CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
HOW HE HEARD IT.
"Why, what's this?"
Mr Justice Roberts had opened the old press, tried all the drawers, andcome at last to the secret drawer, of whose existence only he and hisbrother knew. No sooner had he applied his hand to a secret spring,than out darted the drawer, showing that it held a long legal-lookingdocument, and a letter addressed to himself. He opened and read thelatter, Margery standing quietly at a little distance. Slowly andthoughtfully, when he had finished the letter, he folded it up, pocketedit, and turned to Margery.
"Ay, Madge," he said, "they are gone."
"And not coming back, Master Anthony?"
"Not while--well, not at this present. Madge, my brother would have mecome hither, and take up mine abode here--for a while, look you; andmethinks I shall so do."
"Well, Mr Anthony, and I shall be full fain. I've been right tremblingin my shoes this three days, lest them noisome pests should think tocome and take possession--turn out all. Master's papers, and countMistress Grena's partlets, and reckon up every crack in the kitchentrenchers; but there's nought 'll keep 'em out, even to you coming,'cause they'll be a bit 'feared of you, as being a Justice of Peace.Ay, I am glad o' that."
"`Noisome pests'! Why, whom signify you, Madge?"
"Oh, catchpolls, and thirdboroughs [minor constables], and sheriffs, andhangmen, and 'turneys, and the like o' they," replied Margery, not verylucidly: "they be pests, the lot of 'em, as ever I see. They're as illas plumbers and painters and rats and fleas--once get 'em in, andthere's no turning of 'em out. I cannot abide 'em."
Mr Justice Roberts laughed. "Come, Madge, you may as well add`Justices of Peace'; you've got pretty nigh all else. Prithee look tothy tongue, old woman, or thou shalt find thee indicted for an illsubject unto the Queen. Why, they be her Gracious' servants [`Grace's'was then frequently spelt `Gracious''], and do her bidding. Thouwouldst not rebel against the Queen's Majesty?"
"I am as true a woman to the Queen's Grace as liveth, Mr Anthony; butthem folks isn't the Queen nor the King neither. And they be ascantankerous toads, every one of 'em, as ever jumped in a brook. Do youhaste and come, there's a good lad, as you alway was, when you used totoddle about the house, holding by my gown. It'll seem like old timesto have you back."
"Well, I can come at once," said the Justice, with a smile at Margery'sreminiscences; "for my brother hath left me a power of attorney to dealwith his lands and goods; and as he is my landlord, I have but to agreewith myself over the leaving of mine house. But I shall bring Martha: Itrust you'll not quarrel."
"No fear o' that, Mr Anthony. Martha, she's one of the quiet uns, asneither makes nor meddles; and I've had strife enough to last me therest o' my life. 'Tis them flaunting young hussies as reckonsquarrelling a comfort o' their lives. And now Osmund's hence, Marthacan wait on you as she's used, and she and me 'll shake down like acouple o' pigeons."
"Good. Then I'll be hither in a day or twain: and if any of your pestscome meantime, you shake my stick at them, Madge, and tell them I'm athand."
"No fear! I'll see to that!" was the hearty answer.
So the Justice took up his abode at Primrose Croft, and the cantankeroustoads did not venture near. Mr Roberts had requested his brother tohold the estate for him, or in the event of his death for Gertrude,until they should return; which, of course, meant, and was quiteunderstood to mean, until the death of the Queen should make way for theaccession of the Protestant Princess Elizabeth. Plain speech was oftendangerous in those days, and people generally had recourse to some vagueform of words which might mean either one thing or another. The Justicewent down to the cloth-works on the following Tuesday, and called RogerHall into the private room.
"Read those, Hall, an' it like you," he said, laying before him MrRoberts' letter and the power of attorney.
Roger only glanced at them, and then looked up with a smile.
"I looked for something of this kind, Mr Justice," he said. "WhenMaster left the works on Tuesday evening, he said to me, `If my brothercome, Hall, you will see his orders looked to--' and I reckoned it meantsomewhat more than an order for grey cloth. We will hold ourselves atyour commands, Mr Justice, and I trust you shall find us to yoursatisfaction."
"No doubt, Hall, no doubt!" replied the easy-tempered Justice. "Shutthat further door an instant. Have you heard aught of late touchingyour sister?"
"Nought different, Mr Justice. She is yet in the Castle, but I cannothear of any further examination, nor sentence."
"Well, well! 'Tis sore pity folks cannot believe as they should, andkeep out of trouble."
Roger Hall was unable to help thinking that if Mr Justice Roberts hadspoken his real thoughts, and had dared to do it, what he might havesaid would rather have been--"'Tis sore pity folks cannot let othersalone to believe as they like, and not trouble them."
That afternoon, the Lord Bishop of Dover held his Court in CanterburyCastle, and a string of prisoners were brought up for judgment. Amongthem came our friends from Staplehurst--Alice Benden, who was helpedinto Court by her fellow-prisoners, White and Pardue, for she couldscarcely walk; Fishcock, Mrs Final, Emmet Wilson, and Sens Bradbridge.For the last time they were asked if they would recant. The same answercame from all--
"By the grace of God, we will not."
Then the awful sentence was passed--to be handed over to the seculararm--the State, which the Church prayed to punish these malefactorsaccording to their merits. By a peculiarly base and hypocriticalfiction, it was made to appear that the Church never put any heretic todeath--she only handed them over to the State, with a touching requestthat they might be gently handled! What that gentle handling meant,every man knew. If the State had treated a convicted heretic to anypenalty less than death, it would soon have been found out what theChurch understood by gentle handling!
Then the second sentence, that of the State, was read by the Sheriff.On Saturday, the nineteenth of June, the condemned criminals were to betaken to the field beyond the Dane John, and in the hollow at the endthereof to be burned at the stake till they were dead, for the safety ofthe Queen and her realm, and to the glory of God Almighty. God save theQueen!
None of the accused spoke, saving two. Most bowed their heads as if inacceptance of the sentence. Alice Benden, turning to Nicholas Pardue,said with a light in her eyes--
"Then shall we keep our Trinity octave in Heaven!"
Poor Sens Bradbridge, stretching out her arms, cried aloud to theBishop--"Good my Lord, will you not take and keep Patience and Charity?"
"Nay, by the faith of my body!" was Dick of Dover's reply. "I willmeddle with neither of them both."
"His Lordship spake sooth then at the least!" observed one of the amusedcrowd.
There was one man from Staplehurst among the spectators, and that wasJohn Banks. He debated long with himself on his way home, whether toreport the terrible news to the relatives of the condemned prisoners,and at last he decided not to do so. There could be no farewells, heknew, save at the stake itself; and it would spare them terrible painnot to be present. One person, however, he rather wished would bepresent. It might possibly be for his good, and Banks had no particulardesire to spare him. He turned a little out of his way to go up toBriton's Mead.
Banks found his sister hanging out clothes in the drying-ground behindthe house.
"Well, Jack!" she said, as she caught sight of him.
"Is thy master within, Mall? If so be, I would have a word with him an'I may."
"Ay, he mostly is, these days. He's took to be terrible glum andgrumpy. I'll go see if he'll speak with you."
"Tell him I bring news that it concerns him to hear."
Mary stopped and looked at him.
"Go thy ways, Mall. I said not, news it concerned thee to hear."
"Ay, but it doth! Jack, it is touching Mistress?"
"It is not ill news for her," replied Banks quietly.
"Then I know what you m
ean," said Mary, with a sob. "Oh, Jack, Jack!that we should have lived to see this day!"
She threw her apron over her face, and disappeared into the house.Banks waited a few minutes, till Mary returned with a disgusted face.
"You may go in, Jack; but 'tis a stone you'll find there."
Banks made his way to the dining-room, where Mr Benden was seated witha dish of cherries before him.
"'Day!" was all the greeting he vouchsafed.
"Good-day, Master. I am but now returned from Canterbury, where I havebeen in the Bishop's Court."
"Humph!" was the only expression of Mr Benden's interest. He had grownharder, colder, and stonier, since those days when he missed Alice'spresence. He did not miss her now.
"The prisoners from this place were sentenced to-day."
"Humph!"
"They shall die there, the nineteenth of June next." Banks did not feelit at all necessary to soften his words, as he seemed to be addressing astone wall.
"Humph!" The third growl sounded gruffer than the rest.
"And Mistress Benden said to Nichol Pardue--`Then shall we keep ourTrinity octave in Heaven!'"
Mr Benden rose from his chair. Was he moved at last? What was heabout to say? Thrusting forth a finger towards the door, he compressedhis thanks and lamentations into a word--
"Go!"
John Banks turned away. Why should he stay longer?
"Poor soul!" was what he said, when he found himself again in thekitchen with Mary.
"What, _him_?" answered Mary rather scornfully.
"No--her, that she had to dwell with him. She'll have fairer companyafter Saturday."
"Is it Saturday, Jack?"
"Ay, Mall. Would you be there? I shall."
"No," said Mary, in a low tone. "I couldn't keep back my tears, andmaybe they'd hurt her. She'll lack all her brave heart, and I'll nottrouble her in that hour."
"You'd best not let Master Hall know--neither Mr Roger, nor Mr Thomas.It'd nigh kill poor little Mistress Christie to know of it aforehand.She loved her Aunt Alice so dearly."
"I can hold my tongue, Jack. Easier, maybe, than I can keep my handsoff that wretch in yonder!"
When Mary went in to lay the cloth for the last meal, she found thewretch in question still seated at the table, his head buried in hishands. A gruffer voice than ever bade her "Let be! Keep away!" Marywithdrew quietly, and found it a shade easier to keep her hands off MrBenden after that incident.
All's Well Page 31
