky shades of night fell upon the ancient Castle of Rougemont, -the feudal pile of the proud Norman, and deepened the gloom of its -dungeons; and in particular of that one, wherein poor Cuthbert was -pining in silence and solitude. - -For his spirit seemed broken; those three days of absolute silence, -followed by the torture, the anticipation of further suffering in that -dismal chamber underground, and of the shame of a traitor’s death -beyond; all these combined to crush his soul in the dust; poor youth, -bred up by kind and loving hearts; spared hardships and sorrow for so -many bright years, how had the scene changed before him! - -And again, he could not help feeling some little doubt concerning the -cause for which he bore all this suffering; his faith in it had been -the transplanted faith of others; he knew that the majority of his -countrymen held with the King, while they were yet staunch Catholics -in every other point; papal supremacy had never been a matter of faith -with the bulk of the English people, and might not the majority be -right after all? in which case he was madly throwing away all the joys -of his opening manhood, for a cause which had not the approbation of -heaven. - -Against these thoughts fought the remembrance of the last Abbot of -Glastonbury, and the present strong feeling of allegiance, which he -felt to his protector, Sir Walter Trevannion; but there was a struggle, -which he felt ashamed to acknowledge even to himself. - -Sometimes the sounds of the revelry of the youth of the city, engaged -in their sports, found their way in through the grated window, and -mocked the poor heart-sick captive; he strove to find refuge in prayer, -but prayer fled him, his mind wandered. “No, I cannot pray,” he said, -“the very saints forsake me now.” - -Who knows what might have been the consequence of those hours of pain -and loneliness, had they been prolonged? but suddenly the door opened. - -Cuthbert scarcely looked up, thinking it was but the gaoler bringing -him food, when he heard a voice, a well-known one. - -“My son, my dear son.” - -It was Father Ambrose, alias Sir Walter, and Cuthbert jumped up, and -threw himself into his arms with a self-abandonment which shewed how -far his feelings had been strained by their separation. - -“My father, my more than father,” he cried. - -“We are to be together till the end,” said Sir Walter, after a few -moments of silence, during which they had grasped each other’s hands. - -“To whom do we owe this mercy; to the governor? he seemed to feel for -us.” - -“No, he could not have ventured to oppose Sir John Redfyrne, who was -armed with the authority of the Privy Council.” - -Cuthbert flushed up at the sound of the hated name. - -“_He_ has no hand in this indulgence.” - -“Indeed he has, my dear son, whatever his motives may be; he may repent -of his ingratitude.” - -Cuthbert shook his head. - -“Let us not think of him; he comes between us and our God, if we would -be forgiven we must needs forgive; God has forgiven us the ten thousand -talents for His dear Son’s sake, shall we not forgive the hundred -pence?” - -“My father, I am so glad, so glad you are here, my faith was failing -me.” - -“In what?” - -“In the justice of our cause; why do we stand almost alone, against -the great majority of our countrymen?” - -“Would’st thou have been with the majority or minority at the Flood? at -Sodom? in guilty Jerusalem? Dear boy, majorities are nothing; indeed -too often they but mark the broad way which leadeth to destruction; nor -have they even the _majority_ on their side, miserable as the support -drawn from thence would be; for England stands alone amongst the -Christian commonwealths in her present schism.[45] - -“Then, again, my dear boy, remember the words of your beloved -benefactor, when he stood before his judges at Wells; and again in that -hour when he parted from you with words of blessing, in the gatehouse -chamber at Glastonbury; methinks it would pain his blessed spirit, -even in Paradise, to hear that his adopted son, whom he loved so well, -doubted.” - -The good father was using the very best means which could be used to -keep his _protegé_ firm in the path, which he believed the only road -to heaven; argument might have failed to convince where faith was -shaken, but the love of one who had died so nobly and patiently for the -impugned tenet, carrying his mute appeal to the judgment seat on high, -lit again the expiring embers of faith--“I will be true to him till -death,” he said; “as _he_ died so will I die; and will stake soul and -body on the creed which trained so noble a martyr, ‘sit anima mea cum -illo.’” - -“Methinks,” said the good Prior, “I see him looking down upon thee now; -see through these thick walls, and this murky autumnal sky, to the -heaven beyond where he sits waiting, near the gate, for his adopted -son, whom he committed to my care! Well! when I see him, I shall say -‘Behold father, here am I, and the lad whom thou gavest me.’” - -Cuthbert wept upon the shoulder of the good Prior. - -“He shall not be deceived in me; I will tread the path he trod.” - -“By God’s grace, which alone can strengthen us weak ones; and what is -the worst we have to bear--the gibbet and quartering block? Well, they -cannot protract it more than half-an-hour; half-an-hour! why had it -begun when I entered this cell, it had been over now, and we safe on -the other side.” - -“Would it had.” - -“Yes, and then heaven had already been revealed to our enraptured -sight, our eyes would have seen the King in His beauty and the land -which is very far off.” - -“Where is that land, that glory land?” - -“Eye hath not seen, nor ear drunk in its sweet songs of joy; words -cannot picture it, nor can the heart of man conceive its bliss, but it -lies beyond the gibbet and quartering block, my son; let them do their -worst, they know not what they do, and we will pray for them till the -last, yes and for King Harry too; God turn his heart, and shew him his -sin, and all will be well in dear old England again.” - - * * * * * - -But the reader is doubtless eager to learn what had taken place to -frustrate, as it would seem at first sight, the plans of Sir John -Redfyrne. - -Perhaps they had not been _frustrated_, but changed. - -That same evening he had informed the governor that he had received a -messenger from court to inform him, that the secret chamber was already -discovered, and that there was therefore no further occasion, either -to put Cuthbert to the torture again, or delay the execution. “Let the -criminals have the consolation of each other’s society to-night, and -die to-morrow,” he added. - -Much surprised, the governor pleaded hard for time to lay the whole -case again before the Crown, and to implore mercy for the prisoners, -whose execution he said “would shock all Devon.” - -But Sir John was armed with full authority from the Crown, and hinting -to the governor, that the King would not be best pleased to hear of -his backwardness in the royal cause, and his love for traitors, so -frightened that worthy functionary on his own account, that no further -opposition was made, and orders were given to erect the scaffold. - -Meanwhile every indulgence was given to the prisoners, whose fate many -pitied--even in that stony-hearted gaol, the Castle of Rougemont. -A priest was admitted to their cells, that very priest who had so -nearly stumbled upon the secret of Cuthbert’s birth, and early in the -morning he provided all that was necessary for the celebration of Mass, -whereat Father Ambrose, for the last time as he supposed, with tears -of devotion, officiated; and the three received the Holy Communion -together. - -Fortified by this heavenly food, they scarcely noticed the heavy boom -of the cathedral bell, which told the city and the country around that -two souls were about to be forcibly divorced from their bodies, and -sent to appear before the judgment seat on High. - -Boom! boom! The deep solemn sound penetrated each court and alley -of the ancient city, and struck awe to the hearts even of the most -hardened; boom! boom! the swelling tones startled the boatmen on the -Exe, awoke the echoes of the hills around the fair city of the west, -nay reached the rich purple moorland, and startled the children who -played amongst the heather or gathered whortle-berries. - -And beneath the two grand old towers in front of the great west door of -the historical fane, was erected that disgrace to the civilization of -our forefathers, the scaffold with its gibbet and quartering block, its -hideous butchering apparatus, in the very cathedral yard. - -What a multitude had now assembled! men, women, boys, girls; the noble -and the simple, the burgher and the vagrant; there were many stalwart -country men too from Dartmoor, each wearing a sprig of heather in his -hat, that his companions might recognise him. - -“_Here they come!_” - -The bell booms out faster and faster, the multitude stretch their -necks to gaze and catch the first glimpse of the sufferers. Oh, what a -strange, morbid interest clings to those about to die; the very fact -that that body framed by God as His noblest work, and sanctified by -being limb for limb the same as the Incarnate Son took as His own, the -very fact that that body is to be so ruthlessly desecrated, causes -this awful excitement, this panting, breathless interest, in the poor -victims. - -Forward they come, between two lines of halberdiers; how calm and -resigned they look as they approach the scaffold. The litany of -the dying with its perpetual response--_Ora pro eis_ (pray for -them)--addressed in turn to each saint and angel of the calendar, -is now audible. The multitude catch up the strain and join in the -response; now it is _Miserere Domine_, now again _Ora pro eis_; but -it is no longer one feeble voice, but the breath of a multitude which -bears the sweet sad refrain to heaven. - -They are close to the fatal spot, and first the youth, then the old -man ascends the steps, clad in white, for such was their choice, -in testimony of their innocence of all crime before men. The fair -attractive face of the younger sufferer, so sad, yet resigned, that it -seems of itself a petition for pity, the reverend face of the senior, -like to that of some holy patriarch or prophet, so soon too to be -dabbled in blood and stuck up on rusty nails over the Guild hall in -the High Street; truly this is piteous, and the gentler portion of the -spectators can hardly forbear weeping as they still cry _Miserere_ or -_Ora pro eis_, while the _cannibals_ who are there smack their lips at -the dainty sight prepared for them. - -They are on the scaffold, and the bell still booms as it shall boom -until the victims swing between heaven and earth--a mockery of God and -man. The priest of S. Mary Steppes has given his parting Benediction. -The younger, to whom is given the privilege of dying first, has already -meekly turned to the executioner--a brute with a masked face, clad in -light leather, with two similarly dressed assistants, when---- - -A tremendous shout-- - -“Dartmoor to the rescue!” - -And the whole body of men with the sprigs of heather in their hats, -clear all the incumbrances, carrying off their feet the few halberdiers -at a rush, and are on the scaffold: they kick the executioners off -their own boards, upset the governor and the sheriff, but do not hurt -them, cut the prisoners’ bonds, pass them from hand to hand, and before -anyone can prevent, they, the two, are lost to sight in the vast and -sympathizing crowd. - -Then the multitude spy Sir John Redfyrne sitting upon a horse in the -cathedral yard, ready to start to town when all is over; the story -of his ingratitude is known, and they manifest a playful desire to -duck him in the Exe; and it is only with the greatest difficulty that -setting spurs to his steed, and riding over one unlucky old dame in his -path, he escapes their pressing attentions, and rides away with the -cry ringing in his ears, the unwelcome cry, “Dartmoor to the rescue!” -“Saved, saved!” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[45] The reader will perceive that there is something contradictory in -these pious expressions; first he seems to think it dangerous to be -with the majority, then he claims it as on his side. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -_BREATHING TIME._ - - -When our youthful hero, so suddenly rescued from a bloody death, -regained the full consciousness, of which the shock seemed to have -deprived him for a time, he felt like one in a dream, such a dream -as enables a prisoner to escape from the slime and darkness of a -subterranean dungeon, to the happiness and joy of the domestic hearth, -or of boundless liberty in verdant woods, breezy groves, or sun-lit -hill-tops. - -Was he in Paradise? The words he had often sung in choir came into his -mind,-- - - “In loco pascuæ ibi me collocavit, - Et super aquam refectionis educavit me.”[46] - -Had the gibbet and quartering block been endured and left behind, was -he in the spirit while the mutilated and desecrated members of his -mortal body rotted on the gates of Exeter? - -But as he regained fuller consciousness, he became aware of -circumstances not resembling those which are commonly supposed to be -the portion of the Blessed in Paradise--such as a comfortable down bed, -richly embroidered curtains around him, Flemish tapestry on the walls -of his chamber, and a bright autumnal sun pouring in between the window -curtains. - -He strove to rise, although he felt very weak; still curiosity overcame -weakness, and he staggered, like one giddy, to the casement, and -parting the curtains looked out. - -It was early morn; a glorious bracing October morning,--such October -mornings as they have in Devon,--and a scene of wondrous beauty lay -before him, but all of this earth. - -Immediately below lay a well-tended garden, with winding paths, -terraces, flowers of varied hue, shrubs, and ornamental trees cut in -strange fashions, and beyond lay a ruinous wall, through gaps in which -he could see a deep hollow, which once had been a dyke or moat, in days -when it was not safe to dwell beyond the shelter of such defences. But -with all the bloody tyranny of the latter time it must be said that the -strong hand of the government had given a sense of security, unknown -before, from all violence save legalized wrong,[47] and _that_ no -defence of moat or wall could avert. - -Beyond the garden the ground sloped down to the valley of the Exe; far -away, on the left hand, lay the mighty ocean, in its deep repose, blue -as the azure vault above it, the whole coast from the mouth of the -Exe to Berry Head, beyond Torbay, was visible; with the line of ruddy -cliffs, stretching out into headlands, and receding into bays: while, -here and there, a rocky island remained, to show where a promontory had -once extended ere the waters broke the connection with the mainland. - -But straight across the lovely valley, rich in its autumnal livery of -purple and gold, arose first the range of Halden, and glistening under -the glorious sun and in the clear blue of heaven beyond, looking almost -ethereal in the hues of distance, the rocks of Hey Tor and the cairn of -Rippon Tor surmounted the nearer heights. - -Beneath those mountains lay the happy home of the last six years; Hey -Tor looked over Ashburton, and perhaps Isabel Grey was even now gazing -at those same rocks. Oh, how the freed spirit laughed at distance: -the sluggish body might be chained but the mind had flown across the -valley of the Exe, over the ridge of Halden, and was there in the old -familiar scenes hearing the sweet youthful voice, beholding the beloved -features, wandering with the loved one around the enchanted borders of -the moorland. - -The reader who is versed in the topography of Devon will see that the -home in which Cuthbert has found refuge, is situated on that lovely -ridge of the heath, which rises about three miles from the eastern -bank of the estuary of the Exe, of which Woodbury Castle is the most -prominent point. - -But he will wonder how he came there. - -Listen! a step approaches, the door opens, and a familiar form enters -the room. - -“What, Cuthbert at the window! God bless thee, my boy, thou art better -then--, this _is_ a sight for sore eyes.” - -“Have I been ill, father?” - -“Thy nurse has but now left the chamber to get her breakfast, and I -came in to take her place, in case thou shouldst awake with recovered -consciousness and wonder where thou art.” - -“And where am I?” - -“Not in Rougemont.” - -“I see that, but where?” - -“Amongst true friends; this is the mansion of Sir Robert Tremayne, an -old friend of our house, to whom we are much indebted.” - -“But have I been dreaming? I thought we were led to the scaffold -together, that I heard the cathedral bell, the death bell toll for us, -and the litany for the dying yet sounds in my ears; then came a scene -of tumult and fury, cries of “rescue,” and we seemed to be passed from -hand to hand, until at last we passed through a gate or low door into -some house on the cathedral yard.” - -“It was no dream, my son, our period was indeed near its -accomplishment, and, but for the efforts, heroic, but perhaps mistaken, -we had been two days (did they number there by days) in Paradise; but -it is plain God has work for thee to do on earth; for me I care not -how soon I awake to a fairer scene than this; I had hoped the martyr’s -death had been our purgatory, and that we had gained the shore.” - -“But this scene is very fair,” said the youth, “bright sun, beautiful -vale, lovely sea, grand moorland hills; loth should I be to leave it -too soon, for this is God’s world too, is it not, father?” - -“Thou art young, dear son.” - -“Tell me all, have I been ill long?” - -“This is the third day since the rescue.” - -“How came it about?” - -“Public opinion made it _possible_ for a few score of men to do the -work of hundreds; the mob alone, if hostile, might have hindered, nay -prevented our escape, but many who dared not assist actively, did so -passively, and closing together covered our retreat, until we found -temporary concealment in the house of a friend to the cause, who had a -passage leading from his shop in High Street into the cathedral yard. -But ere we had been there long, thou didst faint, and we had much ado -to restore thee to life.” - -“How weak I must be!” - -“Nay, my child, consider the torture chamber of which thy poor hands -bear sufficient evidence, and the terrible strain of the approaching -cruel death, of which we bore all the anticipation. Well, at midnight -we smuggled thee through the west gate, in a litter, by the connivance -of a sentinel, and so down stream to Topsham, dragging the boat with -difficulty over the Countess’s Weir; thereby we escaped the pursuers -on the road, and favoured by the night, reached this secluded hall -unobserved.” - -“And when shall we go to Glastonbury and complete our task?” - -“Not at present, for they will be looking out for us there, I doubt -not; we have a bitter enemy in Sir John Redfyrne; but when a month or -so has passed away, we may venture, well disguised.” - -“And shall we never dare to return home again?” - -“Nay, not while Henry reigns; it would not be worth the risk; there is -no sufficient object.” - -“And our poor brethren there?” - -“They will, I trust, be undisturbed; before our trial I made a gift of -the estate to Brother Cyril, late of Glastonbury, under his worldly -name: after conviction our property would have become that of the -state.” - -“Then we are very poor, father?” - -“Do’st thou love me less?” - -“Nay, thou shalt see how true thine adopted son will be, God helping -him.” - -“I know it, dear boy, but it is not so bad as it appears at first -sight, for foreseeing an evil day, I had forwarded considerable funds, -for thy use and mine, to my old friend the Baron de Courcy, to whose -care I purpose committing thee should we ever win our way to France, as -now I trust we shall.” - -“And we shall be exiles?” - -“‘Omne solum forti patria,’ said the heathen poet: how much more true -to the Christian! And now, my son, thou must yet repose a while, and -ere noon-tide I will bring our kind host and hostess to see thee; they -lost their son, an only child, in the Pilgrimage of Grace, where he -fought as a volunteer under Robert Aske. I knew the poor boy; they were -strangely moved when thou didst arrive; the mother cried, ‘He is so -like our Robin.’” - - * * * * * - -A few days of calm repose varied by walks, cautiously taken on the -breezy moor behind the hall, soon restored the hues of health to -Cuthbert’s cheeks, and renewed his earlier vigour. Oh, how sweet the -boundless freedom of that wilderness, how invigorating the scent of the -pine groves, how bright the glimpses of sea down the valleys. Not far -off, scarce two miles, was a large farm house on the road to Budleigh -Salterton, where a family of the name of Raleigh lived; but their -politics were hostile to those of Sir Robin Tremayne and Sir Walter -Trevannion; they, the Raleighs, were men who worshipped the rising sun, -and who a few years later were eager in the suppression of the Catholic -Rebellion in Devon and Cornwall. In that house which our Cuthbert often -saw from a distance, was born a bright star to adorn Elizabeth’s Court -but a few years later.[48] - -So nearly a month passed away, an interlude between two periods of -excitement, and at length came All Hallows Eve, with its memory of the -past, and a bright All Saints’ Day, a day when the words of our sweet -modern singer might be realized:-- - - “Why blowest thou not thou wintry wind? - When every leaf is brown and sere, - And idly hangs, to thee resigned, - The fading foliage of the year.” - -A chapel was attached to the hall wherein Father Ambrose, for so we -shall call him in this connection, celebrated the Holy Mysteries, and -they thought of Richard Whiting, as amongst the great multitude which -no man could number. - -Their plans were now matured; they were to assume the disguise of a -farmer and his son, travelling on agricultural business, to stop, -one night only, at an inn on the borders of Somerset, and to reach -Glastonbury the second day, then to find shelter with old Hodge, and -rising at midnight to seek the ruins, and do their appointed work. - -After this they planned to take horse for Lyme Regis, where they -doubted not Cuthbert’s reputed uncle, mentioned before in this story, -would get them off to sea; of their reception in France, they were well -assured. - -A tried and trusted messenger was despatched to Glastonbury by Sir -Robin, who knew the people and the country well; he brought back word -that old Hodge and his wife were yet living and well, and that they -were more than willing to take their own share of the risk, for it was -death to shelter attainted men; and that, so far as he could learn, Sir -John Redfyrne was living in his own manor house--the reader knows how -he had made it “his own”--and was expected daily to return to court. - -“Better wait till we are sure he has returned thither,” said Sir Robert. - -“Nay, Redfyrne Hall is many miles from Glaston; there is little danger: -besides we shall be well disguised; and we must remember every week -makes the weather worse for crossing the Channel in an open boat.” - -So the day came, a bright calm day within the octave of All Saints’, -very mild and balmy for the season, the day for departure from their -little Zoar, on their perilous errand. - -They sat at breakfast for the last time. Do not let the word conjure up -tea and coffee before the mind of the reader, it was a most substantial -meal, composed of joints and pastry, washed down by ale and wine; but -they ate little. - -It was over, there was not much talk, the hearts of all were too full, -and what there was ran in a subdued strain; the dear old lady was in -tears, for Cuthbert had become a second Robin, and it was like losing -her son again. - -Before they parted, Sir Robert brought a sword from the armoury. - -“It was my poor Robin’s; wear it, my son, for his sake, for thou art -worthy of it.” - -Their disguises were at hand, and they assumed them and departed, after -a warm farewell and many deep expressions of gratitude. - -Cuthbert felt a little sad at first, but the invigorating air, and the -restoration to life and action soon revived his spirits, and the love -of adventure, never wanting in the young, shed its glamour over him, as -they rode over Woodbury Common on their way to Glastonbury. - -And thence from that breezy height, looking back, he caught his last -view of Dartmoor. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[46] “He shall feed me in a green pasture, and lead me forth beside the -waters of comfort.”--_Psalm_ xxiii. 2. - -[47] Witness, for instance, the case of Lord Dacre, of Hurstmonceux, -executed for an offence which, a few generations earlier, would hardly -have been considered an offence at all. Like Percy of Chevy Chase he -had gone hunting in his neighbour’s grounds; a fray took place and he -slew a gamekeeper. Henry would hear of no excuse, and the noble paid -for the peasant’s blood on the scaffold at Tyburn, June 29th, 1541. - -[48] Sir Walter Raleigh, born six years later, in 1552. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -_THE SHADOWS DARKEN._ - - -In the library of Castle Redfyrne sat Sir John, the present lord of -that ancient manor, at a writing table placed in the embrasure of a -gothic window, whence he could look over the broad acres he had made -his own. - -In the shelves were ranged many printed books and curious manuscripts, -in part the plunder of Glastonbury Abbey; and in truth never was -typography clearer, or more beautiful than in the first century of its -existence; nor on the other hand was caligraphy, as exemplified in -ancient missals and breviaries, ever more a work of art than when about -to be superseded by the printing press. - -But Sir John was not thinking of these things, his evil heart was full -of bitterness. - -There is an old Spanish proverb,--“The man who has injured thee, will -never forgive thee.” Sir John had injured his brother’s child, deeply, -cruelly, and he could not forgive him. - -He rose from the table and paced the room; his brow was knit; oft times -he gnashed his teeth. So we are told that his namesake, king John, -would roll on the floor and bite the straw which served in his royal -palace as carpet, in his maniacal fits of passion. With his name, a -double portion of his spirit had fallen upon the hapless Redfyrne of -our tale. - -The whole of that scene at Exeter was before his mind as he strode to -and fro, painted by the vivid pencil of a too faithful memory. - -At length he rang a bell which stood on the table, and soon Nicholas -appeared in the door way. - -He was now a tall youth; his hair was brighter than ever,--that hair -had betrayed him more than once: when he was young, playing truant, he -had hidden in a field of long grass, the schoolmaster was abroad, and -after him, and by chance, gazing over the field, saw a head, bright as -a poppy, peep up and disappear; it was enough, he was caught; thanks to -the lively hues with which nature had ornamented him. - -And the sly expression of his features was not altered; that sharp nose -which had once won him the nick-name “Pointer,” gave him as fox-like an -expression as ever. - -The tie between him and Sir John was one of evil, yet Sir John loved -him as much as it was in his cold and selfish nature to love any one; -he liked him for his very vices, in forming which he had taken no -slight share; like those of whom the Apostle writes:-- - -“Who knowing the judgment of God, that they who do such things are -worthy of death, not only do them, but take pleasure in them that do -them.” - -Nicholas was now rather the companion than the page, and on very -familiar terms with Sir John. - -“Didst thou lie awake long last night, Nick?” - -“I was somewhat restless, sir.” - -“Didst thou hear aught unusual?” - -“No,” said Nicholas, after pausing to reflect. - -“Think again; any loud noise?” - -“I cannot remember any.” - -Sir John again paced up and down as if communing with himself. - -“_Was_ there aught unusual, sir?” - -“Yes, I distinctly heard a door shut with a loud clang.” - -“May have been the wind.” - -“Nay, that would not have startled me; the fact is, the sound was not -that of any door about this place; it shut with a clang as of a dungeon -door falling into a framework of stone.” - -“There is no such door, save in the old oubliettes below the towers; I -wish we had Cuthbert in _one_, and his reverend father in another.” - -“No there _is_ none; the fact startled me, and a strange thrill, which -I cannot account for, went through me as I heard it.” - -Sir John paused, and a visible tremor passed over him, which was -strange in a man of his iron constitution. - -“But I have not sent for you to talk about this; hast thou gleaned any -tidings of Cuthbert at Glastonbury?” - -“Yes; that a stranger called upon those old dolts, the foster father -and mother of my friend Cuthbert; he came from the west, for his horse -cast a shoe, and the smith remarked that the beast had been shod in -Devon, from the make of his shoes. This happened in the hearing of a -cunning fellow, Luke Sharp, who is in our pay, and he managed to entice -the fellow to an ale house, and tried to make him drunk. Well, the -messenger was, after all, a little too cute for that; but Luke told -me that both from what the fellow did say, and from what he did not -say, he was sure that he came from our old acquaintances; and I fancy -they may both be expected to pay a visit to Glastonbury on particular -business ere long.” - -“Thou hatest this Cuthbert?” - -“Ever since I have known him.” - -“Because he once gave you a thrashing, hey, Nick?” - -“No; I am not ashamed of that, for I fought as long as I could stand -or see; but I only wish this, that I could try chances again with him; -with the sword, not the fist. I would sooner have him face to face with -me, on the sward, with nothing but our shirts between sword point and -breast, than see him on the scaffold again: I believe I could master -him, the reverend brethren are poor masters of fence, and scant mercy -should he get were he down.” - -Sir John laughed merrily; the cheerful sentiment delighted him. - -“Nick,” he said, “mayst thou have thy desire, and may I be there to -see; I should laugh heartily to see thee pink him; but I want thee to -ride with me now; saddle our horses and be ready in ten minutes.” - - * * * * * - -In a dismal dell or hollow glen, which had been worn from the side of -a hill, in the course of ages by a streamlet, filled with brambles, -nettles, and the slime of rotting vegetation, was a squalid hut, and -therein dwelt an old blear-eyed, toothless hag, named Gammer Gatch. - -By common repute she was a witch, and would long since have tasted of -a lighted tar-barrel, and a few faggots to help, but for the protection -extended to her by her landlord, Sir John. - -Years of persecution had made her a lonely misanthrope, believing -absolutely in her communion with Satan, and her power for evil; poor -wretch, whatever may have been her degree of Satanic inspiration she -was guilty in intention; and when, after her temporary protector was -gone, she was at last brought to trial, she gloried in her supposed -alliance with Satan, and so made it easy for the judge and jury to send -her with clear consciences to the stake. - -Those who read the terrible literature which exists on this subject -will be puzzled about many things, but will not doubt that several who -suffered for impossible crimes, lacked but the _power_, not the _will_ -to have performed them. - -It has often been noticed that men who have renounced their belief in -Christianity, or even in a God, have become willing captives to the -grossest forms of superstition, a truth not lacking examples in our own -days; and thus it came to pass that Sir John, denying the existence of -God, believed, instead, in Gammer Gatch; and thither he was bound now. - -Leaving Nicholas on the brink of the glen in charge of the horses, -he descended into the dell, and entered the hut which was avoided by -all Christian people, save a few, who despite of their creed, came to -consult the “wise woman” in divers difficulties. - -Lying, littered about, were human bones, a few grinning skulls, unclean -reptiles, uncouth wax figures; the wall was blackened by cabalistic -signs. The hut was built against the rocky side of the glen, and a -ragged curtain concealed an aperture in the natural wall. - -“Mother,” said Sir John, “I have business to talk over; there are foes -who hide from me, foes of mine, and of the king, whom I would fain -crush; canst thou help me to discover their whereabouts?” - -“The blackamoor may help us, if thou hast courage to face him.” - -Sir John winced;--“I would rather not see him if it can be done -without.” - -“Couldst thou bear to hear his voice?” - -“I could, methinks.” - -“Come, then, follow me, and we will do our best; thou shalt ask one -question, and if he be in the mood he will answer.” - -She took up a torch of pine, and lit it at the fire. “Follow,” she -said, and drew aside the curtain; a dark passage seemed to lead into -the very bowels of the earth. - -It was one of those celebrated limestone caves of which so remarkable -an example exists in the Cheddar valley; the water which oozed through -the rifts had a strange petrifying power, and objects upon which it -fell were in due time either incrusted with stone or actually petrified. - -From the roof descended long spars of stone in shape like icicles; -fantastic resemblances of various objects met the gaze; here were -shrouds and winding sheets, there delicate tracery like lace; here -hung graceful curtains, and there were grotesque caricatures of animal -life, but all in cold stone. The height of the passage varied; once Sir -John had to follow his haggard guide on hands and knees, but onward -they crawled or walked, deeper and deeper beneath the bowels of the -earth, until they reached a dark cave, which seemed to be hung round -with funereal trappings of black stone; in the centre was a sombre -pool, into which heavy drops of water from above kept falling with a -monotonous splash.[49] - -The hag renewed some half obliterated marks with chalk, which -represented a circle inscribed in a pentagon, and motioned Sir John to -stand beside her within its protection,--“Not a foot or hand outside,” -she said earnestly; then she repeated some mystic words in an unknown -tongue; a mephytic vapour arose, the pool boiled like a geyser, the -cave appeared to tremble, and a deep voice said-- - -“Why hast thou brought me up?” - -“Ask thy question at once,” whispered the witch. - -“Where may I meet my foes?” said Sir John. - -“In the Abbot’s lodging, within the ruined Abbey, at the third midnight -from hence.” - -All was still, the pool became quiet, the atmosphere cleared, and the -hag seizing the hand of Sir John began to retrace her steps. To him the -whole seemed like a dream. - -But is it not possible that HE, Who sent an evil spirit into the mouths -of the false prophets of Ahab, to lure him to his doom at Ramoth -Gilead, and permitted the witch of Endor, not by any power of her own, -to raise up the spirit of Samuel, that he might foretell to the unhappy -Saul his coming fate; that HE allowed the instrumentality of this -wretched victim of a terrible delusion, to accomplish his end--that end -which the progress of our tale will reveal as the direct consequence of -this episode. - -With difficulty Sir John dragged his failing limbs back to the hut, -and for a time he and the hag sat by the fire, all in a tremor. She -seemed as shaken as he: perhaps she, too, had been taken aback by the -phenomenon, when simply preparing some jugglery. - -At length Sir John rose, like one from stupor. - -“Mother, here is money for thee; keep the secret.” - -“Or it would cost me my life; but, Sir John, beware of the Abbey at -midnight, I fear _he_ means thee harm.” - -“Thou carest for me, then?” - -“What would become of me wert thou gone?” - -He shook his head and returned to Nicholas. - -“Good heavens, how pale thou art, sir!” - -“So wouldst thou be hadst thou been with us.” - -“She ought to be burnt.” - -“She is useful just now, and ministers to our designs.” - -Not one word did Sir John speak all the ride homeward; perhaps he -hesitated in his purpose, but at length his mind was made up. - -They supped together, Nicholas waiting on his lord, but yet enjoying -the privilege of supping at the same table. - -After supper, as they discussed some hot sack, the patron said-- - -“Nicholas, I wish thee to go out on the western road which leads from -Glastonbury to Exeter, and thou mayst pass the night at the ‘_Robin -Hood_;’ I have a strange impression our mutual friends will stop there -to-morrow night. If thou meetest them stick to them like a leech, and -follow them, thyself unseen, if possible, to Glastonbury; then join me -in the Abbey, and we will await them there; it is their purpose, I am -sure, to enter that secret chamber and destroy the papers, and I would -fain seize them in the act, and so learn the great secret.” - -“There is much gold hidden there,” said Nicholas. - -“There is, and it may be advisable for us to anticipate the work of the -executioner on the spot, in which case”-- - -“I will answer for Cuthbert,” said Nicholas, even eagerly. “No one -living knows the amount of gold and jewels; and we may deal with the -papers as shall seem advisable; make our market of them, either with -the parties compromised or with the government.” - -They said no more, for up to this moment no idea of acting otherwise -than the law would sanction had crossed the mind of Sir John: to -minister to the vindictive feelings of the king, and to gratify the -royal cupidity, thereby securing his own advancement, had been the -original motives which had actuated him, but now-- - -He looked at Nicholas, but neither spoke again on the subject that -night. - -Sir John retired to rest a little before midnight; his page slept in -the adjoining room. He was soon asleep, but with sleep came a strange -dream,--his dead brother again stood by the bed side, and held an -hour-glass, in which the sand was fast running out, but a few particles -left. “What does it mean?” The dead one shook his head mournfully, and -Sir John awoke-- - -Awoke to hear an awful sound; he felt it coming before it came, -something seemed moving through space; then came a sudden clang as when -the iron door of an oubliette shuts for ever upon the captive of a -living tomb. - -“Nicholas! Nicholas!” - -“What is the matter, sir?” - -“Didst thou not hear?” - -“Nay, I was awake, and all was still; thou wert dreaming, Sir John.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[49] The reader who has penetrated the Cheddar caves will recognize the -description. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -_AN ANCIENT INN._ - - -A month had passed away since the scaffold had lost its victims at -Exeter, and although the agents of government had made every enquiry, -searched every suspicious nook, and each house supposed to belong to -malcontents, no trace of those who had been snatched from the hungry -jaws of tyranny when about to crush them, had rewarded the zealous and -obsequious spies. - -Neither did the common people care to disguise their satisfaction, -although it must be owned there were those whom we have already called -“cannibals,” who grieved that so goodly a show had been spoilt at -the very crisis. The frequent executions, and sanguinary spectacles -which this paternal government had provided, like the shows of -the amphitheatre at an earlier age, had created a craving for the -excitement of witnessing bloodshed amongst certain morbid spirits, to -the destruction of all better feelings and human sympathies. - -A month, and our scene is changed. - -Upon the hilly ground which separates the counties of Devon and -Somerset, not many miles from Honiton, stood a lonely inn called -the “Robin Hood;” the traveller will search in vain for it now, but -there it stood in the days of which we write, on the main road, near -the summit of a long ascent. Many plantations of fir and pine were -thereabouts, and yielded that sweet scent, so favourable as we are told -to the health of the consumptive, and in front of the rambling house -the eye roamed down a rich valley, until, over the old tower of Colyton -Church, appeared a glimpse of the blue sea, set in a frame of delicious -purple and green, the green of woodland and the purple of heather. - -In these days invalids would go to live in such a place, and tourists -would linger there for days, drinking in its sweet pine-scented -atmosphere, or gazing upon the dreamy scenery: but in _those_ times men -had but a faint appreciation of the beauties of nature, and the inn -knew only such guests as tarried but a day, save when snowed in, or -otherwise weather-bound. - -It was a lovely evening during the week after All Saints’ Day--for -there are sometimes lovely days in November, when the last gleams of -autumn seem to shine upon the scene, when the golden foliage looks -richer than the duller tints of summer, and the leaves hail the rough -blasts which are close at hand, dressed in their richest garb of gold -and purple, ere they are blown away to die, like good vain people, who -would fain dress in their best for the closing scene of all. - -The sun had gone down over the western ridge, in a flood of fiery -light, and the full moon poured her silvery beams over the scene, when -two riders came slowly up the long ascent, and drew bridle before the -porch. - -“Canst give us a room to ourselves, landlord, to-night--both to sup and -sleep?” - -“Thee must sit with thy neighbours and sup with them, but mayst have a -bed room all to your two selves.” - -“Won’t money do it?” - -“There isn’t time for Crooks the mason to build for you, if you laid -the money down for bricks and mortar: you should give us a month’s -notice.” - -“Needs must then,” said the elder; “take the horses, my son. Is the -ostler at hand?” - -“He will be here in a minute or two, if you are above looking to your -own beasts.” - -“We should be poor farmers if we were,” said the elder. “Come, John, my -son, the stable is over this side, I see. What hour is your supper?” - -“Curfew,” said the Boniface, “and you will find good company: a priest, -a lawyer, a leech, a youth who looks like a page, and my worthy self, -who have filled that chair for twenty years, to carve for you.” - -“Could not be better, the very idea appetizes me; come, John, in with -the horses.” - -Soon father and son joined the motley company in the great common room -of the inn, with its huge settles, its capacious hearth, and blazing -fire; the priest sat in a corner of the room conning his book of hours: -the leech (or doctor, as folk now call him,) talked to a rheumatic -countryman who shook with his ailments: the lawyer discussed some -recent statutes with a client who travelled with him to the approaching -assize at Exeter: and the page-- - -Well, he was a good-looking stalwart fellow, who bore his burden of -twenty years or so jauntily,--good-looking, but not prepossessing; he -had that particularly sharp and bright appearance a hair of reddish -hue often gives, and which was once esteemed an ornament, and sign of -high blood,[50] although silly people like to poke jokes at the wearer -now-a-days. Moreover, there was a sly expression about his face which -provoked mistrust; whether deservedly or not, the reader must judge by -his deeds. - -This page, then, when the farmer and son entered the room, started, -then looked again, and an expression of surprise, not unmingled with -satisfaction, crossed his flexible features. - -Gradually the talk lost its technical character, and became general; -once or twice it approached politics, but the great danger which then -attended political or religious discussions, wherein one incautious -word, as it had often done in fact, might cost a man his life, made -men very shy of expressing their opinions. The bluff hearty way in -which Englishmen of the Plantagenet period (in which time we include -the houses of York and Lancaster) expressed their honest opinions, was -gradually losing itself in a reserved and distrustful manner, which did -not improve the national character, once so frank and open. - -And moreover, the political system, inaugurated by Cromwell, had filled -the country, as we have seen, with spies; so that men were chary of -expressing their opinions before strangers. Still they discussed, with -bated breath, the king’s failing health: the question whether the -Conservative party, under the Duke of Norfolk and Bishop Gardiner, with -its Catholic sympathies, or the Reforming party, with the Archbishop -at its head, would win the royal sympathy and hold the reins of power. -It was not then a question which held a majority in parliament, but -which party pleased the king. - -The lawyer here made a diversion. - -“Has any one heard aught of the fugitives who escaped rope and -quartering knife at Exeter?” - -The red-haired page on hearing this gazed intently, with a very -malicious smile, upon the face of the farmer’s son. - -“Why, no,” said the leech, who was travelling from Exeter to Wells; -“and yet they have made diligent search; but who can explore the wilds -of Dartmoor, where they are doubtless hidden?” - -“Has no one been hung for that affair?” inquired the merchant. “Hemp is -going down in the market!” - -“No one _as yet_,” said the page, with a slight laugh, which sat -unamiably on one so young. - -“Well, then,” said the lawyer, “some one will have to be.” - -Again the page looked at the young farmer, who returned a broad stare -with the greatest apparent unconcern, and observed, in a broad Devonian -dialect, that “Dartmoor was a cranky place to hide in.” - -The page looked puzzled. - -Here “mine host” announced supper, and it soon smoked on the board: a -sucking-pig stewed in its own gravy, a saddle of mutton, a chine of -pork, a loin of beef, all well cooked and savoury; bread in plenty, but -no vegetables; salt, but no pepper or mustard; wooden platters, rude -abundance, but no luxury. - -“Give me the roast beef of old England,” said our farmer, and stuck to -the joint. - -The supper over, for we will not pursue the desultory conversation -which enlivened it, the guests betook themselves to their several -bed-chambers, which lay immediately beneath the high slanting roof, the -long garret being divided into chambers by partitions of board, each -with its dormer window. - -Two truckle beds, in one of those chambers, which was central in its -position, accommodated the father and son, who were no sooner alone -than they became once more our old friends Sir Walter Trevannion and -Cuthbert, as the reader has doubtless long since surmised, on their -way to Glastonbury to fulfil the dying wishes of the last Abbot, ere -leaving England for ever, and travelling under assumed characters, for -reasons needless to mention. - -“Cuthbert,” said his adopted parent, “we must follow different roads -to-morrow for the sake of greater security; you must travel through -Ilminster and Langport, I must take the southern road through Crewkerne -and Ilchester; those who look out for two travellers, corresponding to -the descriptions already advertized of our persons, will be less likely -to recognize either.” - -Cuthbert looked very sad at this. - -“_Must_ we _really_ separate, father?” he said; “there is danger, and -I would fain be nigh thee. I am young and vigorous, and might bear the -brunt. Listen, I recognized an old Glastonbury boy, a former Abbey -scholar, who was my especial enemy at school, and far worse than that, -he guided the men who took the sainted Abbot,--’twas that red-haired -page, his name is Nicholas Grabber, I think he knew and suspected me, -although I tried hard to stare him out of countenance.” - -“All the more reason, my dear son, that we should separate, one at -least may arrive safely, and each has now the secret. Our lives are as -nothing in comparison with this duty; one day’s riding will suffice, if -we start about day-break, and at midnight we will meet in the Abbot’s -chamber; the moon will be full, and there will be none to disturb us -in the roofless desecrated pile; we can destroy those papers, and then -seek Lyme Regis, and your uncle’s bark--you feel sure we may trust him?” - -“Quite sure; at least he loves me for his brother’s sake, my foster -father, Giles Hodge.” - -“And we need not tell him any more than is necessary; it will be safer -for him. And now let me ask once more about the secret chamber, to make -quite sure I can master the door.” - -“The rose, fourth in order from the door and the third from the ground.” - -The good father took out his tablets, and made a note thereof. - -“Now, dear Cuthbert, our Compline office, and then to rest. We must be -waking early.” - - * * * * * - -The sun rose brightly upon the old inn; it was a fresh, invigorating -morning, with a keen frosty air, just such as would invite one to ride, -walk, or run. - -Cuthbert came out, his valise strapped on by a belt, and was ready -to mount; his reputed father had already gone, for he had the longer -journey, and Cuthbert was about to depart in turn. - -He slipped a rose-noble into the hand of the ostler, whose face -brightened as he received this unexpected donation, which was hardly a -consistent or prudent one on Cuthbert’s part, at least in his assumed -character. - -“Thee beest a gentleman, and dang’d if I don’t tell thee all: I knows -thee, I was in Exeter t’other day, when two folks were to have been -strapped and cut up.” - -“You will not betray me, then?” - -“Not I; ’twor a mortal shame to think of cutting such a likely lad, -like a pig to be stowed away in flitches; but I have a word more to -say, thee hast an enemy here, or at least he _was_ here.” - -“Indeed, who was he?” - -“Red-haired chap--foxey like. Was you two talking much after you went -to bed? if so, I hope you did not tell each other any secrets.” - -“Why? pray tell me.” - -“Because in next chamber slept red-haired chap--‘foxey’ I calls -him,--and as I was going by to my bed at the end of the passage, I seed -him through his door, which he had left ajar, with his ear as fast, as -if he were glued to the partition, where I knowed there was a little -hole.” - -Cuthbert looked serious as he said, “And were we talking just then?” - -“Yes, I heard summut about Ilminster and Langport, and some other -places; you were talking too loudly, and I don’t doubt ‘foxey’ heard it -all, too; beest thee going that way?” - -“Yes, I must.” - -“Can’t ye take another? He’s gone that ere way before thee, I saw him -start; he had a sword by his side, and may lurk in ambush for thee.” - -“No, no,” thought Cuthbert, “it means _worse_ than that; he knows -about our meeting at midnight, and his plan will be to surprise both of -us, and the secret: Sir John may be at Glastonbury, and he would go to -him at once.” - -“Good bye, and many thanks,” he said, aloud, “he has more need to fear -_me_ than I _him_. I _must_ catch him, he must never reach Glastonbury -before me, it would be utter hopeless ruin. Good bye, keep our secret -to yourself, and God bless you.” - -And setting spurs to his horse, he rode off at a brisk trot. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[50] At another time, persons so favoured were unfortunately looked -upon as special favourites of Satan, and suffered accordingly in the -judicial holocausts for supposed witchcraft and sorcery. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -_THE HAND OF GOD._ - - -Cuthbert rode at a brisk trot through the woods, sometimes breaking -into a gallop; but he was too good a horseman to “take it all out -of his steed” at starting, for he felt that the chase might last -the entire day. The woods were beautiful in their calm decay, that -November morning, but he had no heart to observe them, his whole soul -was wrapped up in one consideration--should he overtake Nicholas and -prevent his betraying the secret he had so meanly gained? - -At any cost the spy must be hindered from reaching Glastonbury -that night; if force were necessary, and to fight became the only -alternative, the fight must be fought; they were both armed. The ostler -had mentioned that Nicholas had a sword by his side, as became a smart -young page; but then Cuthbert wore one also, concealed beneath his -cloak, as more befitting his present disguise. It will be remembered as -the parting gift of Sir Robert Tremayne. - -Not only did the life of his patron, Sir Walter, to say nothing of -his own, depend upon the non-arrival of Nicholas at Glastonbury, but -perchance the lives of many adherents of the old faith, whose names -were inscribed upon those documents, which Cuthbert knew were yet -hidden in the chest which lay within the undiscovered muniment chamber -of the Abbey. - -Nor can we pretend to deny that the persistent animosity, the deadly -hatred, but above all the underhand way in which Nicholas had now twice -penetrated into the secrets intrusted to his care, exasperated our hero -to the utmost. - -Filled with these thoughts, Cuthbert reached Ilminster, a small country -town, where he arrived about ten in the morning; he could not obtain -a change of steeds at the inn, so was forced to wait for his horse to -bait. - -He enquired whether any traveller had been before him on the road, and -learned that a youth, dressed as a page, had preceded him by one entire -hour. - -So as yet he had not gained upon him. - -The grey-headed ostler observed his uneasiness. - -“Dost thou wish to catch that page?” - -“I have most important business with him.” - -“Humph! I hope it is friendly, but that is not my affair; if thou -canst make it worth my while, I will compound a draught for thy horse, -which will make him go as if he had wings, instead of legs, for a few -hours----” - -“And then?” - -“Why, then, he will be very tired; but his work will be done, and if -the beast rests for a day or two afterwards he will not suffer.” - -“A noble for thee, if thou canst get the draught.” - -The ostler went away a brief space, and returned with a mixture which -he poured into a bucket with a little water; the steed drank it -greedily. - -“Now let him rest another half-hour, and he will be ready.” - -“Half-an-hour, now--” - -“Thou hast but just arrived; get thine own breakfast, and thou needest -not tarry again till thou catchest Master Redpate. He could not get a -change of horses here either, although he tried hard; there was a hunt -in the neighbourhood, and every steed was in the field; thou wilt hear -of him before thou reachest Glastonbury.” - -Cuthbert was forced to make a merit of necessity and wait as patiently -as he could. - -“If thou canst not take it easy, take it as easy as thou canst,” said -this old philosopher of an ostler. - -At the end of the half-hour he brought the horse to the door. Cuthbert -mounted eagerly, gave the man his promised douceur, and was off. - -“Let him go gently for a mile, then thou wilt need neither whip nor -spur,” cried the old man. - -Cuthbert obeyed; but soon found the horse eager to canter, then to -gallop; joyfully he gave it its head, holding it up carefully in stony -places: for did not life, and more than life, depend upon the poor -beast? - -Mile after mile flew by; and now Langport was in sight; it was the hour -of noon. - -Cuthbert inquired at the inn again; there was but one, frequented by -wayfarers. - -“Yes, a young page who seemed anxious to reach Glastonbury, had left -but half-an-hour; he had taken a fresh steed, and left his own, much -exhausted, behind.” - -Cuthbert delayed not a moment; his horse did not seem a wit inclined to -tarry either. - -But now he entered a district of bad roads, and progress was slow, for -a fall would ruin everything; the comfort was that Nicholas must be -equally delayed. - -Hour after hour of sickening disappointment; every turn of the road, -our hero looked for his young foe, but in vain; and now the sun, which -sets soon after four in November, was sinking down to the horizon; the -ground was becoming hard again with the frost: it had thawed in the -noon-tide. - -At length, the distant Tor arose upon the horizon, a solitary hill -arising like a beacon from the wide plain of Avalon, but still no -Nicholas. - -Now he entered the precincts of the forest, which had once extended for -miles around Glastonbury, that same forest introduced to our readers in -the prologue to our tale, wherein the youthful Cuthbert was found in -the snow by Giles Hodge. - -Suddenly his eyes were attracted by an object still some distance in -front of him, lying against the trunk of a huge beech tree. - -It looked like a human figure. - -Nearer, nearer; yes, it is a youth lying on the road, he is in the -dress of a page, he has red hair; it is _Nicholas_. - -Cuthbert leapt from his steed, and as he did so saw the solution of the -thing: the red-haired page’s horse had stumbled upon some sharp flints, -and thrown his rider with great violence; and there he lay, as if dead, -in the road, a low moaning alone testifying that life yet lingered. - -“God has interposed in defence of the right,” thought Cuthbert, with -awe, not unmingled with pity in spite of his recent hostile intentions; -for the sight of the suffering of his foe subdued his animosity. - -The wounded youth muttered feebly, “Water! Water!” - -There was a spring close by; Cuthbert brought clear sparkling water -in a flask which he carried; the poor wretch drank eagerly, and then -suddenly recognized Cuthbert. - -“What, Cuthbert! can it be thou! dost thou forgive me then? since I am -dying, and can harm thee no more.” - -“I am trying to do so.” - -“Cuthbert! canst thou forgive one who sought thy life with such -animosity, spied upon thee, obtained thy secrets, and was even now on -his road to betray thee? if thou canst, God may forgive me too, for He -will not be less merciful than man.” - -“Yes, I do forgive,” said Cuthbert, touched by this appeal, “as I hope -to be forgiven.” - -“Thou art better far than I: I should have passed by thee, too glad -to get to Glastonbury first, and do the devil’s work. Cuthbert, I am -dying, I cannot move my legs or body, only my head, and can hardly -breathe.” - -He spoke with short gasps. - -“I was riding so fast--I came upon my hands--but pitched over -again on my back--my spine came upon that sharp stone there--put -there to punish me for my sins;--oh! for a priest--am I to die -unhouselled,--unanointed,--unabsolved?” - -“God can forgive without sacraments when they cannot be had, I have -heard the Abbot say so in old times.” - -“Ah! _the Abbot_, had I but followed his holy precepts; but I betrayed -him to his enemies and followed Sir John, and he has led me into all -kinds of sin--debauchery, riot, uncleanness, as if he loved to corrupt -me.” - -A change passed over the face of the dying youth. - -“A strange numbness creeps over me,--only my head seems alive--my -breathing is--so difficult--I choke--raise my head.” - -A painful struggle succeeded. Cuthbert had been taught the rudiments -of surgery and he knew the truth; the spine was broken just below the -neck, and he saw that suffocation would be the end, from inability to -inflate the lungs, or to inhale the air. - -“Pray! ask the saints to intercede for thee! call upon the Blessed -Mother! nay upon the Incarnate Son Himself!” said Cuthbert after the -teaching of his day. - -“Sancte Nicolæ ora pro me--Cuthbert hasten to Glastonbury--Sir -John--the secret chamber--midnight--beware--omnes sancti--orate pro me -peccatore.” - -And so he died. - -“I thank God his blood is not upon my head, that He Who has said -‘Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,’ has Himself decided the question -between us: poor Nicholas! yes, I can forgive thee freely, and the best -proof of forgiveness is to pray for thy soul.” - -He first laid the body decently on the turf, beneath the spreading -beech, closed the eyes, composed the features, then spread the -ill-fated youth’s cloak over his corpse, and knelt down to pray. - -When he arose, the setting sun was casting his rays on all that was -mortal of Nicholas Grabber. Cuthbert re-mounted his steed, cast a -lingering look behind, then rode on slowly, for he could give his horse -rest now, towards Glastonbury. - -He entered that old monastic town by moonlight, ere the curfew rang; -he felt strangely moved by all that had happened, yet he could but be -sensible of great relief that such a danger was averted, much as he now -pitied his late foe. - -He passed the butts where he had once contended with Nicholas for the -silver arrow, and entered the town; every street and almost every house -awakened a flood of boyish recollections; but he turned not aside, -until he reached the outskirts on the opposite side of the place, where -his old foster father and mother yet, as he knew, _lived_, in a new -cottage on the site of the former one, destroyed by fire. - -Yes, there stood the new house; built after the pattern of the old one, -and Cuthbert tied up his horse and knocked at the door with beating -heart. - -“Come in,” says a dear familiar voice; he enters, is recognized. Yes, -they are both there; the old man stands amazed, but the poor old lady -throws her arms around him crying out “My boy, my boy.” - -During all these long years they had but once or twice heard of him, -until the messenger, of whom we have spoken, reached them from Sir -Robert Tremayne; they could not read, and if they could, it would have -been dangerous for Cuthbert to have written to them; they knew nought -of his recent dangers, of the trial at Exeter; let my readers then -imagine how much Cuthbert had to tell. - -And when hunger was appeased, he began his long story, and they -listened with deep interest to the narrative of his recent captivity -and marvellous escape; but when he told them of the fate of Nicholas, -and how he lay dead in the woods, they seemed awe-struck. - -They had not seen Sir John Redfyrne, and knew not if he was in the -neighbourhood. - -“The ways of God are beyond our thoughts,” said the old man, “but He is -manifestly on thy side, my boy, so fear not, all will be well.” - -Then some words he had often sung in choir, came into Cuthbert’s mind; -I shall give them as he once sang them-- - - “Nisi quia Dominus erat in nobis, dicat nunc Israel: nisi quia - Dominus erat in nobis; - Cum exsurgerent homines in nos: forte vivos deglutissent nos.”[51] - -But it was drawing near midnight, and Cuthbert told them he had to meet -Father Ambrose at that hour in the ruins of the Abbey. - -“God preserve us,” said the old people together, “O mihi beate -Martine;[52] men do say they are haunted.” - -“Though as many ghosts were there as stones in the ruined pile, thither -must I go.” - -“Thou wilt see us once more, dear boy?” - -“If possible; I will knock at the door when our work is done--that is -if permitted to tarry; but of one thing be assured, that while I live -my heart will ever beat true to its first love--the love of my foster -parents.” - -They embraced in silence amidst tears. - -“The saints preserve him,” said the aged couple. - -They did not retire to bed that night, it would have been a mere -mockery of rest; they sat up and watched. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[51] If the Lord Himself had not been on our side, now may Israel say: -if the Lord Himself had not been on our side, when men rose up against -us; &c. (_Psalm_ cxxiv.) - -[52] In those days this was a common invocation. S. Martin was a -favourite saint in England: it shews the tendency of language to become -the vehicle of lower ideas, that this invocation of S. Martin was -corrupted into “O my eye and Betty Martin” in Protestant days. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -_THE TRUST FULFILLED._ - - -Once more at the midnight hour Cuthbert sought the Abbey precincts; the -night was bright--it was almost as light as day, the moon was at the -full. - -But all the town was buried in sleep; not a watch dog barked--not a -watchman stirred--alone, unobserved, Cuthbert walked along the streets. - -The chief entrance into the Abbey was from S. Mary Magdalene Street, -which lay on the west of the ruined pile; it led to the Chapel of S. -Joseph, and through that chapel, eastward, one passed into the nave of -the great church. - -When Cuthbert approached, he saw the entrance yawning wide, like a -cavern, for the gates had been sold for the value of the wood;[53] and -he entered into the desecrated chapel, which so many generations had -revered as the very sanctuary of Avalon, the holy place, as men said, -trodden of old, by the saintly feet of him of Arimathæa. - -On the right was the porter’s cell, but where, alas, was the porter? -he had been driven to beggary, and in accordance with the vagrant laws -drawn up by Henry himself, had been stripped naked from the waist -upward, tied to the end of a cart, and beaten with whips through the -town, “till his body was bloody by reason of such whipping.”[54] - -He had not dared to beg again so he simply starved, and made his moan -to the God of Heaven, died and received a pauper’s funeral, let us hope -to be carried like a beggar of old, “by angels into Abraham’s bosom.” - -His fate was perhaps milder than the fate of many of his brethren, -who unable to find work, and unwilling to starve, had repeated their -offence, had been brutally mutilated on the second occasion, and, on -the third, hung, as felons and enemies of the commonwealth. - -Cuthbert drank sadly of the holy well and plucked a sprig of the thorn, -ere he entered the nave of the church. What a sight then met his view! - -The defaced tomb stones, broken altars, empty niches, all stood out in -brilliant relief as the chill moon looked down upon them, that November -night; “Ichabod--the glory is departed” might well have been inscribed -on that ruined fane. - -It was as large as most of our cathedrals, for the extreme length of -the building, from S. Joseph’s Chapel at the west, to the Ladye Chapel -at the east, was no less than five hundred and eighty feet, and there -were two deep transepts, on the east of each of which, were also two -chapels. - -The thronging multitudes, the incense laden air, the swelling chants, -the imposing processions, the pealing anthem, all came to the -remembrance of this solitary youth, as he knelt before the ruined -altar, where as an acolyte he had so often knelt, and wept. - -Rising, for it was near midnight, to fulfil his tryst, he traversed the -south transept where the famous clock had once stood which told not -only day and hour, but the changes of sun and moon,[55] and made for -a door in the south aisle of the nave. Here he paused as his eye fell -upon the epitaph to the memory of Richard Beere, the predecessor of -the last Abbot of Glastonbury, who elected in the year 1493, had died -in peace, in the thirty-first year of his rule, the year before the -birth of Cuthbert; happy was he in the time of his life, happy too in -his death, for he was taken from the evil to come; although there was -no visible cloud in the horizon, to make him say with Louis Quinze, -“_Après moi le déluge_.” Glastonbury Abbey had then attained the summit -of its prosperity, being one of the richest and most renowned of all -the abbeys of England. - -Cuthbert passed through the doorway in the south aisle, and entered the -cloisters, which stood at the south side of the great church, forming a -square of two hundred and twenty feet, surrounded by an arcade in which -the poor monks had once been accustomed to take the air in winter, -and to seek the shade in summer, while they held colloquy in their -recreation hour. - -Leaving the chapter house on the east, he turned the angle of the -cloister, and passed along the front of the refectory on his road to -the Abbot’s lodgings, which lay to the south-west of the pile. - -But here he paused, and recalled the past as he gazed around the -cloisters: on the east lay the _chapter house_, which he had once -regarded with such reverent awe, where had been the Lord Abbot’s -throne, so worthily filled by its last occupant; behind him the -_refectory_ occupied the whole south side of the square, where -Cuthbert remembered seven long tables whereat the monks had taken -their sober repasts,[56] while one of their number read from the pulpit -the Holy Scriptures or some godly tome of the fathers: to the west lay -the _fratery_ or apartments of the novices, and to the north was the -great south front of the church. - -Over the cloisters was a gallery, from which had opened the _library_, -wherein had been many valuable MSS., including one of Livy, which -perhaps contained the lost decades: it had been sold to wrap up -groceries; the _scriptorium_, where the ill-fated brethren had made -copies of the Holy Scriptures and the Office books of the Church; the -_common room_, wherein around the great hearth the brethren assembled -in hours of leisure; the _wardrobe_, and the _treasury_. - -All lay alike in sad ruin: all that _would_ sell had been sold: the -mere shell of the building remained. - -Over these rooms, on what we may call the _second_ floor, lay the -_dormitories_, where each monk had had his little cell containing a -bed, a table, a crucifix and a drawer for papers and books. Hard by was -the schoolroom, and the apartments of the choristers and other boys, -who had lived in the house. - -While in the cloister, calling back the past to mind, he heard a -step,--was it that of Father Ambrose? Cuthbert called in a subdued -voice, but no answer was returned; he hurried up to the end of the -cloister, his hand on his sword, but saw no one. - -Well might the ruined desecrated pile suggest awe in this midnight hour. - - “O’er all there hung the shadow of a fear, - A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, - And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, - The place is haunted.” - -Then he remembered that the unhappy Nicholas in his dying gasps had -cried-- - -“Sir John; the secret chamber; midnight; beware!” and had died before -he could offer the reparation of explanation. - -And now he had reached the Abbot’s former dwelling, a detached -building, connected by a covered way with the cloisters. It stood west -of the refectory and great hall; it had suffered less from violence -than the rest of the building, being probably designed for use as a -private dwelling. - -Ascending the short flight of steps which led to the porch, he entered -the chamber on the right, which had been the Abbot’s especial retreat; -it was in that room, with its old oak wainscotting and carved ceiling, -that he had received the momentous communication which had changed the -whole course of his then future life, and accepted the trust about to -be fulfilled. - -And, as he waited, old familiar shapes seemed to gather around him, -and for one instant, he thought he saw the Abbot seated in his chair, -gazing benignantly upon him. - -He strove to pray, as the best way of driving away imaginary visions, -when he heard the clock of the town church begin to strike the midnight -hour. - -But before it had struck six times, a firm step was heard on the -stairs; it mounted higher and higher, Cuthbert knew the tread and his -heart beat lighter; another moment and Father Ambrose stood before him -in the doorway. - -“Father!” - -“Thou wert here first, then, Cuthbert my son, and hast met with no -accident by the way.” - -“How long hast thou been in the ruins, father?” - -“But just arrived from the inn where I have left my horse,--why?” - -“Because I heard a footfall.” - -“Nay, it was fancy; we will soon do our errand and depart. Has thy -journey been, like mine, uneventful?” - -[Illustration: “HE PRESSED THE CENTRE OF THE BUD SHARPLY WITH HIS -THUMB.” - -_Page 239._] - -“Not uneventful, father; Nicholas Grabber, the red-haired page at the -inn, is no more. He had played the spy over night, learnt all our -arrangements, and even the fatal secret of the chamber: had he lived we -had been lost.” - -“Didst thou slay him, then?” - -“Nay, it was the hand of God; and I am free from blood-guiltiness:” and -Cuthbert told the whole story, which we need not say Sir Walter heard -with intense interest. - -“Poor lad! we will pray for his soul as he desired; Sir John has a -heavy reckoning before him;--I wonder where _he_ is now! But, my son, -to our task; the night wears on.” - -Cuthbert well remembered the directions which the Abbot had given -him; he had written them and conned them again and again during the -intervening years. Amongst the cunning carving which yet ornamented -the wainscotting of the ruined chamber, he felt for the rose which -was fourth in order from the outer door, and third from the floor; -he pressed the centre of the bud sharply with his thumb, and the old -broken bookcase, which had been left as a fixture, not worth removing, -but broken in mere wantonness, suddenly flew open in the manner of a -door. - -How near the enemy must have been to the secret, yet the door, which -was the back of the bookcase, was ponderous, and the bolt only yielded -to the spring, which was released by the pressure upon the carved rose -many feet away. - -Thirty steps they descended, after fastening the upper door behind -them, and below the very foundations, came upon the iron one. Cuthbert -touched the spring and it slowly opened. - -“We must fasten it carefully back,” said the youth as they stood -without, “by this bolt at the bottom, which falls into the pavement -close to the adjacent wall; for did it swing to when we were within, we -should never get out till the day of doom; it shuts with a spring, and -can only be opened from without.” - -As he spoke he set the heavy door carefully back, as yet unsecured, -against the wall; they watched it with curiosity; at first it appeared -to stand still, then began slowly to move, increased speed in going, -and shut with a loud resonant clang. - -“So it was doubtless contrived in order to catch any unauthorized -intruder upon the secrets of the Abbey, who had not observed the bolt -and its purpose,” said Father Ambrose. “Secure it carefully, my son.” - -Cuthbert did so, and they entered the vault; and now the youth drew -the key, which he had kept all these long years, from the pocket in -his vest; he inserted it in the lock, the rusty wards turned with -difficulty, but with a little force yielded, and they raised the -ponderous lid until it fell back and rested against the wall. - -There, as when the Abbot shewed them years before to Cuthbert, lay the -missing treasures of the Abbey: the gemmed reliquaries, the golden and -jewelled pyxes, the chalices of solid gold, the heaps of coined money, -which a parliament, liberal in disposing of the property of others had -given to the king, only he could not get them. All this enormous wealth -had thus been saved from the tyrant’s clutch; but it will be remembered -that his disappointed avarice had aroused that animosity against the -late Abbot, which was only satiated by the life-blood of the victim. - -And beside it all, lay the yet more precious documents, rolls of -parchments, bundles of letters, deeds of gift, and the violated -charters of the Abbey. - -“We must burn all the letters,” said Father Ambrose; “such were the -Abbot’s last instructions.” - -One by one they burnt them all by the flames of their lanthorn, until -nought was left which could possibly serve as matter of accusation -against any person. - -“We may now depart, our duty done; we may borrow sufficient of this -coined gold for our present needs, incurred in its preservation; the -rest must be left until a sovereign, in communion with the Holy See, -sits again upon the throne, when it will help to restore the Abbey, -and refurnish it with sacred vessels; how long, O God, until this -tyranny be overpast?” - -They closed the lid, locked it, and left the vault, shutting the iron -door; glad were they to exchange its chilling grave-like atmosphere for -the fresh air above. - -They tarried not, but left the Abbey immediately; and at Cuthbert’s -request sought the shelter of his foster father’s cottage, where they -found the old couple awaiting them, and received the warmest welcome; -the curtains were drawn, to hide the light from the neighbours, should -any prying eyes be abroad in the darkness; fresh wood was heaped upon -the fire, a jug of mulled sack was prepared, and so they drove the cold -out of their bodies, and banished the remembrance of the icy vault. - -And afterwards they sought their warm beds and slept soundly, under -the thatched roof of the humble cot, grateful for the comfort which -providence afforded them, and happy beyond description to feel that -the difficult and dangerous task committed to them, was successfully -accomplished. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[53] See Note L. Demolition of Abbeys. - -[54] See Preface. - -[55] It was purchased for Wells Cathedral where it may still be seen. - -[56] People talk of bloated monks, and imagine them revelling in -luxuries. The expression is as just, neither more nor less, as that of -“a bloated aristocrat,” used of a gentleman by a Socialist. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -_SUUM CUIQUE TRIBUITUR._ - - -Let us leave the snug cot and return to the desolate ruins of the Abbey. - -Scarcely have the sounds of the footsteps of our two friends died -away, when another step comes along the cloisters from the opposite -direction, and after the pause of a moment it ascends the stair leading -to the Abbot’s chamber. - -Hush! the new-comer is talking to himself, soliloquizing aloud. - -“Methought I heard steps and voices, and saw from the opposite cloister -the gleam of a light in this very chamber. Nicholas has played me -false--the young hound; I shall have a rod in pickle for his back. He -should have been here to-night, to share my watch; he sent word he was -on their track, and that they were _en route_ for Glastonbury Abbey; no -doubt to visit the secret chamber, and he knew that I meant to await -him here alone, where I have had but a cold time of it, and, I fear, a -useless watch, for how can one person guard so large a place? - -“Still the secret might be worth keeping to ourselves, for I am assured -there is much gold, and if we could but surprise and slay them after -they have betrayed their secret, we might enrich ourselves and no man -the wiser, and then make our market of the parchments afterwards. -’Tis but an old man and a mere boy; Nicholas might grapple with the -young one, and willingly would, for he hates him, while I disposed of -the monk-knight, which would but cost me a thrust or two; and then if -my page were sore pressed, I might lend him a moment’s assistance, -although it would be rare sport to see him finish my precious nephew -himself, and I think he _could_, for he must be the stronger, since -he has had no confinement or torture to weaken his nerves or sap his -health, and should be the better swordsman of the two. Ah! what is -this?” - -He was trembling with excitement, not unmingled with a sensation like -fear, as he turned a dark lantern, and caused the hidden light to -reveal the entrance, which Cuthbert had unwittingly left ajar, for the -spring, rusty with damp, had failed to act. - -Down the thirty steps; down to the iron door at the bottom, first -closing the upper door. - -“I shall have the secret all to myself, not even Nicholas shall know -more than I choose to reveal; a man is his own best confidant, thanks -to the saint, or may be the devil, who has helped me. Ha! ha!” - -Suddenly he started, and a chill of terror caused the cold sweat to -stand on his brow; was that a peal of distant laughter mocking his -words? Satanic laughter? - -“I am becoming fanciful. Ah! here is the spring; no more mystery, the -door opens, I will press it back against the wall; yes it is safe, it -stands quite still.” - -He enters the vault, and passes from mortal sight for ever. - -Let us stand outside and watch that door. - -It is certainly moving, almost imperceptibly; oh, how terrible that -slight motion. It increases in speed, _vires acquirit eundo_; oh! will -no one warn the guilty wretch within of his danger. - -Clang! In that sound is the awful doom of one who is lost soul and -body,--the warning portent is explained, its fore-boding fulfilled. - -Again that low but awful peal of laughter breaks the echoes. Ah! -who shall paint the agony of the few hopeless days of darkness, -which remain to him in his icy tomb--the pangs of hunger and thirst, -delirium, and madness? - -We draw a veil over them, and bid Sir John Redfyrne a last farewell. - - * * * * * - -Upon the following morning the sun rose brightly upon the earth; so -soundly slept Sir Walter and his adopted son, that old Hodge had to -knock once or twice ere he could arouse them. - -“Look, Cuthbert,” cried Sir Walter; “the rising sun dispersing the -darkness of the night, a harbinger of better days to us; dress quickly, -commend thyself to God, and let us be stirring: for although we have -heard nought of Sir John, it may be as well to put the sea between us -and him, now our work is accomplished.” - -They occupied adjacent couches in the same room, and both had slept, -without once awaking, from the time they lay their heads on their -pillows; a sense of delicious rest, of labour achieved, had been theirs. - -And now after their thanksgivings to God, they came down to breakfast -with hot spiced wine, before a warm fire; and although the reverence -always accorded to rank in those days, made the old yeoman hesitate to -set “cheek by jowl” with a knight and Prior rolled into one, yet Sir -Walter soon put him at his ease, and the four made the last breakfast -which they were ever to share together. - -Cuthbert’s heart was too full for speech; he had cause to entertain -the warmest feelings of affection for his kind foster-parents, and now -he was leaving them perhaps for ever, for he could not hope to re-visit -England, unless a total change took place in the government and its -policy; and meanwhile the sands of life were running out for the aged -couple. - -But the last farewells had to be said; the honest yeoman brought the -two horses round to the back door; the few necessaries they had were -packed in their saddle-bags, and bidding a longing lingering last -farewell, they turned their backs upon Glastonbury, and took the road -for Lyme Regis. - -They rode leisurely, for they knew no need for special haste, and -enjoyed the invigorating and bracing air; oft-times from some eminence -they turned back, and looked over the plain of Avalon upon the lofty -Tor, with mingled feelings; it was the land-mark of home, but it was -the place where foul injustice had been wreaked upon one they had both -loved. - -Late in the evening they beheld the sea in the far distance, and soon -after nightfall entered Lyme Regis, where Cuthbert sought his uncle, -while he left Sir Walter at the inn. - -Such a journey as they had accomplished would have been difficult in -France without passports, or in any continental land until a much -later day; but in England well-dressed and respectable travellers might -travel unquestioned, in the absence of any cause to the contrary, and -take up their quarters without exciting suspicion, even in the last -days of bloody Harry. - -Cuthbert sought his “uncle,” with whom it will be remembered he had -spent the ten months after the martyrdom of the Abbot, and found him -just returned from a fishing expedition. At first the old fisherman -could not recognize the lad who had once won his affections in the -young man who stood before him, but when he did so, the warmth of the -reception was all that could be desired; he almost dragged Cuthbert to -his “aunt,” and no persuasion would induce them to let the youth return -to spend the night at the inn with Sir Walter. - -What a story had Cuthbert to tell them! “Uncle,” “aunt,” and two or -three “cousins,” stalwart young fishermen: they stood aghast with open -mouths and erected ears at his narration of the scenes at Exeter, which -were quite fresh to them, for news travelled very slowly in those days, -and even otherwise they might not have recognized Cuthbert under the -altered name. - -And when he asked their help to convey him and his adopted father -across sea, he was met by an enthusiastic reply, “Wind and tide both -serve, why not to-morrow morning, my boy; loath are we to part with -thee so soon, but thy safety is the first consideration.” - -So the following morning Sir Walter and Cuthbert, both clad in fishers’ -garb, joined the fisherman and his stalwart sons on the beach. The -largest boat, or rather sloop, was got under weigh, the wind blew -directly off shore, and soon they saw the white cliffs of Dorset, and -the red ones of Devon, which meet near Lyme Regis, receding on the -right and left. - -As they drew out to sea, and the whole coast line became visible, Hey -Tor and the moorland hills loomed in the far distance on the left, and -until they sank beneath the sea Cuthbert never took his eyes from them. - -Now all was sea and sky for many hours, until the coasts of Normandy, -about the mouth of the Seine, came into sight. And they ran the boat -up the river to the nearest point to the great Abbey of Bec, founded -by the famous Herlwin in 1034, and which had furnished two successive -Archbishops to Canterbury in the persons of Lanfranc and Anselm. - -The present Abbot had been a personal friend of Father Ambrose, and so -soon as they had bidden a kind and grateful farewell to their English -friends, the honest fishermen, who absolutely refused the offer of gold -for their services, they directed their steps to the famous Abbey. - -After a journey of some hours, they arrived safely at Bec. - -“Behold an Abbey, which God has yet preserved from the spoilers,” said -Father Ambrose, as he looked upon the glorious pile--grand as that they -had lost--and then added with a sigh, “Alas, poor Glastonbury.” - -There they met unbounded hospitality, and Father Ambrose only waited to -bestow his adopted son in the care of the Baron de Courcy, whose castle -was hard by, ere he resumed that life he had never willingly abandoned. - -The Baron de Courcy was a descendant of an old and famous Norman house, -distinguished in the days of the Conquest, when Aymer de Courcy, -refusing to share in the sports of England, retired to his Norman -estate, although he had fought at Hastings, and enjoyed the favour of -the Conqueror. - -His good qualities, well known to those who have read of them in the -“Andredsweald,” a chronicle of the house of Michelham in Sussex,[57] -had not suffered in transmission through so many generations: and our -Cuthbert found a warm reception in the Norman household. - -And so they both gained a home, each after his own heart, and the -recent trials seemed only to enhance the sweet sense of security they -now enjoyed. - - “When the shore is gained, at last, - Who will count the billows past?” - -But they had not been three months in their new homes, when tidings -arrived from England of the death of their oppressor. Henry VIII. had -passed to his last account on the early morn of the twenty-eighth of -January, fifteen-hundred and forty-seven; passed from his earthly -flatterers and parasites, who had treated him as if he were a demi-god, -to the awful judgment bar whither he had sent before him by the hands -of the executioner some seventy thousand of those subjects who had been -committed by the King of kings to his care. - -_There_, where prince and peasant, lord and slave, king and monk, are -all equal, where there is no respect of persons, we leave him and close -our tragical story. - - -FOOTNOTES - -[57] The “Andredsweald,” a tale of the Norman Conquest, by the same -author. - - - - -Epilogue. - - -Here, when I first told this story to a generation of schoolboys, long -since dispersed over the face of this busy world, I concluded my tale, -and returned to my study, but I was followed thither by some young and -eager story-devourers, who, like Oliver Twist, “asked for more.” - -“Please, sir, we want to know what became of the treasure?” - -“Oh,” said I, “I forgot to mention that in Queen Mary’s reign, Cuthbert -paid a visit to England in the train of the French Ambassador, Monsieur -de Noailles, and found an opportunity of revealing the secret to the -Queen. He was sent with some others to Glastonbury, and there they -found the mouldering skeleton of Sir John Redfyrne, keeping watch over -the chest.” - -“But how did they know who he was?” - -“The name was engraved on his sword, ‘John Redfyrne, Knight.’” - -“Did Cuthbert know that it was his uncle?” - -“Not at the time, nor for years afterwards.” - -“I fancy,” said a youngster, “Cuthbert would still have preferred the -name ‘_Trevannion_’ to ‘_Redfyrne_,’ even if he had known.” - -“But what did they do with the treasure? Was the Abbey ever rebuilt?” - -“No, for one of the conditions which the nobles, who held the Abbey -lands, exacted when Mary restored the Papal Supremacy, was, that they -should be left undisturbed in all their ill-gotten possessions: you -may be sure that the gold was applied to such uses as the last Abbot -himself would have approved.” - -“But were old Giles and his wife alive then? did they ever see Cuthbert -again?” enquired a chubby little fellow. - -“He yet lived, but the dear old dame had gone to her rest. Cuthbert’s -visit was the last gleam of joy in the good old yeoman’s well-spent -life: his foster son closed his eyes, and laid him to rest by the side -of his beloved wife.” - -“And did Cuthbert ever get the lands of Redfyrne?” - -“No, for he never claimed them, and they passed to the next of kin.” - -“But did Cuthbert have plenty of money?” cried a little fellow, -anxiously. - -“Yes, the King of France, Henry the Second, bestowed a valuable estate -upon him, close by the Abbey of Bec, with the rank of Baron, in reward -for his extraordinary valour, displayed when he led the forlorn hope -at the taking of Metz, in 1552; which city remained a French fortress -until the late Franco-German war.” - -“And did he marry that Isabel Grey of Ashburton?” - -“No, she married a fat and well-liking Devonshire squire.” - -“Poor Cuthbert; what a shame!” - -“Oh, you need not pity him; few people marry their first love; he found -ample consolation in Eveline de Courcy, daughter of the baron, had many -bright-eyed sons and daughters, and lived happy, as the story-books -say, ‘ever afterwards.’” - -“But how was it ever known who were his true parents: for it must have -been found out, or we should never have had this tale,” said an older -boy. - -“You remember the good old priest of S. Mary of the Steppes in Exeter?” - -“Yes,” cried several, “he was sent to fetch _that_ Sir John Redfyrne to -old Madge.” - -“Well, after the death of the poor old woman, he found a sealed -packet in her chamber, directed to himself, with the words, ‘To be -opened in case of my sudden death,’ which revealed the truth, but he -dared not act upon it at once, in favour of an attainted person, and -against a court favourite: he waited his time. Meanwhile, in the early -years of Edward the Sixth, the Devonshire rebellion broke out, and -suspected of being implicated therein, he fled across the seas, and -eventually, after many years, became a monk in the Abbey of Bec. There -he discovered the identity of Cuthbert, then resident at the castle of -Courcy, hard by, with the youth who so narrowly escaped the scaffold -at Exeter. Then he revealed the secret to Father Ambrose, and he to -Cuthbert.” - -“Then why did not Cuthbert claim his own?” said many at once. - -“Because he had already attained all he desired in France, and the -England of Elizabeth, much as it is lauded by many, had no attractions -for him: besides there would have been the old question of the -Supremacy to have fought out again; I am not in a position to say that -his opinions had undergone any change on that point, and otherwise he -could not have lived in peace in his native land.” - -“But he was wrong in contending for the supremacy of the Pope, was he -not?” said an incipient theologian. - -“Undoubtedly; but as a modern historian, not usually credited with -Catholic sympathies, says of the Carthusian martyrs who died for the -same belief, ‘We will not regret their cause; there is no cause for -which any man can more nobly suffer, than to witness that it is better -for him to die than to speak words which, he does not mean?’”[58] - -“What a wicked monster Henry the Eighth must have been!” - -“Yet he had, perhaps, the majority of the nation with him; and -doubtless his heart was hardened by continued prosperity and the -flattery which he breathed as his vital air. I shall never forget -the solemn thoughts which came upon me when I once stood over the -plain stone which marks his grave at Windsor: the remembrance of his -many victims, the devout Catharine, the stately Wolsey, the learned -More, the pious Fisher, the faithful monks of the Charterhouse, the -Protestant martyrs, the gallant Surrey, and a host of others. Then came -the thought, he has long since met his victims at the judgment-seat, -and he and they have been judged by One ‘too wise to err, too good to -be unkind;’ let us leave him to that judgment, which also awaits us -all. But hark, there is the Chapel bell.” - -_Exeunt omnes._ - - -FOOTNOTES - -[58] Froude, Vol. III., Cap. ix. - - - - -NOTES. - - -_Note A, P. 2._--ANTIQUITIES OF GLASTONBURY. - -The town of Glastonbury is a place, whose historical traditions stretch -back to a very remote antiquity. It was known to the early Britons -as “Inis Avalon,” or the Isle of Apples, for that fruit was said to -grow spontaneously on the rich soil. Thus Camden writes, or rather -translates an ancient ode:-- - - “O Isle of Apples; truly fortunate, - Where unforced fruit, and willing comforts meet; - For there the fields require no rustic hand, - But Nature only cultivates the land: - The fertile plains with corn and herds are proud, - And golden apples smile in every wood.” - -The cluster of hills was (as the name “Inis Avalon,” or “Insula -Avalonia,” implies) once an island, surrounded by water from the inlet, -we now call the Bristol Channel. - -It was not conquered by the English or West Saxons, until the year 658, -when Kenwalk [Cenwealh] of Wessex, defeated the Britons after a hard -fight, and drove them across the Parret, but it was Christian long -before it was English, for it is certain that it was a centre of Welsh -Christianity from the earliest times. - -Ancient legends relate that S. Philip the Apostle, anxious both to -spread the knowledge of the Gospel, and to provide for the safety of -his friend Joseph of Arimathæa, exposed to danger from the hatred of -the Jews, combined these ends by sending him to Britain with eleven -brethren, and some add that S. Mary Magdalene accompanied him. - -They were greatly tossed by the waves, and buffeted out of their -course, so that they landed on the Isle of Avalon, where Arviragus, the -king, received them kindly; and gave them permission to build a Church, -which they did, dedicating it to the Blessed Virgin, a dedication -afterwards forgotten, for it was finally dedicated to S. Joseph -himself, and under the name “Vetusta Ecclesia,” most carefully encased -with stone and preserved by subsequent architects, until the great fire -in 1184. - -It is also recorded that the landing of the Saint and his companions -took place at the northern side of Wirral Hill, at a place called in -old maps, “The Sea Wall;” the exact spot was anciently identified by -a hawthorn tree, which sprang from the staff S. Joseph struck into -the ground when he landed. Many trees propagated by grafts from this -wonderful tree still exist; they flower at Christmas in honour of the -Nativity. - -The legend adds, that S. Joseph brought with him a most priceless -treasure, “The Holy Grail,” the very chalice in which the Saviour -administered the Sacrament of His Blood. - - The Cup, the Cup itself, from which our Lord - Drank at the last sad Supper with His own; - This, from the Blessed Land of Aromat-- - After the day of darkness, when the dead - Went wandering over Moriah--the good Saint, - Arimathæan Joseph, journeying brought - To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn - Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. - - TENNYSON.--_The Holy Grail._ - -The original Chapel, built, according to tradition, by S. Joseph and -his companions, stood at the west end of the great Abbey Church. It was -60 feet long by 20 broad, and, whatever we may think of the tradition, -was doubtless one of the oldest churches in Britain; under its altar S. -Joseph was said to lie buried. - -Furthermore we are informed that the Ambassador, sent by Pope -Eleutherius in answer to the petition of King Lucius, landed here, and -revived the faith, when it was becoming decayed; but the whole legend -of King Lucius is rejected by modern historians. - -Here also it is said that S. Patrick, after the conversion of Ireland, -retired in his seventy-second year, and ruled as Abbot for thirty-nine -years, dying in the year 472, in the one hundred and eleventh year of -his age. He was buried in S. Joseph’s Chapel. - -Here also S. David, the patron Saint of Wales, is said to have ended -his days; he wished to reconsecrate the Vetusta Ecclesia, or Chapel of -S. Joseph; but our Lord appeared to him in a vision, and informed him -that HE had consecrated it Himself. - -Here King Arthur, the hero of a hundred fights, and a thousand myths, -was said to be buried with his Queen Guinevra. His heroic deeds, in the -defence of his country, against our pagan forefathers, have been sung -by many Bards of old, but by none more sweetly than by our greatest -living poet. Thus he describes the parting scene with the brave knight, -Sir Bedivere, after the hero’s last great battle with his treacherous -nephew, Mordred, at Camlen in Cornwall:-- - - “But now farewell, I am going a long way, - With these thou seest, if indeed I go, - (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt,) - To the island valley of Avilion, - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, - Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies - Deep meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns, - And bowery meadows, crowned with summer sea, - Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.” - -But the hope was vain; he went to Avalon to die. - -This story was sung by the Welsh Bards to King Henry II. on his journey -to Ireland in 1177, and interested him so deeply, that he recommended -a search for the remains, and that they should be (if found) exhumed -and re-interred in the Church, as a more fitting resting place. This -wish was carried out after that king’s death by his nephew, Henry -de Soliaco, then Abbot, in 1191, and in the spot indicated by the -Bards, the remains were found both of Arthur and his queen. Geraldus -Cambrensis, who was present, relates the scene, and says that a stone -was found with a leaden cross bearing the inscription,--“_Hic pace -sepultus rex Arthurus, in insula Avalonia_,”--and beneath it the -remains of the hero king, which were of giant proportions, and of -his queen, mingled in the same coffin. In the large skull were three -wounds, and in the cavity occupied by the queen’s remains a tress of -fair yellow hair, which being touched fell to pieces. The remains were -duly honoured by a black marble mausoleum in the Church. - -When more than eighty years had passed away, the greatest of the -Plantagenets, Edward the first, and his Queen Eleanor kept the -festival of Easter at Glastonbury, and the tomb was opened for their -inspection; when the king commanded the hallowed relics to be exposed -before the high altar, for the veneration of the people, ere they were -recommitted to their resting place; _there_ to rest, until the tyrant-- - - “Cast away like a thing defiled - The remembrance of the just.” - -We have dwelt upon these old legends, not without pleasure, as recorded -chiefly by William of Malmesbury, on the authority of a “Charter of S. -Patrick,” and an ancient British historian whose writings were then -extant, but whose name he does not hand down to posterity. - -But the Charter is pronounced by Archbishop Usher to be the forgery -of a Saxon monk, and historians in general, consider the truth of the -legends, hitherto recorded, as doubtful as those of the kings of Rome, -or of the Trojan war. - -Still, there can be little doubt in a candid mind, that these ancient -myths enshrine many facts, that in the early British times, nay in -the very infancy of Christianity, Glastonbury was a centre of light -under its earlier name, “the Isle of Avalon,” and that the site of -S. Joseph’s Chapel, or the “Vetusta Ecclesia,” is that of one of the -oldest, or perhaps _the_ oldest Christian Church in Britain. - -We have already seen that the English Conquest had advanced as far -as Glastonbury by the year 658. Sixty years afterwards, Ina, King of -Wessex, after building the first Church in Wells, by the advice of -Adhelm, Bishop of Sherborne, (in which diocese the new conquests were -incorporated until the foundation of the See of Wells by Edward the -Elder in 909,) rebuilt the monastery on the Isle of Avalon, which by -that time, owing to the subsidence of the sea, had either ceased, or -was fast ceasing to be an island; save, so far as it was encircled -by the waters of the river Brue and its tributary streams, with the -marshes they formed. So long as the English had remained heathen they -had destroyed all the Churches and monasteries they found; now that -they, the West Saxons, had become Christian they respected the Churches -and monks, and thus they became great benefactors of Avalonia, or as -the English called it, “Glæstingabyrig,” or “Glastonbury.” - -Ina died at Rome, whither he had gone, after resigning his crown, in -all the “odour of sanctity.” - -The monastery was burnt by the Danes in the following century, and -restored by the great Saint Dunstan, as described in the author’s -earlier tale, “Edwy the Fair, or the First Chronicle of Æscendune.” -Here King Edgar died, and was buried; here, as recorded in a later tale -of the writer, “Alfgar the Dane, or the Second Chronicle of Æscendune,” -the murdered Edmund Ironside was solemnly interred. - -The first Norman Bishop, was one Turstinus, or Tustain, and a testy -Abbot was he; he had a dislike to the ancient Gregorian music, and -bade his English monks sing Parisian tones; but they clung to their -old melodies; they had obeyed their foreign tyrant in other things, -but would not give up their Gregorians; so the Abbot called in Norman -soldiers to coerce the unwilling songsters, and there was a terrible -riot in the Church, for the Normans did not respect the sanctity of the -place, and slew many monks therein, so that after the conflict ended -many arrows were found sticking in the Crucifix over the high altar. - -The plain Saxon edifice of Ina looked mean to men accustomed to the -Norman abbeys, and therefore Tustain rebuilt the greater portion. - -The well known fighting Bishop, Henry of Blois, brother of King -Stephen, was appointed Abbot of Glastonbury in 1126, and Bishop of -Winchester in 1134, retaining the earlier appointment also till his -death in 1171. He rebuilt the monastery from the very foundations, -(says an old chronicler) as well as a large palace for himself. - -But in the year 1184, on the 25th of May, a terrible fire destroyed the -whole monastery, save the bell tower, and a chapel and chamber, built -by Abbot Robert (A.D. 1172). Henry the Second, then king, immediately -issued a charter, beginning with the words, “Whatsoever a man soweth -that shall he reap,” and announced, that in order to lay up treasure in -heaven, he and his heirs would restore and raise it to greater glory -than before. - -He built the Church of S. Mary, commonly called S. Joseph’s Chapel, -on the site of the Vetusta Ecclesia, with “squared stones of the most -perfect workmanship, profusely ornamented,” and it was consecrated by -Reginald the Bishop, on S. Barnabas’ Day, 1186. - -The great king only lived three more years, and after his death the -further restoration went on but slowly, so that it was not until one -hundred and nineteen years had passed away, that the great Abbey Church -of S. Peter and S. Paul, which figures in our story, was completed and -dedicated, in the year 1303, in the days of Abbot Fromont, and the -reign of Edward the First. - -The Abbey is said to have suffered grievously in the earthquake which -shook the country in the third year of Edward the first, 1274. - -The eight Abbots who succeeded in order, carried on the work of -beautifying and enlarging until Richard Beere, 1493-1524, the last -Abbot but one, finished by erecting the king’s lodgings for secular -clergy. - -Then when all was “as perfect as perfect could be,” so far as the -outward structure, came the terrible fall our story records. - - -_Note B, P. 11._--LAD AND LASS. - - “The old good wife’s well hoarded nuts - Are round and round divided, - And many lads’ and lasses’ fates - Are there that night decided; - Some kindle quickly, side by side, - And burn together trimly, - Some start away with saucy pride - And jump out o’er the chimney.” - -Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and lass to each -particular nut, as they lay them on the fire, and accordingly as they -burn quietly together, or start from beside one another, the course and -issue of the courtship will be.--_Brand’s Popular Antiquities._ - - -_Note C, P. 11._--FETCHES. - -These are the exact figures and resemblances of persons then living; -often seen not only by their friends at a distance, but many times -by themselves; of which there are several instances in Aubrey’s -Miscellanies. These apparitions are called “Fetches,” and in Cumberland -“Swarths;” they most commonly appear to distant friends and relations -at the very instant preceding the death of a person whose figure -they put on; but sometimes there is a greater interval between the -appearance and death.--_Grose_ _apud_ _Brand_. - - -_Note D, P. 25._--COUPLED BETWEEN TWO FOXHOUNDS. - -“Sir Peter Carew, being a boy at about the date of the tale, and giving -trouble at the High School at Exeter, was led home to his father’s -house at Ottery, coupled between two foxhounds.”--_Hooker’s Life of Sir -Peter Carew._ - - -_Note E, P. 31._--THE PARCHMENTS. - -The Abbot’s connection with “The Pilgrimage of Grace” has never been -proved, but it is scarcely unjust to assume, as is done in the text, -his general sympathy with the movement. Froude says it was discovered -that he and the Abbot of Reading had supplied the northern insurgents -with money. - - “Treason doth never prosper, for this reason - That if it prosper, none dare call it treason.” - -Thus, had the northern movement succeeded, it might generally be -acknowledged to be as justifiable as the similar popular risings of -1642 and 1688; it failed, and the story has been written by the victors. - - -_Note F, P. 38._--THE LAST CELEBRATION. - -The account of this last celebration is taken from the touching and -affecting narrative of Maurice Channey, a survivor of the Carthusian -monks, who suffered in 1535, _mutatis mutandis_. Locality and names -being changed, the story in the text is a narrative of facts. It will -be found in the ninth chapter of Froude’s Henry VIII. - - -_Note G, P. 73._--DEATH OF ABBOTT WHITING. - -For the purposes of the story the writer has taken some little -liberties with the traditional account of the martyrdom, which here he -supplies, beginning with the trial at Wells:-- - -“When he arrived at Wells, the old man was informed that there was an -assembly of the gentry and nobility, and that he was summoned to it, -on which he proceeded to take his seat among them, the habits of a -long and honourable life clinging to him even after his imprisonment. -Upon this the crier of the court called him to the bar to answer a -charge of high treason. “What does it all mean?” he asked of his -attendant, his memory and probably his sight and hearing having failed. -His servant replied that they were only trying to alarm him into -submission, and probably this was the opinion of most who attended -the court, as well as the jurors. “As worshipful a jury,” writes Lord -Russell to Cromwell, “as was charged here these many years.” And there -was never seen in these parts so great an appearance as were at this -present time, and never better willing to serve the king. He was soon -condemned, though he appears not to have understood what had happened, -and the next day, Nov. 15th, 1539, he was taken to Glastonbury in his -horse-litter. - -“It was only when a priest came to receive his confession as he lay, -that he comprehended the state of things; then he begged that he might -be allowed to take leave of his monks before going to execution, and -also to have a few hours to prepare for his death. - -“But no delay was permitted, and the old man was thrust out of the -litter on to a hurdle, upon which he was rudely dragged through the -town to the top of the hill which overlooks the monastery, where -he took his death very patiently, in the manner described in the -text.”--_Rev. J. H. Blunt’s Reformation of the Church of England_, p. -349-350. (From original authorities.) - - -_Note H, P. 78._--ENGLISH FARMERS. - -“My father was a yeoman and had no lands of his own, only he had a farm -of three or four pounds by the year at the uttermost, and hereupon he -tilled as much as kept half-a-dozen men. He had walk for a hundred -sheep, and my mother milked thirty kine. He was able, and did find -the king a harness with himself and his horse. I remember that I -buckled on his harness when he went to Blackheath field. He kept me to -school or else I had not been able to have preached before the king’s -majesty now. He married my sisters with five pounds or twenty nobles -each, having brought them up in godliness and fear of God. He kept -hospitality for his poor neighbours and some alms he gave to the poor, -and all this he did of the said farm.”--_Latimer’s Sermons_, p. 101. - - -_Note I, P. 93._--THE ABBEY CHURCH. - -Add this sentence accidentally omitted from the text:-- - -“There, in that desecrated spot, reposed the ashes of the mighty dead; -there, if tradition may be believed, rested the hero king Arthur, -the defender of the land against the English invasion, the hero of a -hundred fights, the subject of a thousand myths; _there_ rested the -holy bones of him who had afforded his Saviour the shelter of a tomb, -but whose own resting place was thus defiled; there lay S. Patrick, the -Apostle of Ireland; there, S. David, the patron Saint of Wales; there, -S. Dunstan, whose bones were said to have been brought hither, after -the sack of Canterbury by the Danes in 1012.[59] So highly had this -spot been reverenced, that Kings, Queens, Archbishops and Bishops, had -given large donations to the Abbey, that they might secure a resting -place amongst the hallowed dead. Here lay the mournful historian, -Gildas; here the venerated remains of the Venerable Bede; here lay King -Edmund, the victim of the assassination at Pucklechurch; here King -Edgar, the magnificent; hither, amidst a nation’s tears, they bore the -heroic Ironside to his rest--and now! ’twas enough to make an angel -weep--and a mortal wonder whether the nation had ceased to reverence -its ancient greatness; or indeed to believe in Him Who is the God to -Whom all live, whether men call them dead or not; and Who has taught -us to reverence the sleeping dust, wherein His Spirit once moved and -energized.” - - -_Note J, P. 117._--THE GUBBINGS. - -The Gubbings were a kind of gipsy race who infested Dartmoor, and who -were united in a confederation under one whom the people called the -“King of the Gubbings.” Old Fuller (p. 398) writes:-- - -“They are a peculiar of their own making, exempt from Bishop, -Archdeacon, and all authority, either ecclesiastical or civil. They -live in cotes (rather holes than houses) like swine, having all in -common, multiplied, without marriage, into many hundreds. During our -civil wars no soldiers were quartered _upon_ them, for fear of being -quartered _amongst_ them. Their wealth consisteth in other men’s goods; -they live by stealing the sheep on the moors, and vain it is for any to -search their houses, being a work beneath the pains of any sheriff, and -above the power of any constable. Such is their fleetness, they will -outrun many horses; vivaciousness, they outlive most men, living in -ignorance of luxury, the extinguisher of life. They hold together like -bees; offend _one_, and _all_ will avenge his quarrel.” - - -_Note K, P. 135._--THE BLACK ASSIZE. - -“Among the memorable events of these times, in which innocent Catholics -were everywhere made to suffer, is that which took place in the city -and university of Oxford. One Rowland Jenks (a bookseller), was -arraigned as a Catholic (for the publication of some unlicensed books -against the changes in religion), found guilty, and being but one of -the common people, was condemned to lose both his ears. But the judge -had hardly delivered the sentence, when a deadly disease suddenly -attacked the whole court; no other part of the city, and no persons, -not in the court, were touched. The disease laid hold, in a moment, -of all the judges, the high sheriff, and the twelve men of the jury. -The jurymen died immediately, the judges, the lawyers, and the high -sheriff died, some of them within a few hours, others of them within a -few days, but all of them died. Not less than five hundred persons who -caught the same disease at the same time and place, died soon after, -in different places outside the city.”--_Rushton’s Continuation of -Sanders_, Book iv., Cap ix. - - -_Note L, P. 232._--DEMOLITION OF ABBEYS. - -The reader may wonder that men should have been found, so ready to -plunder the house of God; so greedy, as the country people everywhere -showed themselves, to share in the plunder of the Church. - -The following extract from “Ellis’ Original Letters,” is much to the -point, and will at least enlighten us as to their motives, which were -of the earth, earthy:-- - -“I demanded of my father thirty years after the suppression, (that -would be in the time of Elizabeth) which had bought part of the timber -of the Church, and all the timber in the steeple, with the bell frame, -with others his partners therein (in the which steeple hung eight or -nine bells, whereof the least but one could not be bought at this day -for twenty pounds, which bells I did see hang there myself, more than a -year after the suppression), whether he thought well of the religious -persons, and of the religion then used, and he told me ‘yea,’ for he -said, ‘I did see no cause to the contrary.’ ‘Well,’ said I then, ‘how -came it to pass, you were so ready to destroy and spoil the thing that -you thought well of?’ ‘What _should_ I do,’ said he, ‘might I not, as -well as others, have some profit of the spoil of the abbey? for I did -see all moved away, and therefore I did as others did.’ Thus you may -see, as well as they who thought well of the religion then used, as -they which thought otherwise, could agree well enough, and too well, to -spoil them. Such an evil is covetousness and mammon, and such is the -providence of God to punish sinners in making themselves instruments -to punish themselves and all their posterity, from generation to -generation. For no doubt there have been millions that have repented -the thing since, but all too late.” - - -FOOTNOTES - -[59] The Canterbury folk denied this and said they had still got them; -nay, in the days of King Henry VII. the Archbishop of Canterbury -threatened to excommunicate those who venerated the “pretended relics” -at Glastonbury. - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ - - - Fairleigh Hall. A Tale of the Neighbourhood of Oxford during - the Civil Wars. _Cloth_, 3/6. - - Æmilius. A Story of the Decian and Valerian Persecution. - _Cloth_, 3/6. - - Evanus. A Tale of the Days of Constantine the Great. _Cloth_, - 3/6. - - The Camp on the Severn. A Tale of the Tenth Persecution in - Great Britain. _Cloth_, 2/0. - - The Victor’s Laurel. A Tale of the Tenth Persecution in Italy. - _Cloth_, 2/0. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY*** - - -******* This file should be named 53010-0.txt or 53010-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/0/1/53010 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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