The Coming of the King

by Joseph Hocking

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE CHAPEL OF HERNE

  The place into which I was taken was of no great size, nevertheless alarge number of people had squeezed themselves in. I judged from thisthat the affair had been much noised abroad, and that justices from thewhole country side had come together, so great was the interest taken. Ilearnt, however, that the mode of procedure was to be of no ordinarynature, seeing we were no ordinary prisoners. I was told that thejustices were to examine us concerning the nature of our guilt, and thenif they thought fit, either to pass us on to the assizes or to set us atliberty, just as they felt inclined. But not being versed in the ways ofthe law, I did not trouble much about such matters. For of this I wassure: the justices would not dare to set Mistress Constance at liberty,seeing a warrant had been out against her for a great length of time,and it was not to be expected that they would have mercy upon me, seeingI had helped the woman to liberty.

  Nevertheless I knew that for the sake of their own curiosity they wouldbe sure to ask us many questions, and in this way such matters mightcome to light as I much longed to know.

  I saw, moreover, that we were not treated as prisoners of the periodwere wont to be treated. Nay more, I saw that many of the rustics gazedon us with a kind of respectful curiosity.

  "Who are their worships on the bench?" I asked of a man who hadconducted me into the justice room, and he pointed them out to me in afriendly way.

  "That is Sir John Napier," he said, pointing to a stout choleric oldman, "and that," nodding to a man with a very solemn face, "is SirWilliam Beecher of Howbury. The one to his left is Mr. Gery ofBushmeade, who fought with King Charles against the Roundheads, whilethe one on his left hand is Sir St. John Chernocke of Hulcote."

  And so on, speaking to me as if I were a visitor instead of a prisoner.

  "They are the greatest gentry in Bedfordshire, young master," he saidconfidentially, "and King Charles himself might be proud to call some ofthem his friends. Not that they are easy to get over. No, no. They areterrible hard upon them as breaks the law."

  I saw that Mistress Constance was not in the room when I entered and Iwondered why, seeing I had been brought there just after ten, she hadnot also been conducted hither at the same time. But I had not to waitlong, for scarcely had I taken a careful view of what was taking placewhen she was led in.

  There was a general "hush" as she entered, and even the justices lookedcuriously towards her, as though she were to be treated with all duecourtesy.

  For this I have found throughout my whole life. It all depends on thewoman herself as to how she is treated; and if she be not regarded withrespect it is in nine cases out of ten because of the kind of woman sheis. It may be different with men. In truth I know it is; for I have seenmen of high standing and blameless character treated with discourtesy,amounting to rudeness if not to cruelty. But few men can speak lightlyor rudely to a woman who is of gentle birth, and is in her own heart agentlewoman. If there is any proof needed of this, it was made manifestthat morning. For although Mistress Constance Leslie was the daughter ofa man whom the king hated, and although she was accused of attempting tomurder the great general by whose offices the king was brought back tothe throne, there was not one of the justices who spoke to her in anunbecoming way. Therefore I say this: If a woman receives only scantcourtesy, let her look to herself, for she will generally find thereason there. It is wellnigh impossible to respect a shrew, a slattern,or a gossip, although a man should in every case be courteous towomanhood, even if he find it hard to respect the woman.

  Mistress Constance was still pale, except for the pink flush on hercheeks, but it detracted not one whit from her beauty. Rather in my eyesit added to it. Moreover, no man, I do not care who he is, could havedoubted her modesty or gentleness. Indeed I hated the man who called herwife, and I wondered why God had allowed her to be mated to Sir CharlesDenman. But this might be because, even as she stood before thejustices, my heart went out to her, if possible more than ever.

  She wore the same attire as on the previous night, and I heard a buzz ofadmiration pass around the room as she stood there bareheaded before thegaping crowd. But she seemed to be unconscious of it, for she took nonotice of those who watched her, but instead turned her face to thejustices, as if she would read their thoughts.

  Her lips were compressed, but not a sign of fear did she shew. Not aneyelid quivered, neither did her hands tremble. Whether she saw me Iknow not. But she made no sign as if she did, although I thought I oncesaw her looking at me furtively.

  I do not remember any of the formalities which preceded the trial; butwhen presently the chief justice called her name, she bowed in a statelyway, and seemed prepared to answer any questions they might put.

  "Constance Denman."

  My heart grew bitter as I heard the name, and I thought I saw a look ofanger cross her face.

  "You are accused of attempting to stab to the heart with a knife hisGrace the Duke of Albermarle, but who was at that time General Monk, andin truth did stab his secretary. Because of this a warrant hath beenissued against you. Although for a long time you escaped the law, youhave at length been brought to justice."

  These words I have written down from memory, and although they may notbe the exact words spoken, they give the sense of what was said.

  She did not speak in answer to this, whereupon some one whispered to thejustice who had spoken, who shook his head impatiently.

  Then a man who had been writing, lifted his head and said--

  "Your name is Constance."

  At this she bowed.

  "Daughter of Master John Leslie, of Goodlands?"

  "Yes."

  "Your age?"

  "I was born on the 29th of June, 1640."

  "You will then be twenty on your next birthday?"

  "Yes."

  At this there was a suppressed whisper around the justice house. "Justas I thought." "Beautiful, isn't she?" "Fancy a maid, and a lady borndoing such a thing at that age;" and so on.

  "On the 15th of January you were wedded to Sir Charles Denman?"

  At this she did not speak.

  "You must answer the question," said the chief justice.

  I saw a look of terror pass across her face. Her hands clenched andunclenched themselves, while a crimson flush suffused her whole face.

  "What have these questions to do with the crime of which I am accused?"she asked. "It is well known who I am. Moreover, there are certainquestions which are painful, and they have nought to do with the deed ofwhich I am believed to be guilty. Therefore be pleased to pass on!"

  One might have thought she commanded the court, although she spoke in alow voice, and in a perfectly womanly way. I believe moreover that theprincipal justice would have saved her these questions, but the clerkinsisted upon them.

  "These be according to law, Sir William," he said, "and must beanswered."

  "You hear what the clerk saith?" replied the justice.

  "I repeat the question," said the clerk. "You were married, were younot, on the 15th day of January, to Sir Charles Denman?"

  She drew herself up as if to speak, but no words escaped her lips.

  "How hateful the thought of the marriage is to her," I thought tomyself, and my heart was full of joy at the thought of it.

  At this moment there was a great confusion in the court, and I saw thatall eyes were turned towards the door.

  "Master John Leslie!" was whispered all over the place.

  A man past his prime made his way towards the bench, and I saw at aglance that he must be related to Mistress Constance. He had the samecast of features, and although there were signs of weakness on his facewhich did not appear on that of his daughter, he was a man of nobleappearance.

  "I pray you to forgive my tardiness, Sir William," he said, nodding tothe chief justice, "but it was far past midnight when the news wasbrought to me in London that my daughter was to be brought before youto-day. Since then I have ridden without ceasing so as to be here intim
e for--for the trial."

  I thought then that this man would do his daughter harm rather than goodby appearing in this way, for I saw looks of anger and dislike passacross the faces of some of the justices.

  "Your presence is of no great importance, Master Leslie," said thejustice drily, "and it seems a pity that you have journeyed all the wayfrom London for nought. Besides, you hinder the procedure. The questionis just asked whether your daughter married Sir Charles Denman, and Ithink she can answer it as well as you."

  I saw the eyes of father and daughter meet, and as far as I could judgeshe seemed to wish him to be silent, but of this I was not sure. Ithought, however, that he paid no heed to her wishes, for he turned tothe bench with a look of resolution in his eyes.

  "You have asked whether my daughter is the wife of Sir Charles Denman,"he said excitedly. "I will even answer you. She is not."

  "Father!"

  The cry which came from Mistress Constance was as I thought full ofpain.

  "Be silent," cried Master Leslie. "Our God is a God of truth, and I willno longer suffer a falsehood to be believed."

  "Whose wife is she then?"

  "She is no man's wife."

  There was a silence like unto the silence of death in the room as hespoke, every one there seeming to be afraid to breathe.

  "I speak the truth, Sir William," went on Master Leslie. "As you know Iam not a man to utter light words. You have had occasion to say so morethan once as we have sat side by side in this Chapel of Herne, thejustice hall of Bedford. So you may e'en take that down, MasterCobb"--this to the clerk of the peace--"for what I have told you is thetruth."

  I looked at Mistress Constance's face again as he spoke, and for thefirst time I saw fear in her eyes. She evidently dreaded something whichwas of a fearful nature, and I sorely pitied her. Yet was my heartfilled with such a joy as I had never known before. In truth it seemedto me that a great burden had rolled from my life, for it was no longera sin to love her. I no longer hated Sir Charles Denman as I hated himbefore, even although my mind was filled with a great wonder at themeaning of it all.

  I could see that the presiding justice was so astonished that he couldnot speak, while Master Cobb, the clerk of the peace, seemed busilywriting, only to scratch out what he had written.

  "I pray you, Master Leslie," went on Sir William Franklin, the presidingmagistrate, "to speak plainly on this matter. You say that this woman isnot the wife of Sir Charles Denman, and that she is no man's wife. Doyou also say that it is not she who hath attempted the life of GeneralMonk?"

  "I do say it, Sir William; she hath attempted no man's life, and is asinnocent of the whole matter as a babe but last night born."

  "Then what meaneth all this turmoil? Why hath the warrant been issued?Why hath she been captured and brought hither?"

  I saw that he was much excited, and that because of it he forgot much ofthe usual formalities of asking questions. I judged too that MasterCobb, seemed to be hesitating between his desire to conduct the affairafter the usual order, and his great curiosity concerning what MasterLeslie was saying.

  "If you, Sir William, will come with me apart for a moment, I willexplain all these matters to you," said Master Leslie, whereupon theother justices protested, declaring that such was not the law of ourland. So Sir William had to concede that which was evidently against hisdesire to his brother justices.

  "What's said must be said in the open court," he said. Then realizingthat he had been conducting the affair in an unusual way he went on--

  "Moreover, it is not you who are at present under examination. If youelect to give evidence after the prisoner hath been examined I willallow you to do so."

  "Then let me say this," said Master Leslie, "whatever my daughter maydeny, or whatever she may refuse to tell, I shall e'en take a straightcourse and tell everything which appertaineth to this business."

  Upon that Master Leslie took a seat as near to his daughter as he wasable, while Master Cobb, evidently relieved that events were to take alawful course again, prepared to ask questions.

  Again I looked around this little whitewashed hall, and looked at theeager faces of the crowd. I have been told that many trials of note hadtaken place in this Chapel of Herne, which was a building associatedwith the Grammar School, and used as a justice court, but I doubt ifever one caused more eagerness than that in which we were now engaged.

  "I have asked you whether you were married to Sir Charles Denman. Willyou answer?"

  "My father hath told you. There is, therefore, no need for me to reply."

  "But it is necessary you should. Please tell the bench."

  "No, I have never married him."

  "Are you guilty or not guilty of attempting the life of General Monk?"

  She looked at her father before replying, and reading in his face theresolution to tell everything, she replied--

  "I am not guilty."

  "But you were seen in his house, you wounded his secretary."

  "That is not true."

  "What evidence have you whereby you can prove your innocence?"

  "I can prove that I was not in London at all at that time."

  "Where were you then?"

  "I can answer that when I am brought before a proper tribunal."

  "Do you assert that this is not a proper tribunal?"

  "Yes. If it were, my accuser should be here to accuse me. You have noright to try me here at all."

  At this there was some discussion, and I believe that Master Cobbmaintained that in the strict meaning of the law, it was the duty of thejustices to detain her until she was formally charged by her accusers,but they were too curious to allow this so they went on with the trial.

  "You say you can prove that you were not in London at the time of theattempted murder?"

  "I can."

  "Where were you at the time?"

  "Answer, answer," said Master Leslie eagerly.

  "I was in my father's house at Barnet."

  "You say you can prove this?"

  "I can prove it, Sir William, for I was myself there at the time. Alsothere be servants who can take oath to it."

  This was spoken by Master Leslie eagerly.

  "Then how came you to be accused of this crime?"

  A great fear came into her eyes again, and she looked towards her fatherpleadingly.

  At this Master Leslie spoke again.

  "I have more than one daughter, Sir William, and if this guilt is to befastened on one of them, it must be fastened upon my daughter Dorcas,who married Sir Charles Denman, and who lived in London. Thus, mydaughter here, knew nought of the outrage until after it was committed."

  "But General Monk's secretary heard her say she was called ConstanceDenman."

  "I will explain that, although, as my daughter saith, this is not theproper tribunal for her to be judged, but I will tell the truth so thatyou may see that you do wrong by detaining her as a prisoner. Mydaughter Dorcas is the wife of Sir Charles Denman, as I have said. Godhath not been pleased to give her the faculties of mind which He hathbeen pleased to give to my daughter here, and she became the slave ofthe man she married. It was her husband who commanded her to assume thegarb of this my daughter here, it was her husband who commanded her tomake it known that she was called Constance. Then," and here MasterLeslie's voice became tremulous, "after she had escaped, my daughterConstance, who hath been unjustly imprisoned, in order to save hersister, so great is her love for her, assisted her to keep in safehiding, and even appeared with Sir Charles Denman as his wife, in orderto attract all suspicion upon herself, and save her sister."

  There was a silence which could almost be felt as he said this, and Isaw that the face of Mistress Constance was pale, as I thought with fearand shame.

  "Thus my daughter here is guilty of nought save of a great andovermastering love for her sister," went on Master Leslie. "To save hershe hath allowed herself to be hunted like a fox, to save her she hathtravelled alone with her sister's husband."

&nb
sp; The place had ceased to be a court of justice, and there was scarcely aman there but who forgot that nought was being conducted as the lawprovided.

  "By this means she hath succeeded up to now in diverting attention fromher sister, neither would she even now have told what I have told."

  "This is a strange story, Master Leslie," said the presiding justice.

  "It is strange," said the other, "but I could not stand by and see myinnocent child suffer for her sister, and that is why I rode hitherthrough the night, so that she might be set at liberty forthwith."

  "And where is your guilty daughter?"

  "I do not say she is guilty. Nay, I am sure she was but the tool of theman she married. But where she is now I know not, for never have I seenher since the night when the thing was attempted. All I have known isthat my daughter here hath even made it known that she hath been invarious places, so that she might keep any from suspecting thehiding-place of her sister. Of one thing I am sure, she is far away fromhere, else had not my daughter Constance given herself up here inBedford. Therefore I pray you, Sir William, to let her return to myhouse at Goodlands, until I can prove to his Majesty's judges that shewas not in London on the night when General Monk was in danger of hislife."

  At this there was again a consultation among the justices, and I verilybelieve that had not Master Leslie taken part in the king's father'sdeath, they would have done even as he had asked, but several of themwere strong Royalists, and hated Master Leslie and all his ways, whilethe others who had sympathy with him were afraid that when the mattercame to the king's ears, he would be displeased at such a course ofaction.

  So it was presently decided that, although the case had taken an unusualcourse, nought had yet been proved, and that seeing the king had takenespecial interest in the matter, he must be informed as to what hadtaken place, and that meanwhile Mistress Constance must be confined inBedford Gaol until the will of those in high places had been made known.

  When the matter of my own imprisonment was brought forward it wasdecided that as I was evidently in league with Mistress Constance, andthat as I had been guilty of a grave breach of the law, I must also bekept in prison until their worships had heard from London as to whatshould be done with me.

  A little after noon, therefore, I was back in my prison again, and ifthe truth must be known, glad to be alone that I might think over what Ihad heard. For surely I had enough wherewith to puzzle my head. It istrue the revelations which had been made had made clear many thingswhich I had been unable to understand, yet many more remained indarkness, and in spite of many hours of thought I could see but littlelight.

  Nevertheless, there was no happier man in Bedford than I, for although Iknew that Mistress Constance cared nought for me, the way she hadlooked at me in the court proved that, I could think of her and love herwithout sin. And this I did until my heart ached with very loving.

  For four days I neither saw nor heard aught of her, for the gaolerswould speak no word, neither did Master Sturgeon come near me, but atthe end of the fourth day I was told it was the king's will that weshould proceed to London town without delay.