Robin Tremayne

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  HOW HOPE DIED WITH EDWARD.

  "Alma real, dignissima d'impero, Se non fossi fra noi scesa si tardo."

  Petrarch.

  Thus, to soft music, with sufficient minor chords to form a pleasantcontrast to the glad notes of the grand chorus, glided in upon the stageof England the five awful years of the Marian persecution.

  Never had there been five such years in England. The sanguinarystruggles of the Roses, the grinding oppression of Henry the Seventh,the spasmodic cruelties of Henry the Eighth, were not to be comparedwith this time. Of all persecutors, none is, because none other can be,so coldly, mercilessly, hopelessly unrelenting, as he who believeshimself to be doing God service.

  And now the floods of the great waters came nigh the struggling Church.The storm fell upon her, as it never fell in this island before orsince. The enemy had gathered his forces for one grand effort to crushthe life out of her.

  But the life was immortal. The waves beat powerlessly against the frailbarque; for it held One who, though He seemed verily "asleep on apillow," was only waiting the moment to arise and say, "Peace, bestill!"

  The Lord sat above the water-floods; yea, the Lord sitteth a King forever.

  Yet the "rough wind was stayed in the day of the east wind." When fortyyears are to be spent in the wilderness, then the shoes wax not old, nordoes the strength, fail. But when the furnace is heated seven timeshotter than its wont, then the pain is not for long, and the furnaceholds a more visible Fourth, like to the Son of God. Only dying men seeangels. The sweet soft light of the Master's shining raiment, which wemay pass by in the glaring sunshine, is not so easily left unperceivedwhen it is the sole light of the martyr's dungeon.

  And God was with His Church, during those five sharp, short years ofagony wherein so many of her members went to God.

  And all opened with a flourish of silver trumpets. There were flashingsof jewels, set where jewels should flash no more; white bridal robes,soon to be drenched in blood; ghostly crowns, glimmering for an instantover heads that should be laid upon the block ere one poor year wereover. "Man proposed, and God disposed." The incorruptible crown wasthe fairer and brighter.

  The last brilliant day which England was to know before that tempestbroke, dawned on the morning of the 21st of May, 1553. Early on thatday all London was astir. Three noble marriages were to be celebratedat Durham House, in the King's presence; and to Durham House London wascrowding, to see the sight. Among the crowd were John Avery, Dr Thorpe,and Robin. Isoult had declined to run the risk of having the clothestorn off her back, or herself squeezed into a mummy; and it was agreedon all sides that there would be danger in taking the children: butnothing could keep Dr Thorpe at home--not even a sharp attack ofrheumatism, from which he had been suffering more or less all thespring. Mr Underhill of course would be there, in his place asGentleman Pensioner; and after a good deal of pressing from more thanone of his friends, a dubious consent to go, _if_ he could find time,had been wrung from Mr Rose.

  The bridegrooms and brides were apportioned in the following order.

  The Lady Jane Grey to Lord Guilford Dudley.

  The Lady Katherine Grey to Lord Herbert of Pembroke.

  The Lady Katherine Dudley to Lord Hastings. [Note 1.]

  It was six o'clock before any of the birds flew home; and the first tocome was John Avery, who said he had left Robin in charge of DrThorpe,--"or Dr Thorpe in charge of Robin, as it may please thee to takeit. I know not when they will be back. In all my life did I never seea man so unweary and unwearyable as that our old friend."

  "And what hast thou seen, Jack?" said Isoult.

  "Three very fine ladies and three very fine gentlemen," answered he;"with a great many more ladies and gentlemen, not quite so fine."

  "What ware they?" asked Kate.

  "Was the King there?" Isoult inquired.

  "What ware they, Moppet?" said John, taking up Kate; "why, many a yardof cloth of gold, and satin, and velvet, and I cannot tell thee whatelse. They were as fine as ever the tailor could make them.--Ay, dearheart, the King was there."

  But his voice changed, so that Isoult could read in it a whole volume ofbad news.

  "Is he sick, then, as we heard?" she asked.

  "Hardly," he answered in a low voice, "say rather dying."

  "O Jack!" cried she.

  "O Isoult, if thou hadst seen him!" said he, his voice quivering. "Thefierce, unnatural radiance in those soft, meek grey eyes, as thoughthere were a fire consuming him within; the sickly dead-white colour ofhis face, with burning red spots on the cheeks; the languor and diseaseof his manner, ever leaning his head upon his hand, as though he couldscarce bear it up; and when he smiled--I might scantly endure to look onhim. And above all this, the hollow cough that ever brake the silence,and seemed well-nigh to tear his delicate frame in twain--it was enoughto make a strong man weep."

  "But tell me all about it!" cried Kate, laying her little hand upon herfather's face to make him turn round to her; "I want to know all aboutit. How old are these great ladies? and what are they like to? and whatware they? Was it blue, or red, or green?"

  John turned to her with a smile, and his manner changed again.

  "What a little queen art thou!" said he. "Well, I must needs strive tocontent thy majesty. How old are the ladies that were married? Well,the Lady Jane is the eldest, and she is, I take it, sixteen or seventeenyears of age. She looketh something elder than her years, yet rather inher grave, quiet manner than in her face. Then her sister the LadyKatherine is nigh fourteen. And the years of my Lady Katherine Dudley Iknow not. _Item_, what are they like unto? That was the next question,methinks."

  "Ay," replied Kate. "Which is the nicest?"

  "Which thou shouldst think the nicest I cannot tell," said John. "Butin so far as mine opinion lieth, the Lady Jane's face liked me the best.Maybe my Lady Kate Dudley should have stricken thy fancy the rather,for she ware a mighty brave blue satin gown, and her face was all smilesand mirth."

  "And what ware the other?"

  "The Lady Jane and her sister were both donned in white velvet."

  "And what colour were their hoods?"

  "My Lady Katherine Dudley's amber-colour, set with sapphires; the otherruby velvet, and their jewels rubies."

  "And who married them, Jack?" asked Isoult.

  "Bishop Ridley."

  "Body o' me! who ever looked at Bishop Ridley, I would like to know!"cried Dr Thorpe, coming halting in as though he had hurt himself."Isoult, if thou canst ever get my left shoe off, I will give thee agold angelet [half-angel; in other words, a gold crown]. Yonder dolt ofa shoemaker hath pinched me like a pasty. But O the brave doings! 'Tisenough to make a man set off to church and be married himself!"

  And the old man sat down in a great chair.

  "I will strive to earn it, Doctor," said Isoult, laughing, as she satdown on the hearth before him, and took his lame foot in her lap. "Artthou weary, Robin?"

  "Not much," said Robin, smiling. "The shoemaker did not pinch me."

  "Beshrew him for an owl that he did not!" answered Dr Thorpe, testily."Thou hadst stood it the better. Eh, child, if thou hadst seen the--mind thy ways, Isoult!--the brave gear, and the jewels, and the goldchains, and the estate [Note 2], and the plumes a-nodding right down--Oh!"

  His shoe hurt him in coming off, and he sat rubbing his foot.

  "Was Mr Rose there?" said Isoult, when they had finished laughing.

  "No," said Robin.

  "And Mr Underhill?"

  "Ay, that was he, in the bravest and marvellousest velvet gown ever thousawest in all thy days, and a doublet and slop [very wide breechesintroduced from Holland] of satin, and a gold chain thick enough to tieup a dog with. And there, sweet heart, was my most gracious Lord ofNorthumberland--in a claret velvet gown sewed with gold braid--and foras many inches as could be found of the plain velvet in that gown, Iwill give any man so many nobles. There was not one! And
the bonnet in's hand!--with a great ruby for a button!--and all set withseed-pearl!--and the jewels in the hilt of's sword!--and great rubies inface of his shoes! The dolt and patch that he is!"

  "I do believe Dr Thorpe had beheaded my Lord of Northumberland," saidJohn, laughing, "if that sword had been in his belt in lieu of theother."

  "I never saw him afore," replied he, "and I never do desire to see himagain. He looketh the rogue [then a stronger word than now] that heis."

  "And now, as a physician, what think you of the King?" asked John,sadly.

  "I will give him three months to die in," was Dr Thorpe's short andwoeful answer.

  By the second of July, England knew that the King was dying. No longercould there be any question of the sorrowful truth. He was at GreenwichPalace, Archbishop Cranmer and Bishop Ridley in frequent waiting on him;and summons was sent to his sisters to come quickly. On the 3rd ofJuly, which was Sunday, Dr Ridley preached at the Cross, where he dimlyforeshadowed the disposition of the Crown that was coming. All whoheard him were much astonished, for not a word had crept out before. Itwas plain from what he said that the King's sisters were to be passedover (to the no little surprise of all who knew his love for thePrincess Elizabeth); but it was not plain who was to come instead; andthe rumour ran that it would be the Lady Frances, Duchess of Suffolk,the niece of King Henry, and mother of the Lady Jane Grey.

  On the evening of the 6th of July, came a comforting rumour that theKing was better, and a hope sprang up that he would yet recover. Thosewho knew the Duke of Northumberland might have guessed at treachery. Intruth, the King died that day; but the Duke kept it secret, until hethought his plans secure for the Lady Jane's succession.

  On the morning of the 10th of July, came Dr Thorpe in great haste, fromthe barber's.

  "Isoult!" cried he, "tie thine hood and bring the childre!"

  "What is now to do?" said she to herself; but she tied on her hood, andbrought down the children with her.

  "Where be Jack and Robin?" asked the old man.

  "They went forth to Westminster together, half an hour gone," saidIsoult.

  "They must shift for themselves, then," said he. "Come away."

  "But whither, Doctor?" she wished to know.

  "Down to the river side by Saint Katherine's, with all the haste thatmay be," answered he. "Isoult, the King is dead, and the Lady JaneDudley proclaimed Queen of England, and she cometh apace from Shene tothe Tower. We may chance to see her land, if we lose no time."

  "The King dead!"

  Isoult said no more, but away they ran down the street, till theyreached Saint Katherine by the Tower. A crowd of people were alreadythere. They took up their places by the church, whence they could seethe river; and they had not been there two minutes, ere they heard asound of cheering from the watermen below; and presently the royal bargeof England glided into sight. At the bow played the standard of therealm; and about the cloth of estate were several ladies and gentlemen,all clad in mourning, surrounding a lady who sat under the canopy. Thiswas all that could be seen till the barge stopped at the Tower-stairs.Then from it (a blue cloth being first laid to the gate) came the Dukeof Northumberland, robed in a long, black gown trimmed with fox, leadinga fair, slender girl also in mourning, and Frances, Duchess of Suffolk[Note 3], bore her train. After them came the Duke of Suffolk, the Earlof Arundel, a slim comely youth unknown to the crowd, and Lord Grey deWilton. And the minute after, from the crowd thronging the postern, MrIve, the High Constable (Mr Underhill's friend and neighbour at the LimeHurst), made his way to our little group.

  "Ah! how do you?" said he. "You are in fair time to see our new Queen."

  "I pray you, Mr Ive," said Isoult, "is yonder damsel her Highness, thatmy Lord's Grace of Northumberland hath by the hand?"

  "Even so," replied he; "and yonder young gentleman that followeth is herhusband, the Lord Guilford Dudley."

  Very earnestly they looked then on the face of their new Sovereign. Asoft, gentle face, fair and clear complexion, brown hair, and meek,thoughtful brown eyes; and eyes that had shed tears but very lately.But Northumberland bore himself proudly, as though he felt himself aKing already. And very few voices said "God save Queen Jane!" Isoultdid hear a few, but few they were.

  In the evening, throughout the City, and without the gates, was the newQueen proclaimed. It was now known that the King had died on theThursday previous, and that Northumberland had kept the matter secret,until he thought Jane's succession ensured. And by letters patent,dated the 21st of June, King Edward had bequeathed the realm to theheirs-male of his cousin the Lady Frances, Duchess of Suffolk; andshould she have no heirs-male before his death, the reversion was topass to her eldest daughter, the Lady Jane Dudley, now Queen; and forlack of her issue, to her cousin Lady Margaret Clifford. The sisters ofJane were passed over, and also the Princesses Mary and Elizabeth,sisters of the late King.

  All the Queen's officers, and her Council, were sworn to serve her onthe 9th of July; and troops were sent to take the Lady Mary, who hadalready been proclaimed Queen at Kenninghall in Norfolk.

  Every body was glad to see Mr Rose come in that evening.

  "Well!" said he, "we are well into a new reign. Thank God for aProtestant Prince!"

  "There Underhill shall run a tilt with you," said John, smiling.

  "My friend, had the Lady Mary not been exempted of the King her brother,I had bowed to her sceptre," said Mr Rose. "But she is lawfully putforth; and Queen Jane as lawfully proclaimed."

  "Who talks treason here?" cried Mr Underhill's voice behind, which alldreaded to hear. "What say you--`God save Queen Jane?' I say, God saveQueen Mary! I serve not my Lord of Northumberland, for all the Papistsnick [give me the nick-name] me his spy! _I_ have not proclaimed KingJohn--whereof, as all men do know, Queen Jane is but the feminine. I ama servant of the Queen's Majesty that reigneth by right, and that Queenis Mary. God defend the right, as assuredly He will!"

  Mr Rose looked quietly on him.

  "You may live to forethink [regret] the setting of her up, if it wereso," was all he said.

  "I may live to be sorry she was ever born," answered Mr Underhill. "Iknow that, Father Rose! But right is right, and wrong is wrong; and Isay this is a wrong, and I stand forth for the right."

  "God's will is the right," gently answered Mr Rose. "Let us not fightagainst God."

  "And be you ware you do not!" cried Mr Underhill in his ringing voice."How look you to know what His will is herein?"

  "We shall all know that ere it be long," said Mr Rose, sadly.

  On the 13th of July [exact date unrecorded] was born Guilford Underhill,Mr Underhill's eldest son. He had already five daughters. The 19th wasappointed for christening the child, and the sponsors were the Queen(that is to say, Lady Jane), her father the Duke of Suffolk, and theEarl of Pembroke. John Avery was greatly amused that Mr Underhillshould believe the Lady Jane had no right to be Queen, and yet, becauseshe was Queen, would have her his child's sponsor. It was an instanceof the consistent inconsistency inherent in human nature.

  The 14th of July was a day of contrary rumours, and great trouble, andrunning to and fro in the streets of the city. From all sides newspoured in that the Lady Mary was proclaimed Queen--at Kenninghall, andFramlingham, and Norwich, and in all the eastern parts. The Councilwould have sent the Duke of Suffolk against her; but Lady Jane hisdaughter entreated with tears that he might remain with her; and theythen sent the Duke of Northumberland. He and Lord Grey de Wilton (whowent unwillingly, being of Mr Underhill's way of thinking) set forth onthe 14th, with six hundred men. That evening came news that Mary wasproclaimed in Buckinghamshire.

  On the 16th, at seven o'clock at night, the gates of the Tower weresuddenly locked, and the keys carried to Lady Jane. This was to securethe Lord Treasurer, (the Marquis of Winchester), who was considered ofdoubtful faith, and proved to be as he was considered.

  As the party reached Saint Katherine's on their way to the christening,th
e Lords of the Council were just riding out of the western gate of theTower. These were the Earls of Pembroke, Shrewsbury, and Arundel, theLord Warden of the Cinque Ports, the Lord Mayor, and sundry knights.The Duke of Suffolk was left behind. The truth was, that he would havebeen in the way. The Council said that it was going to give audience tothe French Ambassador; but it was really bound on a very differenterrand. Lady Throgmorton was the Queen's deputy at the christening, andnamed the child Guilford.

  "Named for a Dudley!" whispered the irrepressible Dr Thorpe to Isoult."He will not thrive, take my word for it--unless he turn out a rascal."

  Before the ceremony was ended, a great noise was heard in the City:shouting, singing, and roaring all together. The baptism over, LadyThrogmorton returned into the Tower; and the rest of the party went onto the Lamb, where they were all going to pass the afternoon. MistressHelen Ive [a fictitious person], the High Constable's daughter, carriedthe baby, and accompanied Isoult; but Mr Ive said he would go up toAldgate, and see what all the tumult had been; so away he went, whilethe others rested and talked, and ate ale-brew [ale and bread, sometimescalled aleberry] and spiced cake; and Kate was wonderfully pleased withthe baby. All at once, as they sat thus, Mr Ive returned, his faceshowing that he brought strange tidings.

  "They have proclaimed Queen Mary!" he cried breathlessly.

  "Who have?" asked Mr Underhill, turning round.

  "The Lords of the Council," answered he.

  "Robin Hood's tales!" cried Mr Underhill.

  "'Tis truth," responded Mr Ive.

  "The Council of Queen Jane to proclaim Queen Mary!" said Mr Underhill,scornfully. "Ive, you are mad as a March hare."

  "`Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton,'" said Dr Thorpe, shrugging hisshoulders.

  "Bate your aces, and catch your March hares," answered Mr Ive, who tookall this banter very pleasantly; "but this is truth that I do tell you.An hour gone, we being in the church, when we heard that mighty bruitfrom the City, was Queen Mary proclaimed in Cheapside by the Council.Their audience to the French King's Ambassador was but a feint, to getwell and all together out of the Tower. And when they came to theChepe, they called an halt; and my Lord of Arundel, stepping forwards,did there, in the hearing of all the people, proclaim--`Mary, by thegrace of God, of England, France, and Ireland, Queen'--and so forth.And no sooner said than every man in the street flung up his cap, andthe people cheered as they had gone mad for joy. The Earl of Pembrokethrew down in the street his cap full of angelets."

  "My word on't, but I would Walter had been there, to run about andgather them up!" said Dr Thorpe. "We might have gleaned that comfortthence, at least."

  "And at the windows of many houses in the City," continued Mr Ive,"money was thrown out; and bonfires all along the Chepe and Poultry bea-lighting, and at all the gates, and in Cornhill, and Fleet Street, andAldersgate Street, and I know not where else; and (say they) suchshouting, crying, and singing of the people, ringing of bells, playingof organs, tables of meal and drink setting forth in every street; andsuch racket and bruit, as a man might scantly hear his own voice. Andafter the proclamation in Cheapside, all the Council rade to Poules, andthere was _Te Deum_ to be sung at evensong."

  "But who be `they'?" cried Mr Underhill. "Who told you all this jollytale?"

  "The keeper of Aldgate, and your friend Mr Newman, and George Ferris,and divers other. I gat not all from one man."

  "Newman and Ferris! Then it is true," murmured Mr Underhill, verygravely.

  It was true. Before night they knew all concerning this deed oftreachery.

  And--last and worst of all--no sooner did the Duke of Suffolk, withinthe Tower, hear that the Council had proclaimed Queen Mary without, thanout he came upon the hill, and saying "he was but one man, and would notwithstand all the Council," proclaimed Queen Mary on Tower Hill, to theruin of his own daughter: and then went into London, leaving poor LadyJane almost alone in the Tower,--for only Lord Guilford, and the Duchessof Northumberland, and Lady Throgmorton and her husband Sir Nicholas,and Sir John Bridges, were left with her. And when Lady Throgmortonreturned from Saint Katherine's to the Tower, she found the cloth ofestate already taken down, and all changed; and when she would havequitted the Tower again, she was not permitted to do so.

  That evening, there was a gathering at the Lamb. Mr Underhill stayed torejoice; Mr Rose came to mourn; Philippa Basset came to rail; and MrHolland came to pacify them. And no very soft nor sweet words werebestowed on Lord Sussex by Mr Holland (whose words were not all peace);nor on Lord Arundel by Mr Rose; nor on Lord Grey by Mr Underhill; nor onthe Duke of Suffolk by any body; nor on any body by Philippa. Only toone no hard words were given by any; and that was the Lady Jane, whomall united to excuse and pity. But all agreed in calling Lord Arundel atraitor, and Suffolk a man too weak and pitiful to be blamed.

  All hope of the Lady Jane's success was now gone. The Duke ofNorthumberland himself proclaimed Queen Mary when he discovered it; butnotwithstanding this feeble attempt to curry favour, on the 22nd he wasapprehended at Cambridge. Lord Grey de Wilton and others who submittedthemselves early were pardoned. Lady Jane, Lord Guilford, and thosewith them, were kept prisoners in the Tower.

  Towards the end of July, Isoult and Esther were coming along theriverside by the Tower, when they saw a great crowd shouting and runningtowards them. Neither John nor Robin being with them, Isoult was ratherfrightened, and turned aside into the porch of Saint Katherine's forsafety. But when they came nearer, she saw that here were the prisonersborne under guard to the Tower. First rode the traitor Earl of Arundel,who had them in his guard; and had he received his deserts, he wouldhave been among them. And after him, riding upon horses, their bridlestied to those of the guards, came the Duke of Northumberland, his sons,the Earl of Warwick, Lord Ambrose, and Lord Henry Dudley; LordHuntingdon, Lord Hastings, Sir John Gates, and his brother Sir Henry,Sir Andrew Dudley (brother to the Duke), and Dr Sands, Chancellor ofCambridge. But when Isoult saw the face of the last prisoner, she wasunspeakably startled. Esther asked if she were ill; "for (said she),you look ever so white and faint!" It was no wonder, when she looked upinto the unforgotten face of Sir Thomas Palmer.

  Thirteen years had passed since she saw him; but Isoult knew him in amoment. All the old Calais memories came flashing back on her like anoverwhelming flood, drowning the newer evil he had done, as she saw thisman, who had persecuted the saints of God, who had done the Duke ofSomerset to death, who had been one of the four destroyers of herbeloved master--led to his prison and to his suffering in turn.

  Sir Thomas looked at Isoult as he passed, seeing her eyes fixed on him;but it was the look of a stranger to a stranger.

  The storm broke now. Few days passed unmarked by fresh arrests. Thephrase "the Queen" had almost insensibly passed from Jane to Mary. Butfor a little while yet the crisis was political, not religious. Whenthe danger was over, and before Mary reached her metropolis, the scenewas shifted, and the first Protestant arrest took place. And so suddenand unexpected was the blow, that it fell upon the Gospellers like athunderbolt. Thirty hours had barely elapsed since her meeting with SirThomas Palmer, when Isoult, coming down into the parlour, heard herhusband's voice say sorrowfully--"Ay, this is the beginning of sorrows."

  "Is there any more news?" cried Isoult, fearfully; for fresh news thenmeant bad news.

  "The worst we have had yet," he said; "the Bishop of London is committedto the Tower."

  "And that all suddenly, with scantly a minute's warning," added DrThorpe.

  "Woe worth the day!" she wailed. "Ay, thou mayest say so," answered he."God grant this be not the first step of a longer and dreaderpersecution than we have yet known."

  On Friday the Duke of Suffolk was brought to the Tower, where hishapless daughter remained a prisoner. But on the Monday following,Suffolk was released.

  "To ease the Tower dungeons, which must now be choke-full," suggested DrThorpe; "or it may be the Queen thought him a sely [harmless, simple]fellow, not
worth the turning of an axe edge."

  The Queen's grand entry into London took place on the 3rd of August.There was no need for any in the Minories to go far to see her, for shecame to them, riding down Shoreditch and in at Aldgate. She waspreceded by a guard of seven hundred and forty "velvet coats;" then rodethat "honourable man" my Lord of Arundel, bearing in his hand the swordof state; then (after reaching Aldgate) the Lord Mayor; then the Queen,royally arrayed, riding by herself on a richly-caparisoned barb, SirAnthony Browne bearing up her train. What were the thoughts of thatlong-persecuted woman, now in her turn to become a persecutor? Thenfollowed her sister, the Lady Elizabeth. What, too, were her thoughts?After the royal sisters rode Elizabeth Stafford, wife of the imprisonedDuke of Norfolk, and Gertrude, Marchioness of Exeter, mother of theimprisoned Edward Courtenay. Ladies and gentlemen followed to thenumber of a hundred and eighty. Lastly came the guard, with a crowd ofmen from Northampton, Buckingham, and Oxford shires, all in armour, andthe peers' servants. The number of horsemen, we are assured, was aboutten thousand.

  And when the Queen came to the Tower, there, beside the gate, kneelingupon the Tower green, were the old prisoners of her father and brother,the old Duke of Norfolk, and Dr Stephen Gardiner, and the Duchess ofSomerset, and the young Lord Courtenay, who had scarcely ever been outof the Tower in his life. They, kneeling there, saluted her; and nosooner had the Queen alighted, than she went to them and kissed them,and said, "These are my prisoners."

  The time-serving Earl of Pembroke had been ordered to wait upon theQueen, but was too terrified to obey. He felt himself too deeplycompromised for pardon. One point, however, he was careful not toneglect. His son, Lord Herbert, was divorced in all haste and fear fromLady Katherine Grey, the hapless sister of the "nine days' Queen."

  On Saturday night, Mr Underhill walked into the Lamb, and tacitly askedhimself to supper. He was in feverish delight.

  "The good cause hath triumphed! and Queen Mary being known to be ofmerciful complexion, I cast no doubt all shall be spared that can be."

  Deluded man! but he was quickly to be undeceived in a very personalmanner.

  "But meantime," responded John Avery, "some are being spared that shouldnot be--all them that have troubled the realm in King Edward's time, oryet sooner. Bishop Day is delivered; and Bishop Bonner not onlydelivered, but restored to his see, and shall henceforth be Bishop ofLondon in the stead of Dr Ridley. And what shall become of that ourgood Bishop no man knoweth. Moreover, Bishop Tunstal is delivered outof prison; and Dr Gardiner (woe worth the day!) was this morrow sworn ofthe Council. Howso merciful be the Queen, the Council shall be littlethat way inclined, if they have him amongst them."

  It was not yet dinner-time on the following morning, when Barbara cameup-stairs to tell her mistress that Mrs Helen Ive wished to see her.Her first words were ominous.

  "Mrs Avery, I come from the Lime Hurst, with rare ill tidings."

  "Alack!" said Isoult. "Is Mistress Underhill worser? or the little babesick?"

  "Neither," said she; "but Mr Underhill is in Newgate."

  "Mr Underhill!" cried Isoult. "For what cause?"

  "God knoweth, and they that have him," said she; "for the rest, I wisnot whether he know himself. But he was taken in the midst of thenight, being ten of the clock, and after long trial by the Council, isnow sent unto Newgate. The Sheriff of Middlesex come unto my father'shouse thus late, and brake the matter to my father, whom he desired togo with him, as being Mr Underhill's very friend; and my father didentreat him to leave him go and fetch his prisoner, for frightening ofMrs Underhill in her weakness. So my father, followed of the Sheriffand his men bearing bills and glaives, knocked on the door, and therecame one to the door, unto whom he desired that he should ask MrUnderhill to come out. But upon this he heard Mr Underhill's voice,calling to him to go within. So he went within, and found Mr Underhillin his bed; who demanding of him in his merry fashion what he didbreaking into a man's house at that hour of the night, my fatheranswered him that the Sheriff, and with him a great company were come tofetch him. Upon which Mr Underhill rose, and made him ready; andwilling not that Mistress Underhill should know anything of the matter,he would not go into her chamber for any other gear, but cast about himsuch as he had there, which was a brave satin gown that he had worn theeven afore."

  "Ay," said Isoult, "a tawny satin night-gown [evening costume] lacedwith green; he had it here at supper."

  "Well," pursued Helen, "so out came he to the Sheriff, and demanded whathe would. `Sir,' said he, `I have commandment from the Council toapprehend you, and forthwith to bring you unto them.'--`Why,' answers MrUnderhill, `it is now ten of the clock in the night; you cannot nowcarry me unto them.'--`No, Sir,' said he; `ye shall go with me to myhouse to London, where ye shall have a bed; and to-morrow I shall bringyou unto them at the Tower.'--`In the Name of God!' [Note 4] quoth MrUnderhill; and so went with the Sheriff. `Know you the cause?' saith healso; who [the Sheriff] answered that he knew of none. Then said MrUnderhill, `This needed not; any one messenger might have fetched meunto them.' So away went they, and my father turned home. And thismorning went my father early unto the Tower, where the Council weresitting, and took his place at the gate, where was a great throng ofpeople, that he might hear what should befall. It was a mighty longtime ere Mr Underhill came forth; but at long last out came he, ledbetwixt two of the guard, and my father (with a great throng) followedto Mr Garret's house, the Sheriff, in the Stock Market. There they tookMr Underhill in, and after a while, to my father's great easement, cameforth without him. Then, after some time, came forth Mr Underhillagain, with two of the Sheriff's men; but they had no bills with them,nor they led him not, but followed a pretty way behind. So he cominginto the street, my father, seeing him have such liberty, and suchdistance between him and the officers, he stepped before them, and sowent talking with him through Cheapside. And Mr Underhill told himthat my Lord of Sussex would have ordered him to the Fleet, and SirRichard Southwell cried out to have him to the Marshalsea: but neithershould content Sir John Gage nor Secretary Bourne, and they made greatado that he were sent to Newgate, and prevailed. Arrived thither, MrUnderhill was delivered of the officers to Alisaunder the keeper [Note5], who unlocked a door, and bade him go up-stairs into the hall. Myfather would not yet leave him, but went up with him, and there they satdown and had some talk one with the other. And Mr Underhill did requiremy father not to let Mrs Underhill know that he was sent to Newgate, butto the Counter, until such time as she were near her churching, andbetter to abide ill news; and that she should send him his night-gown,his Bible, and his lute. So my father took his leave; and meeting me atAldgate on his way home, desired me to turn aside hither and tell youthereof; and to ask you that you would come and visit Mrs Underhill inher trouble, if it might stand with your conveniency."

  "That will I, assuredly," said Isoult; "and it shall be the very firstthing I do on the morrow."

  Isoult fulfilled her promise. She rode to the Lime Hurst, with Tom asescort; and found Mrs Underhill lying on the day-bed [the predecessor ofthe sofa], with Helen Ive sitting by her; while Anne, her eldest girl,was nursing her baby brother, and looked very much gratified to betrusted with him. Mrs Underhill burst into tears the moment her visitorapproached. Taking the seat which Helen vacated for her, Isoultendeavoured to cheer her invalid friend. When she was able to speak,Mrs Underhill was found very resolute.

  "So soon as ever my strength shall serve," she said, "I will hie me tothe Lords of the Council, to entreat them for Ned's deliverance; andmethinks my Lord of Bedford at the least shall hear me, for the good hapthat we had to recover his son. And I will moreover get help of JackThrogmorton, Master of the Quest, that is Ned's countryman and kinsman."

  "But, dear heart," cried Isoult, "you are not strong enough to bear soweary a burden."

  "I will be strong enough!" she answered, determinately. "And to thatend I do mean to be churched this next Sunday. But to tell you the verytruth, Mrs
Avery, I do fear this shall not be all. Men do say Mr Roseshall be deprived ere many days; and it may be, set in ward likewise.Ah, well-a-day I we have need to take heed to our ways. My way liethtoward the Counter; if I might be there with Ned, I would not much layto heart for what cause. Methinks when they take a man, they shouldseize both halves of him."

  Isoult smiled, but made no reply.

  "And 'tis whispered about," she pursued, "that my Lord Archbishop shouldforsake the Gospel, and be again a Lutheran, if not a Papist; and thatthe mass shall be again set up; and that proclamation shall be made toput forth from their cures all married priests. Mrs Avery, have a careof your Robin, that he either receive not orders, or wed not. Whenlooked you for his being a priest?"

  "Why," said Isoult, "he had been ordained of Bishop Ridley this nextRogation-tide; but now I know not what shall fall, for no Popish Bishopwill admit him, nor would we ask it if he would so do. May be, if MrRose would speak with him (Robin being Cornwall-born), Bishop Coverdaleshould grant him, an' he knew the case."

  "Bishop Coverdale, and Mr Rose to boot," said she, "shall shortly haveenough to do to see to themselves. Mrs Rose is sorely distressedtouching the forbiddance of wedded priests, which 'tis thought shallshortly be had. And 'twill be no gain to be Mr Rose his son when thestorm come. An' I were you and Mr Avery, I would put him off both hisorders and his wedding."

  "We have no right over him, Mrs Underhill," said Isoult.

  "No right!" answered she. "Doth not every man that knoweth you and himknow that you have but to whisper, and he shall run at your bidding?Mrs Avery, if you asked that lad for his head, I do very nigh believe heshould cut it off for you."

  "I must talk with Jack of this matter," responded Isoult, thoughtfully.

  So, when she left the Lime Hurst, she came home to dinner, and afterdinner rode on to West Ham. In the parlour there she found Thekla ather spinning; but Mrs Rose (a most unwonted thing for her), sat by thecasement idle, with her hands lying before her.

  "Hear you Mr Underhill is in prison?" were her first words.

  "Ay," said Isoult; "and that you, dear friend, are sore disquieted, forthe which cause I come."

  "Disquieted!" she answered, the tears springing to her eyes. "Is itlike I shall be quiet? How know I who shall be in prison to-morrow?They may burn mine husband and banish me before a month. And what is tocome of Thekla?"

  "Dear mother," said Thekla, gently, "they will not put God in prison."

  "They may put there every servant that He hath," said she, bitterly.

  "I think you know, dear heart," replied Isoult, "that so long as we haveany shelter to offer unto her, Thekla shall not be without one."

  "But how long may be that?" she answered; and, burying her face in herhandkerchief, she began sobbing.

  Isoult hardly knew what to say, but she heard Mr Rose's step, andawaited his coming. He greeted her kindly, and then turning at once tohis wife, said, "Sweet heart, why weepest thou?"

  "Mrs Rose feareth we may all be prisoned or execute afore a month beover," said Isoult, for Mrs Rose was sobbing too heartily to speak.

  "Truth," he answered. "What then?"

  "What then?" she cried through her tears. "Why, Tom, art thou mad?`What then,' to such matter as the breaking of our hearts and theburning of our bodies? `What then!'"

  "Then," said he, gently, "thou art not ready (as Paul was) `not only tobe bound, but also to die' for the Lord Jesus? Is it so, myMarguerite?"

  "I know not what I were ready to do myself," she said, "but I am notready to see thee nor Thekla to do so."

  "Well, sweet heart," said he, "methinks I am ready. Ready--to beconfessed before the angels of God, and the Father which is in Heaven:ready--to wear a martyr crown before all the world: ready--to reign withChrist a thousand years! Is that matter to be wept for, Marguerite?"

  "There is something else to come first," she said, shaking her head.

  "There is so," replied he. "To confess Christ, ere He confess us: to beenvied of angels, that have no such means of showing forth His glory: togive a very little thing for the Redeemer who gave all He is, and all Hehath, for us. Is that, also, matter for tears?"

  "Ah, Tom!" said she, smiling through her tears, "thou turnest it all tothe contrary. But thou knowest what I mean."

  "The brighter and better way," he answered. "But I do know thy meaning,dear heart. And in truth, it is hard, and the flesh is weak. Butremember, our Lord knoweth that as well as we. He hath not forgottenthe days of His flesh, when He offered up prayer, with strong crying andtears, to Him that was able to save Him from death; though there wereone thing (and that the worst thing) in His sorrow, that there can neverbe in ours. The way may be rough and stony--but, mind thou, it is onlyvery short."

  "When it may last for all the life, Tom! Hard prison, and scant fare,and loneliness, and bitter mourning! Methinks the death were betterthan that."

  "Very short, still," repeated he, "to the endless days of eternity. Thedays of the journey be few indeed, compared with the number of those tobe spent in the Father's House. And, sweet heart, even should we beforced to go that journey apart, we will strive to look forward to theglad meeting in the Home."

  "Apart!" she echoed drearily, and her tears came streaming back. "OTom, Tom!"

  "I meant not to make thee weep again," he said, tenderly; "and yet thereis no good in shutting our eyes on a sorrow that must come, though therebe little use in grieving over such as may never come. It is not yetcome; and when it so doth, it is only a little while. Only a littlewhile, my Marguerite! `In the world ye shall have tribulation; but beof good cheer; I have overcome the world!'"

  Thekla ceased her spinning, and coming forward to her mother, she passedher arm round her, and kissed her brow.

  "Mother!" she said, sweetly, "it may be God will let us go to Himtogether. Need we mourn for the night ere it be dark! It will be sosweet to go to Him. Will it not help us to bear almost any thing, toknow that presently thereafter we shall see Christ, and be with Him forever?"

  Mrs Rose was crying more quietly now, and Isoult rose to depart. MrRose said he would help her to mount, and she fancied that he wished tospeak with her in private. And so she found it; for no sooner had heshut the door, than he said--

  "Mrs Avery, what do you touching Robin's orders?"

  Isoult replied as she had done to Mrs Underhill, and added that shemeant to talk the matter over with John, when she could do so quietly."But, Mr Rose," she said, "your three years be already gone."

  "Friend," he answered, his lip quivering, "had I made it three hundredyears, maybe it had been the better."

  "I pray you say not that you will not give her unto him!" cried Isoult--for she guessed what that would be to Robin, and perchance to Thekla.

  "I will say no such thing," he answered. "It should seem that Robin'sorders can now scarce be had; and if it were so, I tell you the truth,mine heart were the lighter. Thekla must choose for herself. She isnow of ripe age to _know_ what is for and against the same; and if shewould have rather Robin and what may hap than to leave both, I will notgainsay her choice. But if she seeketh mine avisement--"

  "You will say her nay?" asked Isoult, fearfully, as he hesitated.

  "Can I say any thing else?" answered Mr Rose in a low voice. "Were itworse for Thekla to be let from wedding him, or to be roughly partedfrom him ere they had been wed a year--perchance a month? If Robinshould choose not to endeavour himself for the priesthood, then of forceis there no such difficulty. But can I look forward to the parting thatmust ere long come between my Marguerite and me, and lightly choose thesame doom for our child?"

  Mr Rose's voice fell, and his face changed so painfully that thelistener could scarcely bear to see it.

  "Think you that must come?" she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

  "It must come, if the Queen continue as she hath begun," answered he, ina low voice. "It may not be for long, if the Lord only try us, tohumble us, and to prove
us, whether we will keep His commandments or no:it may be for all this life. Beyond this life, it cannot be. The keysof Heaven and earth are in the hands of Jesus Christ, not in those ofMary Tudor!"

  No more was said for that time. The friends clasped hands and parted.

  But when Isoult and John had their quiet talk together, she found thathe had already been thinking on the subject; and had conversed withRobin.

  "I did somewhat marvel," she admitted, "seeing the three years for thewhich Mr Rose did covenant were run out in June, that Robin made nomotion thereunto. But verily I did think he should speak the first."

  "He hath spoken, dear heart," said John, "and I did entreat him to awaita season the upshot of this matter, till we should see who shouldsucceed the King, and what manner of government we were like to fallunder. And I pressed him with much of the same reasoning that (as Ihear) Mr Rose hath given thee."

  "And what saith he touching his priesthood?"

  "I think he hardly knew what to say."

  When all else had gone to bed, John and Isoult took Robin aside, andJohn told him what Mr Rose had said. Robin's eyes filled with tears.

  "Then," said he, "it comes to this; I must either give up mine orders,or give up--"

  He uttered not, nor did they need, the name of Thekla Rose.

  "But one other point, Robin, leave not out of thine account," said John."It may be thou canst not receive orders."

  "Why, then," replied he, "if I cannot, I cannot. But when shall I knowthat I cannot?"

  "When all the Protestant Bishops are in prison, I take it," said John,smiling.

  "Were it not better, Robin," suggested Isoult, "to fix thee a time, notunreasonable distant, whereat, if thou mayest not hap to receive ordersafore, thou shalt resign that expectation, and be free to wed?"

  "Good and wise counsel!" cried John. "Thou hast hit the nail on thehead. Thinkest not so, Robin?"

  Robin sat silent for a moment. Then he said,--"Ay--if Mr Rose agreethereto."

  "We will ask him that," answered John, "so soon as we may."

  On the 11th of August, to borrow the expression of the Gospellers, theabominable thing was once more set up in England. For the first timefor six years, an old priest sang the Latin mass in Saint Bartholomew'sChurch, to the awakening of such burning indignation on the part of hishearers, that he was compelled to escape for his life by a side door.

  The application to Mr Rose was made on the Sunday evening following,when John and Isoult, with Robin, rode over to the evening service atWest Ham. Mr Rose's sermon was a very solemn one, on the text, "I amnow ready to be offered."

  Ready to be offered! how many of the Gospellers needed to be so, in thatautumn of 1553!

  After the sermon, they waited for Mr Rose, and he walked with them forone or two miles on their way home. Robin led the horses a shortdistance behind them. Mr Rose was quite satisfied with Isoult'sproposal to fix a time beyond which Robin should resign the hope ofentering the ministry, and indeed seemed relieved by the suggestion. Athis request, Robin was waited for, and when he came up with them, MrRose asked him what was the reason of his unwillingness to resign thehope of receiving holy orders.

  Robin answered, that "having offered himself and his service unto God,he counted it not right to withdraw the same, unless it should be plainthat this was not the way wherein God would have him to serve."

  And Mr Rose's reply was,--"Then, Robin, wouldst thou give up ratherThekla than thine orders?"

  "It were well-nigh giving up my life; yet I would do as God will haveme," said Robin, softly.

  Mr Rose grasped his hand, and called him a brave lad, adding that "ifGod so would, he would be right glad of such a son."

  This speech made the tears no further from Robin's eyes, but he smiledand thanked him. And he continued,--"Mr Rose, I would have you to knowthat I do desire only to know and do what is God's will for me. If Hewill make me His minister, I will be thankful for so great an honour;for I do account the service of God higher than the dominion over men.Yet, if I can serve Him better as a door-porter or a scullion, I wouldhave Him do His will with me."

  "Ah Robin, God bless thee!" answered Mr Rose, earnestly. "Thou hastlearned a lesson which many a scholar of threescore and ten can yethardly spell."

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  Note 1. The two ladies first named were second cousins of the King, andstood in the line of the succession. The details here given are almostentirely fictitious (except such as concern Edward himself), for littleis really known beyond the time, the place, and the King's presence.

  Note 2. The canopy over the throne was called the cloth of estate,often abbreviated into the estate.

  Note 3. The Duchess Frances appears to have played a quiescent part inthis drama, so soon to turn into tragedy. Otherwise she (from whomalone the title was derived) would scarcely have borne so meekly thetrain of her own daughter.

  Note 4. This must not be mistaken for swearing. It was an expressionused in the most reverential manner, and equivalent to "God's will bedone."

  Note 5. A man infamous for his cruelty, especially to the Protestantprisoners.