The King's Daughters Part 25

"What dost thou mean, Chrissy?"

"What mean I? Why, didn't thou give in? Lots o' folks is saying so.

Set thy name, they say, to a paper that thou'd yield to the Pope, and be obedient in all things. I hope it were true."

"True! that I yielded to the Pope, and promised to obey him!" cried Elizabeth in fiery indignation. "It's not true, Christian Meynell!

Tell every soul so that asks thee! I'll die before I do it. Where be the Commissioners?"

"Thank the saints, they've done their sitting," said Mrs Meynell, laughing: "or I do believe this foolish maid should run right into the lion's den. Mother, lock her up to-morrow, won't you, without she's summoned?"

"Where are they?" peremptorily demanded Elizabeth.

"Sitting down to their supper at Mistress Cosin's," was the laughing answer. "Don't thou spoil it by rushing in all of a--"

"I shall go to them this minute," said Elizabeth tying on her hood, which she had taken down from its nail. "No man nor woman shall say such words of me. Good-night, Aunt; I thank you for all your goodness, and may the good Lord bless you and yours for ever Farewell!" And amid a shower of exclamations and entreaties from her startled relatives, who never expected conduct approaching to this, Elizabeth left the house.

She had not far to go on that last walk in this world. The White Hart, where the Commissioners were staying, was full of light and animation that night when she stepped into it from the dark street, and asked leave to speak a few words to the Queen's Commissioners.

"What would you with them?" asked a red-cheeked maid who came to her.

"That shall they know speedily," was the answer.

The Commissioners were rather amused to be told that a girl wanted to see them: but when they heard who it was, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and ordered her to be called in. They had finished supper, and were sitting over their wine, as gentlemen were then wont to do rather longer than was good for them.

Elizabeth came forward to the table and confronted them. The Commissioners themselves were two in number, Sir John Kingston and Dr Chedsey; but the scribe, sheriff, and bailiffs were also present.

"Worshipful Sirs," she said in a clear voice, "I have been told it is reported in this town that I have made this day by you submission and obedience to the Pope. And since this is not true, nor by G.o.d's grace shall never be, I call on you to do your duty, and commit me to the Queen's Highness' prison, that I may yet again bear my testimony for my Lord Christ."

There was dead silence for a moment. Dr Chedsey looked at the girl with admiration which seemed almost reverence. Sir John Kingston knit his brows, and appeared inclined to examine her there and then. Boswell half rose as if he would once more have pleaded with or for her. But Maynard, the Sheriff, whom nothing touched, and who was scarcely sober, sprang to his feet and dashed his hand upon the table, with a cry that "the jibbing jade should repent kicking over the traces this time!" He seized Elizabeth, marched her to the Moot Hall, and thrust her into the dungeon: and with a ba.s.s clang as if it had been the very gate of doom, the great door closed behind her.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

AT THE BAR.

The great hall of the Moot Hall in Colchester was filling rapidly.

Every townsman, and every townswoman, wanted to hear the examination, and to know the fate of the prisoners--of whom there were so many that not many houses were left in Colchester where the owners had not some family connection or friend among them. Into the hall, robed in judicial ermine, filed the Royal Commissioners, Sir John Kingston, and Dr Chedsey, followed by Boswell, the scribe, Robert Maynard and Robert Brown the Sheriffs, several priests, and many magistrates and gentlemen of the surrounding country. Having opened the Court, they first summoned before them William Bongeor, the glazier, of Saint Michael's parish, aged sixty, then Thomas Benold, the tallow-chandler, and thirdly, Robert Purcas. They asked Purcas "what he had to say touching the Sacrament."

"When we receive the Sacrament," he answered, "we receive bread in an holy use, that preacheth remembrance that Christ died for us."

The three men were condemned to death: and then Agnes Silverside was brought to the bar. She was some time under examination, for she answered all the questions asked her so wisely and so firmly, that the Commissioners themselves were disconcerted. They took refuge, as such men usually did, in abuse, calling her ugly names, and asking "if she wished to burn her rotten old bones?"

Helen Ewring, the miller's wife, followed: and both were condemned.

Then the last of the Moot Hall prisoners, Elizabeth Foulkes, was placed at the bar.

"Dost thou believe," inquired Dr Chedsey, "that in the most holy Sacrament of the altar, the body and blood of Christ is really and substantially present?"

Elizabeth's reply, in her quiet, clear voice, was audible in every part of the hall.

"I believe it to be a substantial lie, and a real lie."

"Shame! shame!" cried one of the priests on the bench.

"Horrible blasphemy!" cried another.

"What is it, then, that there is before consecration?" asked Dr Chedsey.

"Bread."

"Well said. And what is there after consecration?"

"Bread, still."

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more," said Elizabeth firmly. "The receiving of Christ lies not in the bread, but is heavenly and spiritual only."

"What say you to confession?"

"I will use none, seeing no priest hath power to remit sin."

"Will you go to ma.s.s?"

"I will not, for it is idolatry."

"Will you submit to the authority of the Pope?"

Elizabeth's answer was even stronger than before.

"I do utterly detest all such trumpery from the bottom of my heart!"

They asked her no more. Dr Chedsey, for the sixth and last time, a.s.sumed the black cap, and read the sentence of death.

"Thou shalt be taken from here to the place whence thou earnest, and thence to the place of execution, there to be burned in the fire till thou art dead."

Never before had Chedsey's voice been known to falter in p.r.o.nouncing that sentence. He had spoken it to white-haired men, and delicate women, ay, even to little children; but this once, every spectator looked up in amazement at his tone, and saw the judge in tears. And then, turning to the prisoner, they saw her face "as it were the face of an angel."

Before any one could recover from the sudden hush of awe which had fallen upon the Court, Elizabeth Foulkes knelt down, and carried her appeal from that unjust sentence to the higher bar of G.o.d Almighty.

"O Lord our Father!" she said, "I thank and praise and glorify Thee that I was ever born to see this day--this most blessed and happy day, when Thou hast accounted me worthy to suffer for the testimony of Christ.

And, Lord, if it be Thy will, forgive them that thus have done against me, for they know not what they do."

How many of us would be likely to thank G.o.d for allowing us to be martyrs? These were true martyrs who did so, men and women so full of the Holy Ghost that they counted not their lives dear unto them,--so upheld by G.o.d's power that the shrinking of the flesh from that dreadful pain and horror was almost forgotten. We must always remember that it was not by their own strength, or their own goodness, but by the blood of the Lamb, that Christ's martyrs have triumphed over Death and Satan.

Then Elizabeth rose from her knees, and turned towards the Bench. Like an inspired prophetess she spoke--this poor, simple, humble servant-girl of twenty years--astonishing all who heard her.

"Repent, all ye that sit there!" she cried earnestly, "and especially ye that brought me to this prison: above all thou, Robert Maynard, that art so careless of human life that thou wilt oft sit sleeping on the bench when a man is tried for his life. Repent, O ye halting Gospellers! and beware of blood-guiltiness, for that shall call for vengeance. Yea, if ye will not herein repent your wicked doings,"--and as Elizabeth spoke, she laid her hand upon the bar--"this very bar shall be witness against you in the Day of Judgment, that ye have this day shed innocent blood!"