The King's Daughters

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  BEFORE THE COMMISSIONERS.

  "Bessy," said Cissy in a whisper, "do you think they'll burn us allto-day?"

  "I reckon, sweet heart, they be scarce like to burn thee."

  "But they'll have to do to me whatever they do to Father!" cried Cissy,earnestly.

  "Dear child, thou wist not what burning is."

  "Oh, but I've burnt my fingers before now," said Cissy, with an air ofextensive experience which would have suited an old woman. "It's notproper pleasant: but the worst's afterwards, and there wouldn't be anyafterwards, would there? It would be Heaven afterwards, wouldn't it? Idon't see that there's so much to be 'feared of in being burnt. If theydidn't burn me, and did Will and Baby, and--and Father"--and Cissy'svoice faltered, and she began to sob--"that would be dreadful--dreadful!O Bessy, won't you ask God not to give them leave? They couldn't,could they, unless He did?"

  "Nay, dear heart, not unless He did," answered Elizabeth, feeling herown courage strengthened by the child's faith.

  "Then if you and I both ask Him _very_ hard,--O Bessy! don't you thinkHe will?"

  Before Elizabeth could answer, Johnson said--"I wouldn't, Cis."

  "You wouldn't, Father! Please why?"

  "Because, dear heart, He knoweth better than we what is good for us.Sometimes, when folk ask God too earnestly for that they desire, He letsthem have it, but in punishment, not in mercy. It would have been asight better for the Israelites if they hadn't had those quails. Dostthou mind how David saith, `He gave them their desire, but sent leannesswithall into their souls?' I'd rather be burnt, Cis, than live with alean soul, and my Father in Heaven turning away His face from me."

  Cissy considered. "Father, I could never get along a bit, if you wereso angry you wouldn't look at me!"

  "Truly, dear heart, and I would not have my Father so. Ask the Lordwhat thou wilt, Cis, if it be His will; only remember that His will isbest for us--the happiest as well as the most profitable."

  "Wilt shut up o' thy preachment?" shouted Wastborowe, with a severe blowto Johnson. "Thou wilt make the child as ill an heretic as thyself, andwe mean to bring her up a good Catholic Christian!"

  Johnson made no answer to the gaoler's insolent command. A look ofgreat pain came into his face, and he lifted his head up towards thesky, as if he were holding communion with his Father in Heaven.Elizabeth guessed his thoughts. If he were to be martyred, and hislittle helpless children to be handed over to the keeping of priests whowould teach them to commit idolatry, and forbid them to read the Bible--that seemed a far worse prospect in his eyes than even the agony ofseeing them suffer. That, at the worst, would be an hour's anguish, tobe followed by an eternity of happy rest: but the other might mean theloss of all things--body and soul alike. Little Will did not enter intothe matter. He might have understood something if he had been payingattention, but he was not attending, and therefore he did not. ButCissy, to whom her father was the centre of the world, and who knew hisvoice by heart, understood his looks as readily as his words.

  "Father!" she said, looking at him, "don't be troubled about us. I'llnever believe nobody that says different from what you've learned us,and I'll tell Will and Baby they mustn't mind them neither."

  And Elizabeth added softly--"`I will be a God to thee, and to thy seedafter thee.' `Leave thy fatherless children; I will preserve themalive.'"

  "God bless you both!" said Johnson, and he could say no more.

  The next day the twelve prisoners accused of heresy were had up forexamination before the Commissioners, Sir John Kingston, Mr Roper, andMr Boswell, the Bishop's scribe. Six of them--Elizabeth Wood,Christian Hare, Rose Fletcher, Joan Kent, Agnes Stanley, and MargaretSimson--were soon disposed of. They had been in prison for a fortnightor more, they were terribly frightened, and they were not strong in thefaith. They easily consented to be reconciled to the Church--to saywhatever the priests bade them, and to believe--or pretend to believe--all that they were desired.

  Robert Purcas was the next put on trial. The Bishop's scribe called him(in the account he wrote to his master) "obstinate, and a gloriousprating heretic." What this really meant was that his arguments weretoo powerful to answer. He must have had considerable ability, forthough only twenty years of age, and a village tradesman, he was setdown in the charge-sheet as "lettered," namely, a well-educated man,which in those days was most extraordinary for a man of thatdescription.

  "When confessed you last?" asked the Commissioners of Purcas.

  "I have not confessed of long time," was the answer, "nor will I; forpriests have no power to remit sin."

  "Come you to church, to hear the holy mass?"

  "I do not, nor will I; for all that is idolatry."

  "Have you never, then, received the blessed Sacrament of the altar?"

  "I did receive the Supper of the Lord in King Edward's time, but notsince: nor will I, except it be ministered to me as it was then."

  "Do you not worship the sacred host?"

  That is, the consecrated bread in the Lord's Supper.

  "Those who worship it are idolaters!" said Robert Purcas, without theleast hesitation: "that which there is used is bread and wine only."

  "Have him away!" cried Sir John Kingston. "What need to questionfurther so obstinate a man?"

  So they had him away--not being able to answer him--and Agnes Silversidewas called in his stead.

  She was very calm, but as determined as Purcas.

  "Come hither, Mistress!" said Boswell, roughly. "Why, what have we herein the charge-sheet? `Agnes Silverside, _alias_ Smith, _alias_ Downes,_alias_ May!' Hast thou had four husbands, old witch, or how comest byso many names?"

  "Sir," was the quiet answer, "my name is Smith from my father, and Ihave been thrice wed."

  The Commissioners, having first amused themselves by a little roughjoking at the prisoner's expense, inquired which of her husbands was thelast.

  "My present name is Silverside," she replied.

  "And what was he, this Silverside?--a tanner or a chimney-sweep?"

  "Sir, he was a priest."

  The Commissioners--who knew it all beforehand--professed themselvesexceedingly shocked. God never forbade priests to marry under the OldTestament, nor did He ever command Christian ministers to be unmarriedmen: but the Church of Rome has forbidden her priests to have any wives,as Saint Paul told Timothy would be done by those who departed from thefaith: [see One Timothy four 3.] thus "teaching for doctrines thecommandments of men." [See Matthew fifteen verse 9.]