CHAPTER IX
A RELIEF-PARTY
The days that followed were very anxious and troubled ones for Ralph'sfriends at Charing. They were dreadful too from their veryuneventfulness.
On the morning following their arrival Chris went off to the Temple toconsult a lawyer that the Lieutenant had recommended to Nicholas, andbrought him back with him an hour later. The first need to be suppliedwas their lack of knowledge as to procedure; and the four men sattogether until dinner, in the parlour on the first floor looking overthe sunlit river; and discussed the entire situation.
The lawyer, Mr. Herries, a shrewd-faced Northerner, sat with his back tothe window, fingering a quill horizontally in his lean brown fingers andtalking in short sentences, glancing up between them, with patientsilences as the others talked. He seemed the very incarnation of theslow inaction that was so infinitely trying to these anxious souls.
The three laymen did not even know the crime with which Ralph wascharged, but they soon learnt that the technical phrase for it wasmisprision of treason.
"Mr. Torridon was arrested, I understand," said the lawyer, "by order ofCouncil. He would have been arrested in any case. He was known to beprivy to my Lord Essex's schemes. You inform me that he destroyedevidence. That will go against him if they can prove it."
He drew the quill softly through his lips, and then fell to fingering itagain, as the others stared at him.
"However," went on Mr. Herries, "that is not our affair now. There willbe time for that. Our question is, when will he be charged, and how? MyLord Essex may be tried by a court, or attainted in Parliament. I shouldsuppose the latter. Mr. Torridon will be treated in the same way. If itbe the former, we can do nothing but wait and prepare our case. If it bethe latter, we must do our utmost to keep his name out of the bill."
He went on to explain his reasons for thinking that a bill of attainderwould be brought against Cromwell. It was the customary method, he said,for dealing with eminent culprits, and its range had been greatlyextended by Cromwell himself. At this moment three Catholics lay in theTower, attainted through the statesman's own efforts, for their supposedshare in a conspiracy to deliver up Calais to the invaders who hadthreatened England in the previous year. Feeling, too, ran very highagainst Cromwell; the public would be impatient of a long trial; and abill of attainder would give a readier outlet to the fury against him.
This then was the danger; but they could do nothing, said the lawyer, toavert it, until they could get information. He would charge himself withthat business, and communicate with them as soon as he knew.
"And then?" asked Chris, looking at him desperately, for the colddeliberate air of Mr. Herries gave him a terrible sense of thepassionless process of the law.
"I was about to speak of that," said the lawyer. "If it goes as I thinkit will, and Mr. Torridon's name is suggested for the bill, we mustapproach the most powerful friends we can lay hold on, to use theirinfluence against his inclusion. Have you any such, sir?" he added,looking at Sir James sharply over the quill.
The old man shook his head.
"I know no one," he said.
The lawyer pursed his lips.
"Then we must do the best we can. We can set aside at once all of myLord Essex's enemies--and--and he has many now. Two names come to mymind. Master Ralph Sadler--the comptroller; and my Lord of Canterbury."
"Ah!" cried Chris, dropping his hand, "my Lord of Canterbury! My brotherhas had dealings with him."
Sir James straightened himself in his chair.
"I will ask no favour of that fellow," he said sternly.
The lawyer looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.
"Well, sir," he said, "if you will not you will not. But I cannotsuggest a better. He is in high favour with his Grace; they say he hasalready said a word for my Lord Essex--not much--much would be too much,I think; but still 'twas something. And what of Master Sadler?"
"I know nothing of him," faltered the old man.
There was silence a moment.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Herries, "you can think the matter over. I am formy Lord of Canterbury; for the reasons I have named to you. But we canwait a few days. We can do nothing until the method of procedure isknown."
Then he went; promising to let them know as soon as he had information.
* * * * *
Rumours began to run swiftly through the City. It was said, thoughuntruly at that time, that Cromwell had addressed a letter to the Kingat Henry's own request, explaining his conduct, utterly denying that hehad said certain rash words attributed to him, and that His Majesty wasgreatly affected by it. There was immense excitement everywhere; a crowdassembled daily outside Westminster Hall; groups at every corner of thestreets discussed the fallen minister's chances; and shouts were raisedfor those who were known to be his enemies, the Duke of Norfolk, Rich,and others--as they rode through to the Palace.
Meanwhile Ralph's friends could do little. Nicholas rode down once ortwice to see the Lieutenant of The Tower, and managed to extract apromise that Ralph should hear of their presence in London; but he couldnot get to see him, or hear any news except that he was in good healthand spirits, and was lodged in a private cell.
Then suddenly one afternoon a small piece of news arrived from Mr.Herries to the effect that Cromwell was to be attainted; and anxietybecame intense as to whether Ralph would be included. Sir James couldeat nothing at supper, but sat crumbling his bread, while Beatricetalked almost feverishly in an attempt to distract him. Finally he roseand went out, and the others sat on, eyeing one another, anxious andmiserable.
In desperation Nicholas began to talk of his visit to the Tower, of theLieutenant's timidity, and his own insistence; and they noticed nothing,till the door was flung open, and the old man stood there, his eyesbright and his lips trembling with hope. He held a scrap of paper in hishand.
"Listen," he cried as the others sprang to their feet.
"A fellow has just come from Mr. Herries with this"--he lifted the paperand read,--"Mr. Torridon's name is not in the bill. I will be with youto-morrow."
"Thank God!" said Chris.
* * * * *
There was another long discussion the following morning. Mr. Herriesarrived about ten o'clock to certify his news; and the four sat tilldinner once again, talking and planning. There was not the samedesperate hurry now; the first danger was passed.
There was only one thing that the lawyer could do, and that was torepeat his advice to seek the intercession of the Archbishop. Heobserved again that while Cranmer had the friendship of the fallenminister, he had not in any sense been involved in his fall; he wasstill powerful with the King, and of considerable weight with theCouncil in consequence. He was likely therefore to be both able andwilling to speak on behalf of Cromwell's agent.
"But I would advise nothing to be done until the bill of attainder hascome before Parliament. We do not know yet how far Mr. Torridon's actionhas affected the evidence. From what you say, gentlemen, and from what Ihave heard elsewhere, I should think that the papers Mr. Torridondestroyed are not essential to a conviction. My Lord's papers at his ownhouse are sufficient."
But they had some difficulty in persuading Sir James to consent to ask afavour of the Archbishop. In his eyes, Cranmer was beyond the pale ofdecency; he had lived with two women, said the old man, whom he calledhis wives, although as a priest he was incapable of marriage; he hadviolated his consecration oath; he had blessed and annulled the frequentmarriages of the King with equal readiness; he was a heretic confessedand open on numberless points of the Catholic Faith.
Mr. Herries pointed out with laborious minuteness that this was besidethe question altogether. He did not propose that Sir James Torridonshould go to the Archbishop as to a spiritual superior, but as to onewho chanced to have great influence;--if he were a murderer it wouldmake no difference to his advice.
Chris broke in with troubled eyes.
"Indeed, sir," he
said to his father, "you know how I am with you inall that you say; and yet I am with Mr. Herries too. I do notunderstand--"
"God help us," cried the old man. "I do not know what to do."
"Will you talk with Mistress Beatrice?" asked Chris.
Sir James nodded.
"I will do that," he said.
* * * * *
The next day the bill was passed; and the party in the house at Charingsat sick at heart within doors, hearing the crowds roaring down thestreet, singing and shouting in triumph. Every cry tore their hearts;for was it not against Ralph's master and friend that they rejoiced? Asthey sat at supper a great battering broke out at the door that lookedon to the lane; and they sprang up to hear a drunken voice bellowing atthem to come out and shout for liberty. Nicholas went crimson withanger; and he made a movement towards the hall, his hand on his hilt.
"Ah! sit down, Nick," said the monk. "The drunken fool is away again."
And they heard the steps reel on towards Westminster.
* * * * *
It was not until a fortnight later that they went at last to Lambeth.
Sir James had been hard to persuade; but Beatrice had succeeded at last.Nicholas had professed himself ready to ask a favour of the devilhimself under the circumstances; and Chris himself continued to supportthe lawyer's opinion. He repeated his arguments again and again.
Then it was necessary to make an appointment with the Archbishop; and aday was fixed at last. My Lord would see them, wrote a secretary, attwo o'clock on the afternoon of July the third.
Beatrice sat through that long hot afternoon in the window-seat of theupstairs parlour, looking out over the wide river below, consciousperhaps for the first time of the vast weight of responsibility thatrested on her.
She had seen them go off in a wherry, the father and son with Nicholasin the stern, and the lawyer facing them on the cross-bench; they hadbeen terribly silent as they walked down to the stairs; had stoodwaiting there without a word being spoken but by herself, as the wherrymade ready; and she had talked hopelessly, desperately, to relieve thetension. Then they had gone off. Sir James had looked back at her overhis shoulder as the boat put out; and she had seen his lips move. Shehad watched them grow smaller and smaller as they went, and then when abarge had come between her and them, she had gone home alone to wait fortheir return, and the tidings that they would bring.
And she, in a sense was responsible for it all. If it had not been forher visit to Ralph, he would have handed the papers over to theauthorities; he would be at liberty now, no doubt, as were Cromwell'sother agents; and, as she thought of it, her tortured heart asked againand again whether after all she had done right.
She went over the whole question, as she sat there, looking out over theriver towards Lambeth, fingering the shutter, glancing now and again atthe bent old figure of her aunt in her tall chair, and listening to therip of the needle through the silk. Could she have done otherwise? Washer interference and advice after all but a piece of mad chivalry,unnecessary and unpractical?
And yet she knew that she would do it again, if the same circumstancesarose. It would be impossible to do otherwise. Reason was against it;Mr. Herries had hinted as much with a quick lifting of his bushyeyebrows as she had told him the story. It would have made no differenceto Cromwell--ah! but she had not done it for that; it was for the sakeof Ralph himself; that he might not lose the one opportunity that cameto him of making a movement back towards the honour he had forfeited.
But it was no less torture to think of it all, as she sat here. She hadfaced the question before; but now the misery she had watched duringthese last three weeks had driven it home. Day by day she had seen theold father's face grow lined and haggard as the suspense gnawed at hisheart; she had watched him at meals--had seen him sit in bewilderedgrief, striving for self-control and hope--had seen him, as the lightfaded in the parlour upstairs, sink deeper into himself; his eyes hiddenby his hand, and his grey pointed beard twitching at the trembling ofhis mouth. Once or twice she had met his eyes fixed on hers, in aquestioning stare, and had known what was in his heart--a simple,unreproachful wonder at the strange events that had made her sointimately responsible for his son's happiness.
She thought of Margaret too, as she sat there; of the poor girl who hadso rested on her, believed in her, loved her. There she was now atOverfield, living in a nightmare of suspense, watching so eagerly forthe scanty letters, disappointed every time of the good news for whichshe hoped....
* * * * *
The burden was an intolerable one. Beatrice was scarcely conscious ofwhere she sat or for what she waited. She was living over again everydetail of her relations with Ralph. She remembered how she had seen himat first at Chelsea; how he had come out with Master More from the doorof the New Building and across the grass. She had been twisting agrass-ring then as she listened to the talk, and had tossed it on to thedog's back. Then, day by day she had met him; he had come at all hours;and she had watched him, for she thought she had found a man. Sheremembered how her interest had deepened; how suddenly her heart hadleapt that evening when she came into the hall and found him sitting inthe dark. Then, step by step, the friendship had grown till it hadrevealed its radiant face at the bitterness of Chris's words in thehouse at Westminster. Then her life had become magical; all the worldcried "Ralph" to her; the trumpets she heard sounded to his praise; thesunsets had shone for him and her. Then came the news of the Visitors'work; and her heart had begun to question her insistently; the questionshad become affirmation; and in one passionate hour she had gone to him,scourged him with her tongue, and left him. She had seen him again onceor twice in the years that followed; had watched him from a window hungwith tapestries in Cheapside, as he rode down beside the King; and hadnot dared to ask herself what her heart so longed to tell her. Then hadcome the mother's question; and the falling of the veils.
Then he had called her; she never doubted that; as she sat alone in herroom one evening. It had come, thin and piteous;--"Beatrice, Beatrice."He needed her, and she had gone, and meddled with his life once more.
And he lay in the Tower....
* * * * *
"Beatrice, my child."
She turned from the window, her eyes blind with tears; and in a momentwas kneeling at her aunt's side, her face buried in her lap, and feltthose kindly old hands passing over her hair. She heard a murmur overher head, but scarcely caught a word. There was but one thing sheneeded, and that--
Then she knelt suddenly upright listening, and the caressing hand wasstill.
"Beatrice, my dear, Beatrice."
* * * * *
There were footsteps on the stairs outside, eager and urgent. The girlrose to her feet, and stood there, swaying a little with a restrainedexpectation.
Then the door was open, and Chris was there, flushed and radiant, withthe level evening light full on his face.
"It is all well," he cried, "my Lord will take us to the King."
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