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D. -(Augustine David) Crake</h1> -<p>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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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.</p> -<p>Title: The Last Abbot of Glastonbury</p> -<p> A Tale of the Dissolution of the Monasteries</p> -<p>Author: A. D. (Augustine David) Crake</p> -<p>Release Date: September 8, 2016 [eBook #53010]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by MWS<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto; max-width: 100%;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/lastabbotofglast00crakrich"> - https://archive.org/details/lastabbotofglast00crakrich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> - -<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">What have we here? S. Joseph help us!</span>”</p> - -<p class="right smaller"><i><a href="#Page_3">Page 3.</a></i></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="titlepage larger"><i>The<br /> -Last Abbot of Glastonbury.</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>A Tale of the Dissolution of the<br /> -Monasteries.</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>By the<br /> -REV. A. D. CRAKE, B.A.,<br /> -Fellow of the Royal Historical Society; Vicar of<br /> -Havenstreet, I.W.;</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Author of<br /> -Fairleigh Hall, The Chronicles of Æscendune, The Camp on the<br /> -Severn, etc., etc.</i></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Oxford and London:<br /> -A. R. MOWBRAY & CO.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">HISTORICAL PREFACE.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-preface.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>present</em> volume, one of the earliest of the series of -events ordinarily grouped under the general phrase “The -Reformation,” the destruction of the Monasteries.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>Glastonbury</em> and to the Prior of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And who were the witnesses? Their leader, Dr. London, -was put to penance for the most grievous incontinency, and -afterwards thrown into prison <em>for perjury</em>, 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.</p> - -<p>But this is not the place for an investigation of the subject, -nor is it one to be commended to the pure-minded reader,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span> -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.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span> -twenty-first year; but there are examples of sufferers under -this <i lang="fr">régime</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But to the writer, the following paragraph from a -deservedly popular history, appears more nearly to represent -the truth:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“The temper of such a legislator as Henry the Eighth, -and the thorough subservience, the otherwise <em>incredible</em> -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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> -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.” (<cite>Knight’s Pictorial -History</cite>).</p> - -</div> - -<p>This is strong language, but when one rises from a perusal -of the deeds committed during this reign of terror, it seems -justified.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="la">laudator temporis -acti</i>, wrote to Edward VI.:—</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>It may be most true that the monastic system, so serviceable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> This cruel law, which -was probably drawn up by Henry himself, was doubtless -aimed especially at the unfortunate monks, who unfitted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>But I have already taxed the patience of my readers; -I have promised them a tale and instead I am writing an -essay.</p> - -<p class="right">A. D. C.</p> - -<p class="smaller"><i>December, 1883.</i></p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 22 Henry VIII. Cap. 12, and 27 Henry VIII. Cap. 25.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> - -<h2>INDEX.</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr smaller">CHAP.</td><td></td><td class="tdr smaller">PAGE.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#PART_I">PART I.—The Last Abbot.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td><td><a href="#Prologue"><span class="smcap">Prologue</span></a></td><td class="tdr">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">All Hallow Even</span></a></td><td class="tdr">7</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">Retrospect</span></a></td><td class="tdr">16</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">The Secret Chamber</span></a></td><td class="tdr">27</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">The Arrest</span></a></td><td class="tdr">33</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">The Road-Side Inn</span></a></td><td class="tdr">44</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">The Trial</span></a></td><td class="tdr">55</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Glastonbury Tor</span></a></td><td class="tdr">65</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">On the Track</span></a></td><td class="tdr">74</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.—</td><td><a href="#I_CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">In the Ruins of the Abbey</span></a></td><td class="tdr">91</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#PART_II">PART II.—Cuthbert the Foundling.</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">1.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_I"><span class="smcap">The Old Manor House</span></a></td><td class="tdr">101</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">2.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_II"><span class="smcap">An Eventful Ramble</span></a></td><td class="tdr">111</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">3.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_III"><span class="smcap">An Act of Gratitude</span></a></td><td class="tdr">122</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">4.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_IV"><span class="smcap">Exeter Gaol</span></a></td><td class="tdr">135</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">5.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_V"><span class="smcap">Put to the Question</span></a></td><td class="tdr">145</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">6.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_VI"><span class="smcap">An Unexpected Disclosure</span></a></td><td class="tdr">154</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">7.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_VII"><span class="smcap">Castle Redfyrne</span></a></td><td class="tdr">164</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">8.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_VIII"><span class="smcap">Led Forth to Die</span></a></td><td class="tdr">177</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">9.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_IX"><span class="smcap">Breathing Time</span></a></td><td class="tdr">187</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">10.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_X"><span class="smcap">The Shadows Darken</span></a></td><td class="tdr">198</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">11.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_XI"><span class="smcap">An Ancient Inn</span></a></td><td class="tdr">210</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">12.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_XII"><span class="smcap">The Hand of God</span></a></td><td class="tdr">221</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">13.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_XIII"><span class="smcap">The Trust Fulfilled</span></a></td><td class="tdr">232</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">14.—</td><td><a href="#II_CHAPTER_XIV"><span class="smcap">Suum Cuique Tribuitur</span></a></td><td class="tdr">243</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td><td><a href="#Epilogue"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></a></td><td class="tdr">252</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td><td><a href="#Notes"><span class="smcap">Notes</span></a></td><td class="tdr">257</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<h2><i>ERRATUM.</i></h2> - -<p class="center"><i><a href="#Page_169">Page 169</a>, line 5, Read</i> appetens <i>for</i> appietens.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="PART_I">PART I.</h2> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger"><i>The Last Abbot.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">They built in marble; built as they</div> -<div class="verse">Who hoped these stones should see the day</div> -<div class="verse">When Christ should come; and that these walls</div> -<div class="verse">Might stand o’er them till judgment calls.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer1.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h1>THE<br /> -<span class="smcap">Last Abbot of Glastonbury</span>,<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A TALE OF THE DAYS OF HENRY VIII</i>.</span></h1> - -<h2 id="Prologue">Prologue.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Darkness descends upon the earth, as the storm -increases; it is dark everywhere, but darkest in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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?<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>would</em> be were -it not covered with snow.</p> - -<p>She approaches the tree and falls on the slope -as one who <em>can</em> do no more, who gives up the -struggle.</p> - -<p>Still she shelters the poor babe.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A dog, a shepherd’s dog, runs by his side.</p> - -<p>Will the man pass the tree?—yes <em>he</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“What have we here? S. Joseph help us! a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -woman! Why mistress what doest thou here? -Get up, or thou wilt be frozen stiff and stark -before morning.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Canst thou not move?”</p> - -<p>Another moan.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Ah, that is right; she takes courage, strives to -rise,—no, she is down again.</p> - -<p>“I cannot,” she says, “my limbs are frozen; -take the child, save my Cuthbert.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>she</em> can move no further; she -but rises to sink again on the bank, her limbs -have lost their power.</p> - -<p>“Take my child,” she says once more, “and -leave me to die; heaven is kinder than man, and -the good angels are very near.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -mile, if I run and take the babe, I may come back -and save thee.”</p> - -<p>“Go, go, for heaven’s sake, my boy <em>must</em> live, -his precious life <em>must</em> be saved, then come back for -me; he is the heir of”—</p> - -<p>Here her voice failed her.</p> - -<p>“She speaks the words of wisdom,” says Giles, -and he takes the babe, leaving the shawl wrapped -round the mother.</p> - -<p>“Nay, the shawl, take the shawl for the -babe.”</p> - -<p>“I can carry it ’neath my smock, and ’twill -come to no harm, thou wouldst die without it.”</p> - -<p>She starts up, imprints one fervent kiss upon -the babe ere it leaves her; alas, it is the last feeble -outcome of strength.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Stephen, Stephen,” shouts Giles, as he knocks -at the door.</p> - -<p>A loud and heavy barking from the throats of -deep-chested dogs.</p> - -<p>“Who is there?”</p> - -<p>“Thy old crony, Giles Hodge; open to me at -once.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - -<p>The door opens. “What Saint has sent thee -here! and a babe too?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Stephen, come directly, and help me -bring the <em>mother</em> in; she is out in the snow, spent -with toil, and if we arrive not soon she will be -<em>dead</em>.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>They reach the tree again.</p> - -<p>How still she is.</p> - -<p>Giles trembles, bless his tender heart. It is no -discredit to thy manhood, Giles.</p> - -<p>“Yes, she is dead, she has given her last kiss to -the babe.”</p> - -<p>They put together some short poles and cord -they have brought, which make a sort of litter.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/footer2.jpg" width="200" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <a href="#noteA">See Note A.</a>, Antiquities of Glastonbury.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header2.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>ALL-HALLOW EVEN.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -which had ever found congenial home at Glastonbury—piety -towards God, and love towards man.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His dress was studiously simple, yet very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -boy’s appetite, and the frosty air had sharpened -Cuthbert’s.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And about the nuts?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, lads and maidens who are in love with -each other will take two nuts, and call them <i>lad</i> -and <i>lass</i>: if they burn quietly together they -conclude that they will have a happy wedded life, -but if <i>lad</i> or <i>lass</i> 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.”<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>“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 <em>fetches</em><a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> of all the -folk who are to die this year come and choose the -place for their graves.”</p> - -<p>“I have heard the tale, and don’t believe it; it -is all nonsense, my boy.”</p> - -<p>“Anyhow I promised that I would go and see to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, my child, you must be in bed and asleep -at midnight, and I do not think you would <em>dare</em> to -try.”</p> - -<p>“That is what they said, the other boys I mean, -and they <em>dared</em> me to go.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you would catch a ghost, but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -think you would catch your death of cold, it is -freezing sharply to-night.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>their</em> ancestors. But it was -not so, there was scant difference between the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -sixteenth and eighteenth centuries in this -respect.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He counted the hours as the Abbey clock struck, -until <em>eleven</em> boomed forth, when he rose, put on -his doublet, opened the door, and went very -softly down stairs.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And as he went through the church-yard to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>He tried the door of the church; it was locked, -as usual at that hour.</p> - -<p>There was a broad bench on each side the -porch; he sat and waited.</p> - -<p>And I think he fell asleep and dreamt, but this -was the story he told.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Requiem æternam dona eis Domine, et lux -perpetua luceat eis.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And around his neck there hung a ghastly cord,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -and close by his side followed Prior and Sub-Prior, -and cords were about their necks too.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>dreamt</em> -the scene in the porch.</p> - -<p>But if it was a dream, it was not without -inspiration.</p> - -<p>Coming events cast their shadows before.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <a href="#noteB">See Note B.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <a href="#noteC">See Note C.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> An ancient inventory of the furniture of such a house lies -before the writer as he pens these lines.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>RETROSPECT.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>Their pious founders built in marble—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent10">“Built as they</div> -<div class="verse">Who hoped those stones should see the day</div> -<div class="verse">When Christ should come; and that those walls</div> -<div class="verse">Might stand o’er them till judgment calls.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The legendary history of Glastonbury has been -told by the author before,<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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; <em>there</em> King Arthur was -buried, and his body found after the lapse of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -ages; <em>there</em>, 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The discipline was somewhat severe, and the -life hard, as modern boys would think it.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>There was again another period of work in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -<em>six</em> times their number, and died fighting with -careless desperation to the last.</p> - -<p>So, even in the calm atmosphere of a monastery -school, the world intruded.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>We will now proceed with our story, after a -digression which may be easily omitted by those -who dislike to understand what they read.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The reader has, we doubt not, already identified -the hero of the midnight adventure in the church -porch, with the babe of our prologue.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But no trace was found; only the delicate -apparel of the lady, and the fine linen in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And what name shall we give him, your -reverence?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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 <em>one</em> name, a -peculiarity little commented upon where his story -was so well known.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He loved the young, one and all, and often -visited the school. He knew every face there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>talked</em> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>We will introduce them to our readers in proper -order.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well done, Gregory, well done, old fellow.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Then stood up Adam Banister, a round thick-set -youth, with brown hair and rosy face.</p> - -<p>“Good luck to thee, Banister,” was the cry.</p> - -<p>How easily he drew his ponderous bow: the -arrow whizzed—alas, only the <em>second</em> circle was -attained.</p> - -<p>And now the third champion.</p> - -<p>It is Nicholas Grabber. Let our readers mark -him, he will often figure in these pages.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -of the fox in his character; those who -believed in the transmigration of souls might -recognize the <em>retriever</em> in Gregory, the <em>bull</em> in -Banister, the <em>fox</em> in Grabber, and—well we will -leave them to designate the fourth after reading -his history, for it was Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” “Grabber!” “Cuthbert!” and -the names were repeated again and again by the -crowd.</p> - -<p>“Move the target fifty yards further, and let -them shoot yet again.”</p> - -<p>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 <em>he</em> 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.<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> However, he was -a good shot, a ringleader in boyish mischief, and -not without his friends.</p> - -<p>Again the arrows flew, but at this distance -Grabber failed the bull’s-eye, just alighting on the -rim.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p>A few moments of breathless anticipation, and -Cuthbert’s shaft, soaring through the air, attains -the very centre, amidst shouts of wonder and -admiration.<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>Grabber turned away disgusted, as Cuthbert -advanced to receive the silver arrow from the -chief forester, who superintended the “buttes.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/footer4.jpg" width="200" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> See “Edwy the Fair,” and “Alfgar the Dane,” by the -same author.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> <a href="#noteD">See Note D.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> A far more remarkable instance of English archery is given -in Scott’s “Anne of Geirstein.”</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE SECRET CHAMBER.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Threading various passages, they reached the -Abbot’s lodgings, and there the messenger knocked -and retired, leaving Cuthbert to obey the summons, -“<em>Enter</em>.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He was now but a weak and infirm old man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“My son,” he said, “I have somewhat to say -to thee ere perchance I be taken from thee.”</p> - -<p>“Taken from me, Father?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert looked amazed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The Abbot took up a little chest from the -sideboard.</p> - -<p>“Thou hast long been <em>my</em> son, and hast not -needed thy natural parents, but dost thou not -oftentimes wonder who they were?”</p> - -<p>“They come to me in dreams.”</p> - -<p>“And as yet <em>only</em> in dreams, my child; perchance -thou art an orphan, but in that chest are -the few relics of thy poor mother, which we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“But what use would they be to me didst thou -leave me alone in the world, Father?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>To Cuthbert’s surprise there stood Nicholas -Grabber.</p> - -<p>“Quid vis fili?” was the Abbot’s interrogation.</p> - -<p>“The lay brother Francis said that thou -wantedst me.”</p> - -<p>“It was an error, I sent for Cuthbert, and he -is here. Pax tecum, go to rest.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -with this ring, which thou now seest on my finger; -it will not be till I am gone.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Shut the door carefully, and draw the bolt.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert did so.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The wainscotting of the room was divided into -small squares; in each one a rose—S. Joseph’s -rose—formed the centre.</p> - -<p>“The third and the fourth, canst thou remember?”</p> - -<p>“Third from the floor, fourth from the door.”</p> - -<p>“Now press the centre of the bud sharply with -thy thumb.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert did so, and a bookcase, which seemed -a fixture in the wall, and which none could have -suspected to have been aught <em>but</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“Follow me,” said the Abbot, as he took a lamp -and descended the steps.</p> - -<p>Thirty steps down, and as the Abbot’s room -was on the ground-floor, they must have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert turned the lock, raised the ponderous -lid, and let it rest against the wall behind, then -gazed upon the contents.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>parchments</em>, the <em>letters</em>. 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.<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> I need not detail -their nature to thee, nor why I may not destroy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -them now. The secret thou hast learned is not -for thee, thou wilt keep it until the arrival of the -hour and the man.”</p> - -<p>“His name?”</p> - -<p>“I will but tell thee this much, he will be -known to thee as the Father Ambrose.”</p> - -<p>“Have I never yet met him?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <a href="#noteE">See Note E.</a></p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE ARREST.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-n.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -such it was to them, gave outward obedience, and -in their hearts prayed fervently that “this tyranny -might be over past.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was the sixteenth Sunday after Trinity, in -the year of grace 1539.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -know that ye all, among whom I have gone -preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face -no more.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>Here a common utterance broke forth from the -brethren which could not be suppressed.</p> - -<p>“Let us die together in our integrity, and -heaven and earth shall witness for us how -unjustly we be cut off.”</p> - -<p>“Would that it might be even so,” continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -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?”</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> 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.’”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -the choir sat as if astonished, yet rejoicing in the -token, as they believed it was, of God’s presence -amongst them.</p> - -<p>And the burden of the song seemed, “O rest in -the Lord, wait patiently on Him.”</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In an old oak-panelled apartment sat the once -powerful Abbot, writing calmly a few parting -directions, chiefly concerning the disposal of such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -personal property as might serve as mementoes to -those who loved him, when they should see his -face no more.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>In the window seat, his eyes fixed upon the -road which led from the Abbey, sat Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he rose hastily.</p> - -<p>“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 <em>our</em> sakes, for <em>my</em> sake—thy -adopted child.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>After a pause he continued,—</p> - -<p>“Dost thou see them plainly? Who is their -guide?”</p> - -<p>“Shame upon him, it is Nicholas Grabber; -rather should they have cut my feet off than have -forced me to do the like.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nay, my child, I left word where I was, and -strict directions that no concealment should be -attempted.”</p> - -<p>“Yet some other guide were more fitting than -one of thine own children, shame upon him. Oh, -my more than father, <em>do</em> 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?’”</p> - -<p>“Too late, my son, they are at the gate.”</p> - -<p>“We will hide thee; there must be some place -to hide in here, some secret chamber.”</p> - -<p>“They are on the stairs, my son; do not let -them see thee weep, be manly.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert strove to repress his emotion and to -maintain outward composure, when the door -opened and three men entered, rude of aspect.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What are they?” said the Abbot, calmly.</p> - -<p>“Hast thou taken the Oath of Supremacy?”</p> - -<p>“I have, to my great sorrow.”</p> - -<p>“To his great sorrow, mark that, Master -Pollard; and why to thy great sorrow?”</p> - -<p>“Because it was a treason to the Church.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Then thou wilt not renew it?”</p> - -<p>“Never.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I am not fain to answer thee on that matter.”</p> - -<p>“But the law enables us to <em>compel</em> 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.”<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>“Construe my silence as treason if thou wilt, I -have naught to say on the matter.”</p> - -<p>“There is something more for <em>me</em> 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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -which men call the Pilgrimage of Grace, are -known to thee, only reveal the secret, and thou -art safe.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>“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, <em>I</em> say also.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, thou young cockatrice, we see well what -a dam hath hatched thee—another treason to the -account of the wily priest here.”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert,” said the Abbot, “thou art running -into needless danger—God calls thee not to -suffer.”</p> - -<p>“What is good for <em>thee</em>, Father, must be good -for me also.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We may as well take him up to town too,” -said Master Pollard.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Need we say they searched in vain.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> -<img src="images/footer5.jpg" width="175" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> <a href="#noteF">See Note F.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> 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 <em>in -words</em> to the royal supremacy; it made it treason not -only to <em>speak</em> against the king’s prerogatives, but even to -“<em>imagine</em>” anything against them. “Malicious silence,” -which was assumed to imply such evil <em>imaginations</em>, was to be -interpreted as treason and punished by death. See Perry’s -History of English Church, p. 112-3.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE ROAD-SIDE INN.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">The evening of Tuesday, the -twelfth of November, in the year -of grace fifteen hundred and -thirty-nine, was closing in.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?”</p> - -<p>A large chestnut-tree has dropped its fruit on -the ground, and amidst the dead leaves the lads<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“It is time to be moving,” says Cuthbert; -“we promised the Prior to be home in time -to sing vespers.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Well, thank God, there will not be many -more services in the Abbey; I am for <em>freedom</em>, -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.”<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>“More shame for you to say so, after you -have been educated at the cost of the Abbey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -and eaten and drunk its fare for many years,” -said Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>“And poor fare I have found it: I daresay -the Abbot’s favourites get better,” replied -Nicholas.</p> - -<p>“‘Abbot’s favourites,’ what do you mean?” -said Cuthbert, colouring.</p> - -<p>“Let those who find the cap fit, put it on.”</p> - -<p>“He means it for <em>you</em>, Cuthbert,” said two -or three voices at once.</p> - -<p>“I suppose one can’t help being liked,” said -Gregory Bell.</p> - -<p>“Nay, but one should not curry favour at the -expense of others.”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t fair,” cried Adam Banister; “no -one can say Cuthbert is a sneak.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>A general burst of laughter, and then Nicholas -lost all self-control, and struck Cuthbert in the -face.</p> - -<p>“A blow!” “A fair blow!” “A fight!” -“A fight!”</p> - -<p>Yes, a fight was inevitable under the circumstances; -according to the moral (or immoral)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>He advanced to Grabber who was supported -on the knee of his second.</p> - -<p>“Give me your hand, Nicholas, and let us -forgive and forget. I hope you are not much -hurt.”</p> - -<p>Grabber sullenly refused.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>And the majority shared his opinion.</p> - -<p>“We must make haste out of the woods, or -we shall lose our way and be here all night.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -about lost, utterly lost, until a distant light -gladdened their eager sight, and with a joyous -cry they bent their course towards it.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But while they were there a body of armed men -entered the house.</p> - -<p>They wore the uniform of the King’s guard: -there was no regular army in those days, every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>And these were some of them.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“He has not yet returned from London?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“I am a friend to the King.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Has he not been tried and acquitted?”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>regular trial</em>.”<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<p>“On what charge?”</p> - -<p>“Robbing the Abbey Church.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens!”</p> - -<p>“Why, I thought thee a friend of the King.”</p> - -<p>“So I am, but what can all this mean?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But it was his own.”</p> - -<p>“Only in trust, you see.”</p> - -<p>“Still he might hide it in trust for the Abbey, -that would not be robbery.”</p> - -<p>“Friend, I should advise thee to <em>consider</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>The boys stole out unobserved.</p> - -<p>“What shall we do?”</p> - -<p>“Go and meet the Abbot and warn him, he will -pass Headly Cross.”</p> - -<p>“But then we may but share his fate,” said -several.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I shall go if I go alone,” said Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>“And so shall I,” said Gregory Bell.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But as there was a choice of routes, and the -Abbot might come <em>either</em> way, it was the right -thing to await him where the roads converged.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Cuthbert dashed forward. “My Lord Abbot,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -he said, “one moment, it is I, Cuthbert, and here -is Gregory Bell.”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert and Gregory Bell; why are you -here, boys?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“On what charge?”</p> - -<p>“Concealing the Abbey plate.”</p> - -<p>The Abbot smiled sadly.</p> - -<p>“My children,” he said, “this can hardly be -true, yet if it <em>be</em> as you say, I will not fly a jury of -my countrymen.”</p> - -<p>“Neither could he,” said the stranger on his -left hand, “if he <em>would</em>; my duty is to see him safe -to Glastonbury, unless relieved beforehand by -royal authority.”</p> - -<p>“You see, my Cuthbert and Gregory, that your -devotion is all in vain; neither <em>would</em> I avail -myself of it if I <em>could</em>. 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.”</p> - -<p>“It never will be, never will be,” said Cuthbert, -with sinking heart.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>“My Lord Abbot, we arrest you in the King’s -name.”</p> - -<p>“On what charge?”</p> - -<p>“Robbery of the Abbey Church.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>And the Abbot yielded himself peacefully to -those who sought his life.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer7.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Advantage was taken of the Abbot’s compulsory absence -to take the necessary steps for the dissolution of the -monastery. (Froude.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> 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 -<em>executed</em> there with his accomplices.” The trial, however, -took place at Wells, the execution (a foregone conclusion) at -Glastonbury, as related in the story.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE TRIAL.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What say you, Richard Whiting, guilty or -not guilty?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“It is not meet for a prisoner to revile his -judges,” said Russell; “as an Englishman you -are bound by the Acts of Parliament.”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>guilt</em>, and -I plead in that sense, ‘Not Guilty.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Thou showest but little wisdom in pressing -thine own opinion against the consent of the -realm.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Of whom art thou speaking?”</p> - -<p>“Of all the good men present.”</p> - -<p>“Why hast thou persuaded so many people -to disobey the King and Parliament?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, I have sinned in dissembling my -opinions, but now I <em>will</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>He sank upon the bench behind him, as did his -fellow prisoners, and none of them took any -further obvious interest in the proceedings.</p> - -<p>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, <em>the</em> -difference of opinion only existed as to the guilt -thereof.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -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.”<a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> - -<p>A dead silence followed, broken at last by the -Abbot’s voice.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A youth, repulsed from the door which gives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>A companion pressed up to his side.</p> - -<p>“Will they not let you in?”</p> - -<p>“No, Gregory, I have begged in vain these -three times.”</p> - -<p>“Why not try the sheriff, he is said to be -merciful?”</p> - -<p>“I can but try, I will go to his house at once.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He was resting after the fatigues of the day, -and in truth, thinking very uneasily over the -events of the trial.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>A domestic entered—“A lad craves a moment’s -speech.”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?”</p> - -<p>“I know him not, but he has been weeping -bitterly, as one may see by his face.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, my lad,” said he, as Cuthbert entered, -“what is the matter now?”</p> - -<p>“I have a boon to crave, your worship; you -will not refuse it me?”</p> - -<p>“Let me first hear what it is.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Wicked hands, my lad, you forget yourself, -and where you are.”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me, I meant no offence; I know it -is no fault of your worship.”</p> - -<p>“It is but a slight boon, after all,” said the -sheriff, “and one which <em>may</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“May I not stay longer?”</p> - -<p>“It would not be kind to those who are to die; -they need their time to make their peace with God.”</p> - -<p>“That is already made, your worship.”</p> - -<p>“I trust so,” said the sheriff, with a sad -faint smile at the boy’s earnestness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Who art thou, my lad?” he said.</p> - -<p>“The Abbot’s adopted son.”</p> - -<p>“But who were your real parents?”</p> - -<p>“I know not.”</p> - -<p>“What name do they call you?”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert, I have none other.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 275px;"> -<img src="images/footer6.jpg" width="275" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Lingard v. 19.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> This terrible sentence is copied from the form in actual -use until the present century.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>GLASTONBURY TOR.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-a.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -the wall hung a crucifix, and there, with their -faces towards the memorial of the martyrdom -which redeemed a world, knelt the three.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They rose slowly from their devotions, and the -Abbot grasped Cuthbert’s hands and raised him -from the floor.</p> - -<p>“My child,” he said, “dost thou grieve for me?”</p> - -<p>A sob was the only answer.</p> - -<p>“Listen, my child, which is best, heaven or -earth, Paradise or Glastonbury?”</p> - -<p>Still no answer.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But the shame, the disgrace!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 -<i lang="la">via Dolorosa</i> of a brief hour, but from the gibbet we -shall scale the skies. For <em>thee</em>, my son, is the life-time -of trial and temptation, wherefore I pray for -thee, and <em>will</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“By God’s help I will endure.”</p> - -<p>“I believe that thou wilt strive, yea, and prevail. -But <em>one</em> more thought to earthly things, and -I resign the world for ever. Thou rememberest -the secret chamber?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I do, Father.”</p> - -<p>“And the ring which is now on the finger of -him who shall claim thy promise?”</p> - -<p>“Well, my Father.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, think not of that.”</p> - -<p>“I <em>have</em> thought of it, and now, my child, thou -mayest again join us in prayer.”</p> - -<p>“The half-hour has passed,” said a rough voice -at the door.</p> - -<p>“Thy blessing, Father.”</p> - -<p>“It is thine, my child: Benedicat et custodiat -te Deus omnipotens, Pater, Filius, et Spiritus -Sanctus, nunc et in sæcula sæculorum.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -saw rest upon it; hard by stands a caldron of -pitch, which but awaits the kindling match to -boil and bubble.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Here they come.”</p> - -<p>The trampling of horse, a train of strong -wooden hurdles, each drawn by a single horse, -appears; hard carriages these on which to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -the ride to eternity, but many an innocent victim -has fared no better.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Prior and Sub-Prior submit to the same -painful restraint, and the <i lang="la">via Dolorosa</i> is entered.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="la">via Dolorosa</i> which led to Calvary, -and accept the pain for the sake of the -Divine Sufferer, in Whom our sufferings are -sanctified.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Up the hill with labouring steps the horses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -tread: at length the rounded summit appears, and -the gibbet looms in sight.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>habits</em> to die without being first -stripped of their robes, and degraded. There is a -meaning in this, it is not of mercy.<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> - -<p>The Abbot yields himself first, calmly reciting -the words of the 31st Psalm, “In manus tuas, -Domine, commendo Spiritum meum.” The <em>two</em> -pray for him until their own turn comes.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Their faces did not grow pale, neither did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>So one after the other they suffered—we spare -the reader the sickening details, which Englishmen -could <em>look</em> on in those days, and which innocent -men were called upon to suffer, but which we -shudder even to read.</p> - -<p>But we will conclude with a letter written -by Lord Russell to Cromwell on the 16th of -November, being the day following the tragedy.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“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.”<a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -plain which was once a sea, a hill which was once -an island. This is Glastonbury Tor.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer7.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> “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.”—<cite>Blunt.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> This letter is authentic, spelling and all.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> <a href="#noteG">See Note G.</a> Death of Abbot Whiting.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>ON THE TRACK.</i></span></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“We grieve not o’er our abbey lands, e’en pass they as they may,</div> -<div class="verse">But we grieve because the tyrant found a richer spoil than they;</div> -<div class="verse">He cast aside, as a thing defiled, the remembrance of the just,</div> -<div class="verse">And the bones of saints and martyrs he scattered to the dust.”</div> -<div class="verse right"><cite>Neale.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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 <em>some</em> -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.</p> - -<p>Such was the value of the noble library at -Glastonbury that Leland, an old English antiquarian,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Four months had passed away since the -tragical events recorded in our last chapter, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Each morning saw some work begun</div> -<div class="verse">Each evening saw its close.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The change of scene had wrought good. The -poor boy had gone there broken-hearted, and -suffering from the nervous excitement which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> - -<p>Old Giles could not write, he only sent word by -his envoy, “Come home, I have seen the ring, -he expects thee to-morrow.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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,<a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The latch lifted, and their parish priest entered, -Doctor Adam Tonstal.</p> - -<p>“Good even to you, my worthy friends; I have -come for a chat with you about a matter of -importance.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing amiss about Cuthbert, I hope,” said -the old dame, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“No, there is naught amiss, <em>yet</em> still my errand -is about him. Are you not expecting him -home?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, thank God, this very night; we thought -when you knocked that it was he.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But why,” inquired Giles, aghast, as soon as -he could get a word in; “what harm hath the -poor lad done?”</p> - -<p>“Harm, forsooth!” then lowering his voice, -“what harm had Richard Whiting done?”</p> - -<p>“But Cuthbert is too young to be answerable -for such weighty matters.”</p> - -<p>“I know <em>that</em>, 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.”</p> - -<p>“They would indeed be weighty secrets, which -the Abbot would entrust to a mere boy.”</p> - -<p>“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.<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p>“We are alone, my wife and I, and we be no -tale-bearers.”</p> - -<p>“Well then, it is said that there must be a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“Quite sure, don’t fear; but what has this to do -with Cuthbert?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“As I live,”—said Giles.</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“But they can lay no <em>crime</em> to his charge, to -know a secret is no crime.”</p> - -<p>“But they <em>may</em>, and probably <em>will</em> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -see what the thumb-screw, or failing that, even -the rack, may effect.”</p> - -<p>“Good heavens! Saint Joseph forbid.”</p> - -<p>“Amen; but the best way is to keep Cuthbert -out of the way.”</p> - -<p>“Too late; for here he is!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Not if he is unseen, and the news of his -coming has not got abroad.”</p> - -<p>“Did anyone see thee, child, as thou enteredst -the town?”</p> - -<p>“Alas, I fear <em>one</em> did; Nicholas Grabber was -hanging about the gate on the common.”</p> - -<p>“Nicholas Grabber; then, my boy, thou must -not tarry an hour; it is he who hast already -betrayed thee.”</p> - -<p>“Betrayed me! how?” said Cuthbert, alarmed.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -Abbot’s chamber that eventful night, when the -secret was revealed to him.</p> - -<p>“You are right, Father,” he said, “I must go.”</p> - -<p>“Too late!” said the priest, “too late!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hide him,” said the good man; “I will keep -them at bay for a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>And the old people hurried Cuthbert out of the -room.</p> - -<p>“The back door,” said the boy.</p> - -<p>“Nay, that is watched too; I hear them -whispering without.”</p> - -<p>“Then I am lost.”</p> - -<p>“No! no! my boy,” said the old woman, -“come up stairs, and get into the loft.”</p> - -<p>They went hastily up the stairs, into the old -people’s bedroom.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>The loft was often used for the storage of fruit, -corn, <em>flax</em>, and the like, and there was a quantity -of the latter material stored therein; on this -Cuthbert lay.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the priest below fulfilled his task.</p> - -<p>“Who are ye, disturbing an honest family after -curfew?”</p> - -<p>“Officers of the law, constables; open, in the -name of the law.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“<em>Open</em>, or we will break down the door.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, and thou come to <em>that</em> game, there be -those within, good at the game of quarter staff; -meanwhile we will blow the horn and rouse the -watch.”</p> - -<p>“Thou old fool, we will break thy bones, as -well as the door; we tell thee <em>we</em> are the constables—the -watch.”</p> - -<p>“’Tisn’t old Hodge’s voice,” said another; “ask -the fellow who he is.”</p> - -<p>“Who art thou, fool?”</p> - -<p>“That is for wise men like thee to find out.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I fear me, friend, thou art taking the names<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Break open the doors,” cried the two impugned -worthies, in a rage.</p> - -<p>“I will loose the mastiff upon you.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At that instant old Hodge appeared, and signifying -by a sign all was right, cried aloud—</p> - -<p>“What are you doing at my door?”</p> - -<p>“Breaking it down, with a search warrant for -our justification.”</p> - -<p>“Thou mayst save thyself the trouble; I have -nought here to hide;” and the old man withdrew -the bars.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The two constables whom he had so grievously -aspersed fixed their eyes upon the priest.</p> - -<p>“So it was thou, was it, who kept us -waiting?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Your pardon, if I mistook you; doubtless you -have good cause for your untimely errand.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Why, he has been away ever since November.”</p> - -<p>“But came home to-night; here is the witness. -Nick Grabber, when didst thou last see Cuthbert -Hodge?”</p> - -<p>“This evening, riding with another lad through -the common gate, on the Langport Road.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We have no time for all this nonsense,” -said the head constable, “where is this -youngster?”</p> - -<p>“Since you say he is here, you had better find -him.”</p> - -<p>“He has not gone out by the back door,” said -Grabber.</p> - -<p>“Or you would have grabbed him.”</p> - -<p>“Even so, with right good will.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Nicholas, “the scent is hot, the old -lady gives tongue.”</p> - -<p>A board was withdrawn, chests piled beneath, -and John Sprygs cried out, “Now, young Nick, -you go and grab him.”</p> - -<p>“After you,” said Nicholas, who remembered -the weight of his young opponent’s fist that night -in the woods.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>John Sprygs mounted, and was no sooner in -the loft than he cried,—</p> - -<p>“The place is as dark as pitch, pass me up the -torch.”</p> - -<p>“Nay! nay!” cried Giles Hodge, “the place -is full of flax.”</p> - -<p>“We will take care of that; thou dost not -want thy precious brat found.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Come down, come down,” called out the -appalled voices below.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -timber, so they saw in a few minutes that there -was nothing for it but to help the aged couple to -save their furniture.</p> - -<p>But what of Cuthbert? they had forgotten -him, for the time, then they said,—</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer1.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Multiply by twelve for the modern equivalent. <a href="#noteH">See Note H.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> A priest of Chichester, named Christopherson, suffered -death for saying that the king would be damned for the -destruction of the monasteries.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="I_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>IN THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-n.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Cuthbert, “only take care of <em>them</em>,” -and he retraced his steps to the Abbey.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> - -<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">The Boy darted away for the Abbey.</span>”</p> - -<p class="right smaller"><i><a href="#Page_92">Page 92.</a></i></p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></p> - -<p>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,<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>unlikely</em>; there were but few -who would harm him, and they were off the -scent.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Requiem æternam dona eis Domine et lux -perpetua luceat eis.”</p> - -<p>Then followed the words of the psalm:—</p> - -<p>“Te decet hymnus Deus in Syon, et tibi -reddetur votum in Jerusalem.”<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Whom then were they burying? for whom did -they chant the requiem Mass?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<p>And now the epistle was read, and afterwards -the solemn sounds of the sequence arose:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Dies iræ Dies illa</div> -<div class="verse">Solvet sæclum in favilla</div> -<div class="verse">Teste David cum Sibylla.”<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>He hesitated no longer, he glided down the -stairs, and soon his boyish voice was heard in the -sweet verse:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Recordare Jesu pie</div> -<div class="verse">Quod sum causa tuæ viæ</div> -<div class="verse">Ne me perdas illa die.”<a name="FNanchor_27a" id="FNanchor_27a"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>As he sang Cuthbert saw he stood by the good -parochus.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -body shall unite with the redeemed regenerate -soul, and soar from death’s cold house to life and -light.”</p> - -<p>He was interrupted by a sob (it was from -Cuthbert), but he went on.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He who appeared the leader of the party, now -approached Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>“My son,” he said, “dost thou know this -ring?”</p> - -<p>“I do,” and Cuthbert bent the head.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p class="center"><i>End of the First Part.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 135px;"> -<img src="images/footer3.jpg" width="135" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> <a href="#noteI">See Note I.</a> The Abbey Church.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> The Six Articles became law the same year, enforcing -nearly all Roman doctrine.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual -light shine upon them.</p> - -<p>Thou, O God, art praised in Sion, etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> 398, Hymns A. and M.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Day of wrath, O day of mourning.”</div> -<div class="verse">“Think, good Jesu, my salvation, etc.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="PART_II">PART II.</h2> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<p class="center larger"><i>Cuthbert the Foundling.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/wavy_line.jpg" width="400" height="20" alt="Decorative wavy line" /> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse indent6">O fair Devonia!</div> -<div class="verse">Land of the brave and leal, how bright thy skies!</div> -<div class="verse">How fresh do show thy rich and verdant meads!</div> -<div class="verse">How clear the streams! which from thy hills do run:</div> -<div class="verse">How grim the tors! which granite rocks do crown:</div> -<div class="verse">How sweet the glens! whose depths the forest hides:</div> -<div class="verse">How blue the seas! which ruddy rocks do bound:</div> -<div class="verse">Fain would I seek amidst such beauty—rest:</div> -<div class="verse indent3">And bid the world—Adieu.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<img src="images/footer10.jpg" width="350" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a><br /><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE OLD MANOR HOUSE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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 -<em>once</em> seen, recurs again and again to the memory, -while life lingers.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I know every foot of it, my Boniface, and so -does my steed; never fear for us.”</p> - -<p>“It will be dark early, and perhaps wet; look -at that cap of mist upon Hey Tor.”</p> - -<p>The youth glanced at the little cloud. “I -shall be home before it descends,” he said; -“Good night, landlord,” and he rode quickly away.</p> - -<p>“Who is yonder stripling?” said a dark-browed -stranger, as the landlord re-entered the inn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And how do you name him?”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert Trevannion, some day to be <em>Sir</em> -Cuthbert, when Sir Walter, now past his fiftieth -year, is gathered to his fathers.”</p> - -<p>“And this Sir Walter, what was he doing in -<em>his</em> father’s life-time?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“And the son—does he confine himself much -to the hall?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he hunts and hawks like other young -men, only he keeps somewhat to the home preserves, -and seldom shows abroad.”</p> - -<p>“Are there any other children?”</p> - -<p>“No, this is the only child.”</p> - -<p>“And the mother?”</p> - -<p>“Died before Sir Walter came home.”</p> - -<p>“What year was that?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot remember—but——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Go to, refresh thy memory with a cup of -thine own best sack at my expense, it is before -thee on the table.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I think it was in forty.”</p> - -<p>“And this youngster seems about twenty years -old; he would have been a boy of fourteen then.”</p> - -<p>“Your worship has some interest in him?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, only a passing recollection.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We will leave the worthies to their talk, and -follow the traveller.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -carved architrave, or shattered column; but we -are writing of days long gone by.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>“Is my father at leisure?”</p> - -<p>“The supper bell has just sounded.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -them <em>tolerable</em>, had been taken away, so far as the -power of the crown extended.</p> - -<p>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 -<em>son</em> to follow him into the study.</p> - -<p>But it is time that we drop the mask, and -explain ourselves.</p> - -<p>Cuthbert Trevannion, now so called, <em>was</em> 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;<a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -only tyrant upon record, who had the privilege of -persecuting both sides at once.</p> - -<p>The inn-keeper’s account of Sir Walter was -true so far as it went; we will supply the necessary -details.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And there Cuthbert’s education had been -completed; when we reintroduced him to our -readers he was already in the bloom of early -manhood.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> - -<p>Similarly those six years of Cuthbert’s past life -would have no interest for the reader, but they -had been happy ones to him—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The torrent’s smoothness ere it dash below.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>And often in later years did he recall them with -regret.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="la">dramatis -personæ</i>.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer7.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> “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?</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>AN EVENTFUL RAMBLE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-c.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">“Cuthbert, my son,” said Sir -Walter, “thou hast brought -letters from the town.”</p> - -<p>“Here they are, father,” said -Cuthbert, producing a packet -which bore the traces of a long journey, “letters -from across the sea.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Nor, father, have I forgotten that in this -world we must learn to fence, wrestle, shoot, -and if need be, fight.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The old man looked eagerly on the youth, -but no answering response met his gaze.</p> - -<p>“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,<a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> 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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert’s face brightened now—this was the -lot which he desired.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Father, dear father, believe me no ingrate;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I do choose it, since you leave it to me, yet -I grieve to cross thy will.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“When shall we travel?”</p> - -<p>“I have engagements which detain me here -for another week, then we shall set out; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -blocks which form the summit of Hey Tor, are -gained.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -separates the two wooded, rock-strewn valleys, -Lustleigh and Becky, just before they unite in -one beautiful vale, above Bovey Tracey.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He is awoke by the murmur of voices.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“He will pay for knocking on the head!”</p> - -<p>“Jack will expect his share when the deed -is done.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” said another voice, “no throat cutting -or head splitting, if it can be done without.”</p> - -<p>“Thou hast become scrupulous, Tony; hast -thou forgotten the colour of blood?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, as I am a true Gubbing,<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Dead men tell no tales.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we must be moving, he was to start -at six.” And soon Cuthbert heard them climb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>They had gone to beset the pass higher up.</p> - -<p>So soon as the sound of their footsteps had -ceased, Cuthbert descended or rather <em>slid</em> down -the hill into the road beneath, behind the men, -and in spite of his fatigue, walked rapidly back -towards Bovey.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Stand,” cried Cuthbert, “I would fain speak -with you, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Who is this, who cries ‘stand’ upon the -King’s highway?”</p> - -<p>“A friend, one who would save you, Sir John, -if you be Sir John; danger lurks ahead; three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -cut-throats, ‘Gubbings,’ they call them about -here, a half-gipsy brood, lie in wait at the pass, -and lurk for your life.”</p> - -<p>“How sayest thou, my lad? Look, sirrah, -what sayest thou to this?”</p> - -<p>But the treacherous groom had heard all, and -rode on at full gallop, barely escaping a pistol-shot -his indignant employer sent after him.</p> - -<p>“He will bring them back in no time: take -the lower road.”</p> - -<p>“And thou, my poor lad, they will avenge -themselves on thee.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, I know every turn in the woods; I can -run home.”</p> - -<p>“Sore uneasy should I be for thee. Ah, see, -the rogues appear, they heard the shot.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Jump behind, thou canst ride ‘pillion.’”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>After a little while Sir John said—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I think we may now take our ease; thou hast -saved my life, lad, and I shall not forget it. What -is thy name?”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert Trevannion; and thine, sir?”</p> - -<p>The rider started perceptibly as he heard the -name, and Cuthbert noticed it. After a moment -he said, with emphasis—</p> - -<p>“Sir John Redfyrne, a poor knight of his -sacred majesty’s household.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert remembered the name too well, and -his earnest desire was to get away without any -further revelations.</p> - -<p>“I have lately come from Glastonbury,” said -Sir John; “dost thou know the place?”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert could not lie. “I have been there,” -he said.</p> - -<p>“There was some talk of a lad of thy name -when I first knew the town, who was educated -at the Abbey.”</p> - -<p>“It may be, sir; but see, that road will take -me home, and there is no danger now; may I -dismount?”</p> - -<p>“Not just yet; here is a roadside inn, thou -must at least grace me with thy presence over -a cup of sack.”</p> - -<p>“But my father will be uneasy.”</p> - -<p>“I will answer for him.”</p> - -<p>Not to increase Sir John’s suspicions, Cuthbert -dismounted at the inn, and allowed himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -to be led into a private chamber. Sir John -waited for a moment, and descended the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Dost thou know that youth?” he asked of -the landlord.</p> - -<p>“The son of Sir Walter Trevannion.”</p> - -<p>“He lives near here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, at Trevannion Hall.”</p> - -<p>He returned to Cuthbert.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I may go then, sir?”</p> - -<p>“With my best thanks; nay, wear this chain -as a memento of the giver and the Gubbings; -fare thee well.”</p> - -<p>And Cuthbert hastened home.</p> - -<p>But Sir John remained yet a little while, seated -in the saddle, as he made several innocent enquiries -of the landlord.</p> - -<p>And they were all about Trevannion Hall.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> -<img src="images/footer8.jpg" width="175" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Read “The Andredsweald,” by the same Author. -(Parker’s Oxford.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> <a href="#noteJ">See Note J.</a> The Gubbings.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>AN ACT OF GRATITUDE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-s.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -playing, and the like; that each might be a -soldier in time of need.</p> - -<p>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.”<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> - -<p>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;<a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> -the ladies made the pastry with their own fair -hands.</p> - -<p>The doors stood open to all comers at the -hours of dinner and supper; they of gentle degree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -fared at the squire’s table, of simple at the lower -board with the servants, which formed with the -upper one the letter T.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A ring at the bell, and the porter ushered in -a stranger.</p> - -<p>“My name is Redfyrne, Sir John Redfyrne, -travelling upon the King’s business, and craving -your hospitality.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Sir John ate heartily; and his host did not ply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -him with many questions until he had finished -a huge platter of meat, and discussed a jorum -of ale.</p> - -<p>“Hast ridden far, Sir John?”</p> - -<p>“From Bovey only.”</p> - -<p>“Which way, round Moreton or by the Becky?”</p> - -<p>“By the Becky, where I narrowly escaped -the Gubbings.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Nor ever will be unless you hunt them from -the moor with bloodhounds.”</p> - -<p>“It <em>may</em> 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?”</p> - -<p>“The King’s Majesty’s health is better, but -he hath been sorely tried by the humour of one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Apotre de Luthere,</div> -<div class="verse">Si l’on brule ta chair,</div> -<div class="verse">C’est seulement que tu saches d’avance</div> -<div class="verse">Les tourments d’enfer.’”<a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Well, for the witch and for the heretic a -faggot is the best cure. What else is going on?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Queen Catharine has a hard time of it?”</p> - -<p>“She is a good nurse, but she is careful not -to cross the royal temper.”</p> - -<p>“There are five good examples set before her -in her predecessors.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sir Walter Trevannion! why, what has he -done?”</p> - -<p>“Nought as Sir Walter, but much as Father -Ambrose of Furness Abbey.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But how dost thou identify him with Sir -Walter, who seems a harmless country gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“The <em>adopted</em> son, young Cuthbert, is he not -the real son?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And the poor Trevannions,—for there is no -doubt Sir Walter <em>is</em> Sir Walter?”</p> - -<p>“None at all, his father denounced him for -becoming a monk against the paternal will.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the poor Trevannions, what of them? -what will be their fate?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -way. Can you prove the identity? there is the -question.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And the lad?”</p> - -<p>“An old schoolfellow at the Abbey is with me, -who saw him, himself unseen, at Bovey yesterday, -and can swear to him.”</p> - -<p>“Then we had better go to bed, for we must -rise betimes.”</p> - -<p>“Only write out the warrants to-night. You -can lodge me?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Sir Walter looked very serious as he heard it; -he did not like the look of the affair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It might have been well for <em>thee</em>, poor lad, -hadst thou let the Gubbings finish their work.”</p> - -<p>“But would it have been right, father?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow; and must I leave this place, -perhaps for ever, so soon, no good-bye said?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert, mount,” cried Sir Walter, and the -two cutting short their good-byes, jumped upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“My life upon it, they are but just gone,” cried -Sir John Redfyrne, as he gazed around.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Not so cautiously, however, but a trivial accident -happened, involving most tragical consequences.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>“My son, I fear my poor leg is broken, the -stirrup held and twisted it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, my father, let me help you.”</p> - -<p>Sir Walter almost swooned with pain as he -made a desperate effort to arise; then said, -“Cuthbert, ride on, it is <em>you</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I can leave you now, father?” -said the poor youth. “Oh, try once more. Nay, -it is useless, here they are.”</p> - -<p>“Put the best face you can on the matter; do -not let them see we were flying from them.”</p> - -<p>“Help, help, Sir Walter Trevannion has fallen -from his horse, and broken his leg.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -seek as Father Ambrose, Prior of Furness? say -<em>no</em>, and we will help thee home, and leave thee in -peace; now man, why dost thou not speak?”</p> - -<p>Sir Walter looked upon his friend, such a sad -look, in which gratitude struggled with pain.</p> - -<p>“Stukely,” he said, “do thy duty, thou art -ever a true man.”</p> - -<p>Stukely groaned aloud, but he offered no further -opposition, and the party, escorted by the constables, -took the road for Bovey, <i lang="fr">en route</i> for -Exeter gaol.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 135px;"> -<img src="images/footer3.jpg" width="135" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> The title “Sir” did not in these days <em>necessarily</em> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Until late in this reign no edible roots were grown as -food in England.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>EXETER GAOL.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-o.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> 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.</p> - -<p>Thus at the time of which we are writing, -rosemary, rue,<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> and sweet smelling herbs were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -to be held, in feudal tenure, by one of his chief -nobles, Baldwin de Biron, who had married his -niece, Albreda.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>This weapon was the Act of Supremacy.</p> - -<p>Would they take the oath? If not the cruel fate -assigned to traitors lay before them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<p>But what was the object of Sir John Redfyrne -in thus precipitating matters? It was simply -that he wished to get <em>Cuthbert</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>other</em> friends, even provide decently -for his future in some subordinate position.</p> - -<p>But first of all the danger must become real, or -the youth’s obstinacy would never be subdued,—the -jury <em>must</em> condemn.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -recently, when tarrying about the neighbourhood -of the manor house at Becky Hall, near Bovey.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -to someone who should present a ring which -prisoner would recognize: prisoner always -making up to my Lord Abbot.</p> - -<p>Questioned whether he had any motives for -dislike to prisoner: said only that he hated -favourites; once he fought with him and was -thrashed; <em>was</em> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They found that there was not sufficient -evidence to convict the younger prisoner of -“misprison of treason.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne desired that the -Oath of Supremacy be tendered to the younger.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne observed they -might recognize the true pupil of Richard -Whiting.</p> - -<p>The judges besought the youth, who was only -a little more than twenty years of age, to consider -the consequences of his refusal.</p> - -<p>He still remained obstinate, with the evident -approval of the elder prisoner, his reputed -father.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Sir John Redfyrne, on behalf of the Crown, -asked and obtained a week’s respite, such -sentences being usually executed on the morrow.</p> - -<p>The prisoners were removed; a dangerous -tendency was visible amongst the mob, many of -whom cried, “God bless them.”</p> - -<p>By desire of Sir John Redfyrne they were -separated and placed in solitary confinement.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> - -<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">The poor lad gave him one indignant look.</span>”</p> - -<p class="right smaller"><i><a href="#Page_143">Page 143.</a></i></p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>So far we have made extracts from the -registers of Rougemont.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Because he trusted to the weakness of human -nature, and thought that the fear of death would -extract the secret he craved.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>On the day following the trial and condemnation, -Sir John Redfyrne visited Cuthbert in his -cell.</p> - -<p>The poor lad gave him one indignant look, then -turned his head aside and would regard him no -further.</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert Trevannion, thou regardest me as -thy foe, yet I am not; thou didst save my life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>No answer.</p> - -<p>“Thou knowest the existence of a secret -chamber at Glastonbury.”</p> - -<p>Still no reply.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He paused in vain.</p> - -<p>“Or, failing this, if thou wilt not be led by -kindness and mercy, there remain the sharp arguments -of thumb-screw and rack.”</p> - -<p>The answer came at length.</p> - -<p>“Do thy worst, and God judge between me and -thee.”</p> - -<p>Sir John departed.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer9.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> <a href="#noteK">See Note K.</a> The Black Assize.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> Hence the phrase “He shall rue it.”</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>PUT TO THE QUESTION.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-l.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">Low, hidden in the very foundations -of the Castle of Rougemont, was -an arched dungeon of considerable -dimensions, which only the -initiated knew.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Summer or winter, night or day, storm or calm, -might reign above, all was alike down there.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p> - -<p>On the third day solitude and silence having -failed of their effect, Cuthbert was brought down -into this den.</p> - -<p>At the table sat the governor of Rougemont, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Thy name?” said the governor.</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert Trevannion.”</p> - -<p>“Hast thou always borne that name?”</p> - -<p>“No, only a few years.”</p> - -<p>“What other hast thou borne?”</p> - -<p>“Cuthbert, only.”</p> - -<p>“What then is thy real name?”</p> - -<p>“I know not.”</p> - -<p>“Who was thy father? What was he called?”</p> - -<p>“I was a foundling, and cannot tell.”</p> - -<p>“What is thy age?”</p> - -<p>“I was found an infant in the wood of Avalon, -on the 28th day of December, in the year -1525.”</p> - -<p>Sir John started at this announcement, and -looked earnestly at the speaker.</p> - -<p>“At whose charge wast thou brought up?”</p> - -<p>“That of the Abbot of Glastonbury.”</p> - -<p>Sir John and the governor looked at each other -as if this information corresponded with their -expectations.</p> - -<p>“Wast thou not sometimes called ‘Hodge?’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>“After the yeoman who found me, and became -my foster father.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I was commended to him by my benefactor, -the late Abbot.”</p> - -<p>“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.<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p> - -<p>“I was dear to him,” said Cuthbert, “but so -were all his children.”</p> - -<p>“But he trusted not all as he trusted thee?”</p> - -<p>“I am not a fair judge of that.”</p> - -<p>“He revealed his secrets to thee, I am told.”</p> - -<p>“He would hardly make a mere boy the depository -of many secrets; I was hardly fourteen at -his martyrdom.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<p>The officials all looked at each other as the last -word was pronounced, and the governor said -mildly—</p> - -<p>“‘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?”</p> - -<p>“I gained more prizes than one.”</p> - -<p>“This was in the May of 1539, and Nicholas -Grabber was thy competitor?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, in that same night the Abbot, as we -are informed, gave thee the honour of a private -interview?”</p> - -<p>“He often did.”</p> - -<p>“But on this occasion, had he not a special -object?”</p> - -<p>“He would not be likely otherwise to send for -me—his time was valuable.”</p> - -<p>“Thou evadest the question.”</p> - -<p>“I do not comprehend it.”</p> - -<p>“What was the <em>special</em> object on this occasion?”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert felt that the point was reached at last.</p> - -<p>“I am not at liberty to disclose.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“A good citizen knows no higher sanction than -the welfare of his country, and our religion bids -us honour and obey the King.”</p> - -<p>“In all things lawful, but this is not lawful to -me.”</p> - -<p>“I grieve over thee, poor youth,” said the -governor, “and over the measures I <em>must</em> take; -but the orders of council are explicit, are they -not, Sir John?”</p> - -<p>“They are, there is no alternative.”</p> - -<p>“Gaoler, draw back the curtains.”</p> - -<p>The curtains separated in the middle, and were -drawn back to the wall—the mystery of the -arched recess was laid bare.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -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; <em>seldom</em>, we say, but comparatively -<em>often</em> in this reign of terror.</p> - -<p>This <i lang="fr">coup d’oeil</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘Cuncta prius tentanda, sed immedicabile vulnus</div> -<div class="verse">Ense recidendum est, ne pars sincera trahatur.’”<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Apply the thumb-screw.”</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p> - -<p>Huge drops of sweat stood on the sufferer’s -brow.</p> - -<p>“Thou feelest a portion of what is due to thee -if thou confessest not.”</p> - -<p>“In te Domine speravi,” breathed the poor -prisoner.</p> - -<p>Minute after minute passed by, during which -the struggle between bodily pain and will continued.</p> - -<p>At last, Sir John looked at the governor and -whispered.</p> - -<p>“Another turn!” said the latter, reluctantly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<p>Another turn was given to the screw, and the -prisoner fainted, his sensitive frame could bear no -more.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>“It is useless, we can go no further to-day.”</p> - -<p>“But you will succeed <em>to-morrow</em>, the dread will -be greater now he knows what pain is, and he <em>will</em> -yield, I predict, when brought down once more; -we shall not need a fresh application of the -torture.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Let the poor lad be taken to his cell and all -kindness shewn him,” added the governor.</p> - -<p>So the pleasant party broke up.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 275px;"> -<img src="images/footer6.jpg" width="275" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> 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?</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">All things should first be tried, but an incurable wound</div> -<div class="verse">Must with the sword be cut out, lest the sound part be affected.</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> In John Knox’s house at Edinburgh the writer examined -a similar implement, as also at Sir Walter Scott’s house at -Abbotsford.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>AN UNEXPECTED DISCLOSURE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-a.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">“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.</p> - -<p>“I am, what dost thou seek of me? I have -little to do with cattle of thy breed.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“What does it matter to me whether the old -crone dies in peace or not?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Where art thou taking me to? I knew not -such dens existed,” said the knight.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And is <em>she</em> here?” He did not mean Eve.</p> - -<p>“Even so.”</p> - -<p>“What brought her so low? she has long -hidden from me.”</p> - -<p>“A guilty secret, perchance.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“And is <em>she</em> here?” said Sir John again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Even so,” was the reply; “tread carefully, -the staircase will bear thee in places only.”</p> - -<p>The ceiling, which had been moulded in patterns, -had fallen away, and hideous joists and -beams were disclosed as they ascended.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>“Peace, daughter, I bring him thou seekest.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Sir John gazed upon her.</p> - -<p>“Art thou Madge of Luckland?” he said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Shall I bid any of the neighbours come to -thee when he is gone?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Father, I <em>will</em>; am I not on the point of doing -so? go, leave me with this good knight: why, he -was once my foster son.”</p> - -<p>“And has he left thee to <em>want</em>, 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.”</p> - -<p>The priest departed, and Sir John sank into a -crazy chair by the couch of the old woman.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Speak, mother, why hast thou sent for me at -last? or why didst thou not send before?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I would not have sent for thee now, but if I -did not, a damning crime would stain thy soul -and mine; <em>mine</em>, because I alone can reveal to -thee its nature; <em>thine</em>, because thy sin led the way -to it.”</p> - -<p>“<em>My</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“I came not here to hear a sermon, Madge; -what further crime hast thou to warn me against? -I would not commit <em>useless</em> ones.”</p> - -<p>“Dost thou remember when thy brother’s -widow bare a poor babe, who never saw its -father’s face?”</p> - -<p>“I do, as thou knowest, too well; it was a -great disappointment to me.”</p> - -<p>“And while the mother slept in insensibility,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -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?”</p> - -<p>“Why repeat this idle tale, it is all over and -gone? Art thou alone? art thou sure there is -none here?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Well, thou didst it for love of thy foster son, -and thou hast been fool enough to confess it to -this meddling priest?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet, I waited to see thee first, and tell -thee what I <em>really</em> did.”</p> - -<p>“<em>Really</em> did? didst thou not murder the babe?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Can this be true? How wilt thou prove it -now?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And she fled?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“With the child?” said Sir John.</p> - -<p>“No, I learned all about <em>its</em> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -dragging thee and me alike into hell: repent at -once, and my poor soul may depart in peace; <em>save</em> -the boy, thy nephew.”</p> - -<p>“Art thou sure none can overhear us? Art -thou alone in this house?”</p> - -<p>“Alone with the dead.”</p> - -<p>“And that thou hast confessed the truth to -none?”</p> - -<p>“Not as yet.”</p> - -<p>“And never shall. Die then the death thou -didst spare the brat.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was growing dark.</p> - -<p>A shudder passed over him all at once, as he -descended the stairs.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He made a violent effort, composed himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -and rushed <em>through</em> 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.</p> - -<p>“How is the old girl upstairs?”</p> - -<p>“She passed away in a fit whilst I was with -her.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<img src="images/footer10.jpg" width="350" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> As I write an ancient map of Exeter is before me confirming -this description.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>CASTLE REDFYRNE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Here, in the early days of “Bluff King Hal,” -dwelt the good knight Sir Geoffrey Redfyrne, -with his lady and their four children.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They had of course many quarrels, but the -elder was always as ready to forgive, as the -younger to resent.</p> - -<p>Of the sisters we shall not speak, further than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -to say that they were often peace-makers between -their brothers, and that John was many a time -forgiven at their intercession.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Geoffrey and the two daughters were taken ill -next; the boy recovered, the sisters died; the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>We said <em>eight</em> 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.<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -in the desolation of their hearts, that they had -been taken too.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But all the time, his darker disposition was -only suppressed; it was his intention to be lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Sui profusus, alieni appietens,”<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> as Sallust -wrote of Catiline.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>For a brief time he wrestled with the devil; -hard as he was he could not forget the pleading -tone of his dying brother,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At length the time arrived for his return for -the first time as lord of the manor, and an avant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -courier arrived at Castle Redfyrne to announce -his approaching arrival.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> -gave no intimation of an approaching storm.</p> - -<p>Before dawn on Holy Innocents’ Day, Madge -awoke the young widow; together they left the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thicker flakes! thicker! thicker! the night -darker; the snow deeper, each hour.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>How they met at last the reader has learned.</p> - -<p>Sir John, hardened as he was, could not for a -time shake off the remembrance of his brother’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>Should he ever have to bear the reproach in -another world!</p> - -<p>He shook the thought off—parried it with the -shield of unbelief.</p> - -<p>How like the poor ostrich, who hides his head -in the sand, and thinks, because it cannot see its -pursuers, it is itself unseen!</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>He had for a near neighbour Squire Grabber,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The squire consented, and the reader knows the -consequences, so far as we have yet had space to -unfold them.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer1.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Craving another’s, wasteful of his own.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> The great snow storm of January, 1881, was entirely -“unforecasted,” if the writer remembers aright.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> 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.”</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>LED FORTH TO DIE.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>Who knows what might have been the consequence -of those hours of pain and loneliness, had -they been prolonged? but suddenly the door -opened.</p> - -<p>Cuthbert scarcely looked up, thinking it was -but the gaoler bringing him food, when he heard -a voice, a well-known one.</p> - -<p>“My son, my dear son.”</p> - -<p>It was Father Ambrose, alias Sir Walter, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“My father, my more than father,” he cried.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“To whom do we owe this mercy; to the -governor? he seemed to feel for us.”</p> - -<p>“No, he could not have ventured to oppose -Sir John Redfyrne, who was armed with the -authority of the Privy Council.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert flushed up at the sound of the hated -name.</p> - -<p>“<em>He</em> has no hand in this indulgence.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed he has, my dear son, whatever his -motives may be; he may repent of his ingratitude.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert shook his head.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“My father, I am so glad, so glad you are -here, my faith was failing me.”</p> - -<p>“In what?”</p> - -<p>“In the justice of our cause; why do we stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -almost alone, against the great majority of our -countrymen?”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>majority</em> on their side, miserable as the support -drawn from thence would be; for England stands -alone amongst the Christian commonwealths in -her present schism.<a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The good father was using the very best means -which could be used to keep his <i lang="fr">protegé</i> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -seat on high, lit again the expiring embers of faith—“I -will be true to him till death,” he said; -“as <em>he</em> 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.’”</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert wept upon the shoulder of the good -Prior.</p> - -<p>“He shall not be deceived in me; I will tread -the path he trod.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Would it had.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Where is that land, that glory land?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Perhaps they had not been <em>frustrated</em>, but -changed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“<em>Here they come!</em>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - -<p>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—<i lang="la">Ora pro eis</i> -(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 <i lang="la">Miserere Domine</i>, now again -<i lang="la">Ora pro eis</i>; but it is no longer one feeble voice, -but the breath of a multitude which bears the -sweet sad refrain to heaven.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="la">Miserere</i> or <i lang="la">Ora pro eis</i>, while the <em>cannibals</em> -who are there smack their lips at the dainty sight -prepared for them.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -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——</p> - -<p>A tremendous shout—</p> - -<p>“Dartmoor to the rescue!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>BREATHING TIME.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>Was he in Paradise? The words he had often -sung in choir came into his mind,—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“In loco pascuæ ibi me collocavit,</div> -<div class="verse">Et super aquam refectionis educavit me.”<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Had the gibbet and quartering block been -endured and left behind, was he in the spirit -while the mutilated and desecrated members<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -of his mortal body rotted on the gates of -Exeter?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -wrong,<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> and <em>that</em> no defence of moat or wall could -avert.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Beneath those mountains lay the happy home -of the last six years; Hey Tor looked over Ashburton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But he will wonder how he came there.</p> - -<p>Listen! a step approaches, the door opens, and -a familiar form enters the room.</p> - -<p>“What, Cuthbert at the window! God bless -thee, my boy, thou art better then—, this <em>is</em> a -sight for sore eyes.”</p> - -<p>“Have I been ill, father?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And where am I?”</p> - -<p>“Not in Rougemont.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I see that, but where?”</p> - -<p>“Amongst true friends; this is the mansion of -Sir Robert Tremayne, an old friend of our house, -to whom we are much indebted.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Thou art young, dear son.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me all, have I been ill long?”</p> - -<p>“This is the third day since the rescue.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>“How came it about?”</p> - -<p>“Public opinion made it <em>possible</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“How weak I must be!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And when shall we go to Glastonbury and -complete our task?”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -or so has passed away, we may venture, well -disguised.”</p> - -<p>“And shall we never dare to return home -again?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, not while Henry reigns; it would not be -worth the risk; there is no sufficient object.”</p> - -<p>“And our poor brethren there?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Then we are very poor, father?”</p> - -<p>“Do’st thou love me less?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, thou shalt see how true thine adopted -son will be, God helping him.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And we shall be exiles?”</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -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.’”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -past, and a bright All Saints’ Day, a day when -the words of our sweet modern singer might -be realized:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Why blowest thou not thou wintry wind?</div> -<div class="verse indent1">When every leaf is brown and sere,</div> -<div class="verse">And idly hangs, to thee resigned,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">The fading foliage of the year.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Better wait till we are sure he has returned -thither,” said Sir Robert.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Before they parted, Sir Robert brought a sword -from the armoury.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It was my poor Robin’s; wear it, my son, -for his sake, for thou art worthy of it.”</p> - -<p>Their disguises were at hand, and they assumed -them and departed, after a warm farewell and -many deep expressions of gratitude.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>And thence from that breezy height, looking -back, he caught his last view of Dartmoor.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer9.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> “He shall feed me in a green pasture, and lead me forth -beside the waters of comfort.”—<cite>Psalm</cite> xxiii. 2.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Sir Walter Raleigh, born six years later, in 1552.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE SHADOWS DARKEN.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But Sir John was not thinking of these things, -his evil heart was full of bitterness.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At length he rang a bell which stood on the -table, and soon Nicholas appeared in the door -way.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The tie between him and Sir John was one of -evil, yet Sir John loved him as much as it was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -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:—</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Nicholas was now rather the companion than -the page, and on very familiar terms with Sir -John.</p> - -<p>“Didst thou lie awake long last night, Nick?”</p> - -<p>“I was somewhat restless, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Didst thou hear aught unusual?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Nicholas, after pausing to reflect.</p> - -<p>“Think again; any loud noise?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot remember any.”</p> - -<p>Sir John again paced up and down as if communing -with himself.</p> - -<p>“<em>Was</em> there aught unusual, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I distinctly heard a door shut with a -loud clang.”</p> - -<p>“May have been the wind.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“There is no such door, save in the old -oubliettes below the towers; I wish we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -Cuthbert in <em>one</em>, and his reverend father in -another.”</p> - -<p>“No there <em>is</em> none; the fact startled me, and -a strange thrill, which I cannot account for, went -through me as I heard it.”</p> - -<p>Sir John paused, and a visible tremor passed -over him, which was strange in a man of his -iron constitution.</p> - -<p>“But I have not sent for you to talk about -this; hast thou gleaned any tidings of Cuthbert -at Glastonbury?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Thou hatest this Cuthbert?”</p> - -<p>“Ever since I have known him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Because he once gave you a thrashing, hey, -Nick?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Sir John laughed merrily; the cheerful sentiment -delighted him.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>By common repute she was a witch, and would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 -<em>power</em>, not the <em>will</em> to have performed them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -Christian people, save a few, who despite of their -creed, came to consult the “wise woman” in -divers difficulties.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“The blackamoor may help us, if thou hast -courage to face him.”</p> - -<p>Sir John winced;—“I would rather not see -him if it can be done without.”</p> - -<p>“Couldst thou bear to hear his voice?”</p> - -<p>“I could, methinks.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>It was one of those celebrated limestone caves -of which so remarkable an example exists in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -boiled like a geyser, the cave appeared to tremble, -and a deep voice said—</p> - -<p>“Why hast thou brought me up?”</p> - -<p>“Ask thy question at once,” whispered the -witch.</p> - -<p>“Where may I meet my foes?” said Sir John.</p> - -<p>“In the Abbot’s lodging, within the ruined -Abbey, at the third midnight from hence.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But is it not possible that <span class="smcap">He</span>, 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 <span class="smcap">He</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>At length Sir John rose, like one from stupor.</p> - -<p>“Mother, here is money for thee; keep the -secret.”</p> - -<p>“Or it would cost me my life; but, Sir John, -beware of the Abbey at midnight, I fear <em>he</em> means -thee harm.”</p> - -<p>“Thou carest for me, then?”</p> - -<p>“What would become of me wert thou gone?”</p> - -<p>He shook his head and returned to Nicholas.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens, how pale thou art, sir!”</p> - -<p>“So wouldst thou be hadst thou been with us.”</p> - -<p>“She ought to be burnt.”</p> - -<p>“She is useful just now, and ministers to our -designs.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They supped together, Nicholas waiting on his -lord, but yet enjoying the privilege of supping at -the same table.</p> - -<p>After supper, as they discussed some hot sack, -the patron said—</p> - -<p>“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 ‘<i>Robin -Hood</i>;’ 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;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“There is much gold hidden there,” said -Nicholas.</p> - -<p>“There is, and it may be advisable for us to -anticipate the work of the executioner on the -spot, in which case”—</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>He looked at Nicholas, but neither spoke again -on the subject that night.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -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—</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Nicholas! Nicholas!”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Didst thou not hear?”</p> - -<p>“Nay, I was awake, and all was still; thou -wert dreaming, Sir John.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> -<img src="images/footer11.jpg" width="175" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> The reader who has penetrated the Cheddar caves will -recognize the description.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>AN ANCIENT INN.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-a.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -destruction of all better feelings and human -sympathies.</p> - -<p>A month, and our scene is changed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>those</em> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Canst give us a room to ourselves, landlord, -to-night—both to sup and sleep?”</p> - -<p>“Thee must sit with thy neighbours and sup -with them, but mayst have a bed room all to -your two selves.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t money do it?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Needs must then,” said the elder; “take the -horses, my son. Is the ostler at hand?”</p> - -<p>“He will be here in a minute or two, if you -are above looking to your own beasts.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Could not be better, the very idea appetizes -me; come, John, in with the horses.”</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>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,<a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> although silly people like to poke -jokes at the wearer now-a-days. Moreover,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -there was a sly expression about his face which -provoked mistrust; whether deservedly or not, -the reader must judge by his deeds.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>The lawyer here made a diversion.</p> - -<p>“Has any one heard aught of the fugitives who -escaped rope and quartering knife at Exeter?”</p> - -<p>The red-haired page on hearing this gazed -intently, with a very malicious smile, upon the -face of the farmer’s son.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Has no one been hung for that affair?” -inquired the merchant. “Hemp is going down -in the market!”</p> - -<p>“No one <em>as yet</em>,” said the page, with a slight -laugh, which sat unamiably on one so young.</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” said the lawyer, “some one will -have to be.”</p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>The page looked puzzled.</p> - -<p>Here “mine host” announced supper, and it -soon smoked on the board: a sucking-pig stewed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Give me the roast beef of old England,” said -our farmer, and stuck to the joint.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -who look out for two travellers, corresponding -to the descriptions already advertized of our -persons, will be less likely to recognize either.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert looked very sad at this.</p> - -<p>“<em>Must</em> we <em>really</em> 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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Quite sure; at least he loves me for his -brother’s sake, my foster father, Giles Hodge.”</p> - -<p>“And we need not tell him any more than is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“The rose, fourth in order from the door and -the third from the ground.”</p> - -<p>The good father took out his tablets, and made -a note thereof.</p> - -<p>“Now, dear Cuthbert, our Compline office, and -then to rest. We must be waking early.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Thee beest a gentleman, and dang’d if I don’t -tell thee all: I knows thee, I was in Exeter t’other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -day, when two folks were to have been strapped -and cut up.”</p> - -<p>“You will not betray me, then?”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>was</em> here.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, who was he?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Why? pray tell me.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert looked serious as he said, “And were -we talking just then?”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I must.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” thought Cuthbert, “it means <em>worse</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Good bye, and many thanks,” he said, aloud, -“he has more need to fear <em>me</em> than I <em>him</em>. I <em>must</em> -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.”</p> - -<p>And setting spurs to his horse, he rode off at -a brisk trot.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> -<img src="images/footer1.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE HAND OF GOD.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-c.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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?</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>So as yet he had not gained upon him.</p> - -<p>The grey-headed ostler observed his uneasiness.</p> - -<p>“Dost thou wish to catch that page?”</p> - -<p>“I have most important business with him.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -will make him go as if he had wings, instead of -legs, for a few hours——”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“A noble for thee, if thou canst get the draught.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Now let him rest another half-hour, and he -will be ready.”</p> - -<p>“Half-an-hour, now—”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert was forced to make a merit of necessity -and wait as patiently as he could.</p> - -<p>“If thou canst not take it easy, take it as easy -as thou canst,” said this old philosopher of an -ostler.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Let him go gently for a mile, then thou wilt -need neither whip nor spur,” cried the old man.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>Mile after mile flew by; and now Langport -was in sight; it was the hour of noon.</p> - -<p>Cuthbert inquired at the inn again; there was -but one, frequented by wayfarers.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Cuthbert delayed not a moment; his horse -did not seem a wit inclined to tarry either.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>At length, the distant Tor arose upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -horizon, a solitary hill arising like a beacon -from the wide plain of Avalon, but still no -Nicholas.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Suddenly his eyes were attracted by an object -still some distance in front of him, lying against -the trunk of a huge beech tree.</p> - -<p>It looked like a human figure.</p> - -<p>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 <em>Nicholas</em>.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>The wounded youth muttered feebly, “Water! -Water!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What, Cuthbert! can it be thou! dost thou -forgive me then? since I am dying, and can -harm thee no more.”</p> - -<p>“I am trying to do so.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do forgive,” said Cuthbert, touched -by this appeal, “as I hope to be forgiven.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with short gasps.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“God can forgive without sacraments when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -they cannot be had, I have heard the Abbot say -so in old times.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! <em>the Abbot</em>, 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.”</p> - -<p>A change passed over the face of the dying -youth.</p> - -<p>“A strange numbness creeps over me,—only -my head seems alive—my breathing is—so -difficult—I choke—raise my head.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Sancte Nicolæ ora pro me—Cuthbert hasten -to Glastonbury—Sir John—the secret chamber—midnight—beware—omnes -sancti—orate pro me -peccatore.”</p> - -<p>And so he died.</p> - -<p>“I thank God his blood is not upon my head, -that He Who has said ‘Vengeance is Mine, I will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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, -<em>lived</em>, in a new cottage on the site of the former -one, destroyed by fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>They had not seen Sir John Redfyrne, and -knew not if he was in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then some words he had often sung in choir, -came into Cuthbert’s mind; I shall give them -as he once sang them—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Nisi quia Dominus erat in nobis, dicat nunc Israel: nisi quia Dominus erat in nobis;</div> -<div class="verse">Cum exsurgerent homines in nos: forte vivos deglutissent nos.”<a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“God preserve us,” said the old people together, -“O mihi beate Martine;<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> men do say they are -haunted.”</p> - -<p>“Though as many ghosts were there as stones -in the ruined pile, thither must I go.”</p> - -<p>“Thou wilt see us once more, dear boy?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> - -<p>They embraced in silence amidst tears.</p> - -<p>“The saints preserve him,” said the aged -couple.</p> - -<p>They did not retire to bed that night, it would -have been a mere mockery of rest; they sat -up and watched.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> -<img src="images/footer10.jpg" width="350" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> 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. (<cite>Psalm</cite> cxxiv.)</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE TRUST FULFILLED.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-o.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.</p> - -<p>But all the town was buried in sleep; not a -watch dog barked—not a watchman stirred—alone, -unobserved, Cuthbert walked along the -streets.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>When Cuthbert approached, he saw the entrance -yawning wide, like a cavern, for the gates -had been sold for the value of the wood;<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> and -he entered into the desecrated chapel, which so -many generations had revered as the very sanctuary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -of Avalon, the holy place, as men said, -trodden of old, by the saintly feet of him of -Arimathæa.</p> - -<p>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.”<a name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></p> - -<p>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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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!</p> - -<p>The defaced tomb stones, broken altars, empty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<a name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> -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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -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, “<i lang="fr">Après moi le déluge</i>.” -Glastonbury Abbey had then attained the summit -of its prosperity, being one of the richest and -most renowned of all the abbeys of England.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>But here he paused, and recalled the past as he -gazed around the cloisters: on the east lay the -<i>chapter house</i>, 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 <i>refectory</i> occupied the -whole south side of the square, where Cuthbert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -remembered seven long tables whereat the monks -had taken their sober repasts,<a name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> while one of their -number read from the pulpit the Holy Scriptures -or some godly tome of the fathers: to the west -lay the <i>fratery</i> or apartments of the novices, -and to the north was the great south front of -the church.</p> - -<p>Over the cloisters was a gallery, from which -had opened the <i>library</i>, 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 <i>scriptorium</i>, where -the ill-fated brethren had made copies of the Holy -Scriptures and the Office books of the Church; -the <i>common room</i>, wherein around the great hearth -the brethren assembled in hours of leisure; the -<i>wardrobe</i>, and the <i>treasury</i>.</p> - -<p>All lay alike in sad ruin: all that <em>would</em> sell had -been sold: the mere shell of the building remained.</p> - -<p>Over these rooms, on what we may call the -<i>second</i> floor, lay the <i>dormitories</i>, 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -of the choristers and other boys, who had lived -in the house.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Well might the ruined desecrated pile suggest -awe in this midnight hour.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O’er all there hung the shadow of a fear,</div> -<div class="verse indent1">A sense of mystery the spirit daunted,</div> -<div class="verse">And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,</div> -<div class="verse indent2">The place is haunted.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Then he remembered that the unhappy Nicholas -in his dying gasps had cried—</p> - -<p>“Sir John; the secret chamber; midnight; -beware!” and had died before he could offer -the reparation of explanation.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Father!”</p> - -<p>“Thou wert here first, then, Cuthbert my son, -and hast met with no accident by the way.”</p> - -<p>“How long hast thou been in the ruins, -father?”</p> - -<p>“But just arrived from the inn where I have -left my horse,—why?”</p> - -<p>“Because I heard a footfall.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, it was fancy; we will soon do our errand -and depart. Has thy journey been, like mine, -uneventful?”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 440px;"> - -<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="440" height="650" alt="" /> - -<p class="caption">“<span class="smcap">He pressed the centre of the bud sharply with his thumb.</span>”</p> - -<p class="right smaller"><i><a href="#Page_239">Page 239.</a></i></p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Didst thou slay him, then?”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Poor lad! we will pray for his soul as he -desired; Sir John has a heavy reckoning before -him;—I wonder where <em>he</em> is now! But, my son, -to our task; the night wears on.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -the pressure upon the carved rose many feet -away.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -yielded, and they raised the ponderous lid until -it fell back and rested against the wall.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“We must burn all the letters,” said Father Ambrose; -“such were the Abbot’s last instructions.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -when it will help to restore the Abbey, and refurnish -it with sacred vessels; how long, O God, -until this tyranny be overpast?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> -<img src="images/footer12.jpg" width="225" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> <a href="#noteL">See Note L.</a> Demolition of Abbeys.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> <a href="#PREFACE">See Preface.</a></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> It was purchased for Wells Cathedral where it may -still be seen.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h3 id="II_CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i lang="la">SUUM CUIQUE TRIBUITUR.</i></span></h3> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-l.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">Let us leave the snug cot and -return to the desolate ruins of the -Abbey.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Hush! the new-comer is talking to himself, -soliloquizing aloud.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr">en route</i> for Glastonbury Abbey; -no doubt to visit the secret chamber, and he -knew that I meant to await him here alone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -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?</p> - -<p>“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 <em>could</em>, 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?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Down the thirty steps; down to the iron door -at the bottom, first closing the upper door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He enters the vault, and passes from mortal -sight for ever.</p> - -<p>Let us stand outside and watch that door.</p> - -<p>It is certainly moving, almost imperceptibly; -oh, how terrible that slight motion. It increases -in speed, <i lang="la">vires acquirit eundo</i>; oh! will no one -warn the guilty wretch within of his danger.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> - -<p>We draw a veil over them, and bid Sir John -Redfyrne a last farewell.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Cuthbert’s heart was too full for speech; he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Such a journey as they had accomplished -would have been difficult in France without -passports, or in any continental land until a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -why not to-morrow morning, my boy; loath are -we to part with thee so soon, but thy safety is the -first consideration.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -services, they directed their steps to the famous -Abbey.</p> - -<p>After a journey of some hours, they arrived -safely at Bec.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>His good qualities, well known to those who -have read of them in the “Andredsweald,” a -chronicle of the house of Michelham in Sussex,<a name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> -had not suffered in transmission through so many -generations: and our Cuthbert found a warm -reception in the Norman household.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“When the shore is gained, at last,</div> -<div class="verse">Who will count the billows past?”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><em>There</em>, 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.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 175px;"> -<img src="images/footer5.jpg" width="175" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> The “Andredsweald,” a tale of the Norman Conquest, -by the same author.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header1.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="Epilogue">Epilogue.</h2> - -<div> -<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-h.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="dropcap">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.”</p> - -<p>“Please, sir, we want to know what became of -the treasure?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But how did they know who he was?”</p> - -<p>“The name was engraved on his sword, ‘John -Redfyrne, Knight.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Did Cuthbert know that it was his uncle?”</p> - -<p>“Not at the time, nor for years afterwards.”</p> - -<p>“I fancy,” said a youngster, “Cuthbert would -still have preferred the name ‘<i>Trevannion</i>’ to ‘<i>Redfyrne</i>,’ -even if he had known.”</p> - -<p>“But what did they do with the treasure? -Was the Abbey ever rebuilt?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But were old Giles and his wife alive then? -did they ever see Cuthbert again?” enquired a -chubby little fellow.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And did Cuthbert ever get the lands of Redfyrne?”</p> - -<p>“No, for he never claimed them, and they -passed to the next of kin.”</p> - -<p>“But did Cuthbert have plenty of money?” -cried a little fellow, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Yes, the King of France, Henry the Second,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“And did he marry that Isabel Grey of Ashburton?”</p> - -<p>“No, she married a fat and well-liking Devonshire -squire.”</p> - -<p>“Poor Cuthbert; what a shame!”</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“You remember the good old priest of S. Mary -of the Steppes in Exeter?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” cried several, “he was sent to fetch -<em>that</em> Sir John Redfyrne to old Madge.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Then why did not Cuthbert claim his own?” -said many at once.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“But he was wrong in contending for the -supremacy of the Pope, was he not?” said an -incipient theologian.</p> - -<p>“Undoubtedly; but as a modern historian, -not usually credited with Catholic sympathies, -says of the Carthusian martyrs who died for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -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?’”<a name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></p> - -<p>“What a wicked monster Henry the Eighth -must have been!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p class="center"><i lang="la">Exeunt omnes.</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 275px;"> -<img src="images/footer6.jpg" width="275" height="100" alt="Decorative footer" /> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h4>FOOTNOTES</h4> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> Froude, Vol. III., Cap. ix.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/header3.jpg" width="500" height="150" alt="Decorative header" /> -</div> - -<h2 id="Notes"><span class="smcap">Notes.</span></h2> - -<h3 id="noteA"><cite>Note A, <a href="#Page_2">P. 2</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Antiquities of Glastonbury.</span></h3> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O Isle of Apples; truly fortunate,</div> -<div class="verse">Where unforced fruit, and willing comforts meet;</div> -<div class="verse">For there the fields require no rustic hand,</div> -<div class="verse">But Nature only cultivates the land:</div> -<div class="verse">The fertile plains with corn and herds are proud,</div> -<div class="verse">And golden apples smile in every wood.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Ancient legends relate that S. Philip the -Apostle, anxious both to spread the knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The Cup, the Cup itself, from which our Lord</div> -<div class="verse">Drank at the last sad Supper with His own;</div> -<div class="verse">This, from the Blessed Land of Aromat—</div> -<div class="verse">After the day of darkness, when the dead</div> -<div class="verse">Went wandering over Moriah—the good Saint,</div> -<div class="verse">Arimathæan Joseph, journeying brought</div> -<div class="verse">To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn</div> -<div class="verse">Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord.</div> -<div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Tennyson.</span>—<cite>The Holy Grail.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <span class="smcap">He</span> had consecrated -it Himself.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“But now farewell, I am going a long way,</div> -<div class="verse">With these thou seest, if indeed I go,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -<div class="verse">(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt,)</div> -<div class="verse">To the island valley of Avilion,</div> -<div class="verse">Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,</div> -<div class="verse">Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies</div> -<div class="verse">Deep meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns,</div> -<div class="verse">And bowery meadows, crowned with summer sea,</div> -<div class="verse">Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But the hope was vain; he went to Avalon to -die.</p> - -<p>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,—“<i lang="la">Hic -pace sepultus rex Arthurus, in insula Avalonia</i>,”—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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -were recommitted to their resting place; <em>there</em> -to rest, until the tyrant—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Cast away like a thing defiled</div> -<div class="verse">The remembrance of the just.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <em>the</em> oldest Christian Church in -Britain.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -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.”</p> - -<p>Ina died at Rome, whither he had gone, after -resigning his crown, in all the “odour of sanctity.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The plain Saxon edifice of Ina looked mean -to men accustomed to the Norman abbeys, and -therefore Tustain rebuilt the greater portion.</p> - -<p>The well known fighting Bishop, Henry of -Blois, brother of King Stephen, was appointed -Abbot of Glastonbury in 1126, and Bishop of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 (<span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The Abbey is said to have suffered grievously -in the earthquake which shook the country in -the third year of Edward the first, 1274.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Then when all was “as perfect as perfect could -be,” so far as the outward structure, came the -terrible fall our story records.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="noteB"><cite>Note B, <a href="#Page_11">P. 11</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Lad and Lass.</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The old good wife’s well hoarded nuts</div> -<div class="verse">Are round and round divided,</div> -<div class="verse">And many lads’ and lasses’ fates</div> -<div class="verse">Are there that night decided;</div> -<div class="verse">Some kindle quickly, side by side,</div> -<div class="verse">And burn together trimly,</div> -<div class="verse">Some start away with saucy pride</div> -<div class="verse">And jump out o’er the chimney.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.—<cite>Brand’s Popular Antiquities.</cite></p> - -<h3 id="noteC"><cite>Note C, <a href="#Page_11">P. 11</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Fetches.</span></h3> - -<p>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.—<cite>Grose</cite> <i lang="la">apud</i> <cite>Brand</cite>.</p> - -<h3 id="noteD"><cite>Note D, <a href="#Page_25">P. 25</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Coupled between two Foxhounds.</span></h3> - -<p>“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.”—<cite>Hooker’s -Life of Sir Peter Carew.</cite></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="noteE"><cite>Note E, <a href="#Page_31">P. 31</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">The Parchments.</span></h3> - -<p>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.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Treason doth never prosper, for this reason</div> -<div class="verse">That if it prosper, none dare call it treason.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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.</p> - -<h3 id="noteF"><cite>Note F, <a href="#Page_38">P. 38</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">The Last Celebration.</span></h3> - -<p>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, <i lang="la">mutatis mutandis</i>. 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.</p> - -<h3 id="noteG"><cite>Note G, <a href="#Page_73">P. 73</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Death of Abbott Whiting.</span></h3> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”—<cite>Rev. J. H. -Blunt’s Reformation of the Church of England</cite>, p. 349-350. -(From original authorities.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="noteH"><cite>Note H, <a href="#Page_78">P. 78</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">English Farmers.</span></h3> - -<p>“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.”—<cite>Latimer’s Sermons</cite>, p. 101.</p> - -<h3 id="noteI"><cite>Note I, <a href="#Page_93">P. 93</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">The Abbey Church.</span></h3> - -<p>Add this sentence accidentally omitted from the -text:—</p> - -<p>“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; <em>there</em> 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<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -Canterbury by the Danes in 1012.<a name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> 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.”</p> - -<h3 id="noteJ"><cite>Note J, <a href="#Page_117">P. 117</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">The Gubbings.</span></h3> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p>“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 <em>upon</em> them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -for fear of being quartered <em>amongst</em> 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 <em>one</em>, and <em>all</em> will avenge his quarrel.”</p> - -<h3 id="noteK"><cite>Note K, <a href="#Page_135">P. 135</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">The Black Assize.</span></h3> - -<p>“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.”—<cite>Rushton’s -Continuation of Sanders</cite>, Book iv., Cap ix.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="noteL"><cite>Note L, <a href="#Page_232">P. 232</a>.</cite>—<span class="smcap">Demolition of Abbeys.</span></h3> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:—</p> - -<p>“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 <em>should</em> 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.”</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i></h2> - -<p class="hanging">Fairleigh Hall. A Tale of the Neighbourhood -of Oxford during the Civil Wars. -<i>Cloth</i>, 3/6.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Æmilius. A Story of the Decian and -Valerian Persecution. <i>Cloth</i>, 3/6.</p> - -<p class="hanging">Evanus. A Tale of the Days of Constantine -the Great. <i>Cloth</i>, 3/6.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Camp on the Severn. A Tale -of the Tenth Persecution in Great Britain. -<i>Cloth</i>, 2/0.</p> - -<p class="hanging">The Victor’s Laurel. A Tale of the -Tenth Persecution in Italy. <i>Cloth</i>, 2/0.</p> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAST ABBOT OF GLASTONBURY***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 53010-h.htm or 53010-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/0/1/53010">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/1/53010</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>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. 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