Chapter II

THE summer crept on to August.

There were some more burnings. Flower, the monk who had taken a wife and preached heresy, was burned in Westminster for stabbing the priest as he gave Holy Communion on Easter Day in St. Margaret's; the ciborium had caught the blood. Cardmaker, the married friar, after the withdrawal of his recantation, suffered at Smithfield with Master Warne, the upholsterer. But the trial of the bishops at Oxford still lingered.

On the twenty-third of the month the Court returned to town. Mary showed herself to her subjects, and went down to Greenwich with her husband, visiting the Friary where her mother had so often prayed, and passing on into the Palace by torchlight. Three days later Philip took his leave and went. The Queen's health gave way once more, and she disappeared from public life.

On the day after Philip's departure Jack Norris came up to Guy's room and announced to him that he was to leave for Oxford in a fortnight's time, with Master Kearsley.

" Master Rochester told me to tell you," he said. " He had it from her Grace this morning."

Guy asked for details.

The Queen's Tragedy

" You are to go in the train of my lord of Lincoln, who is to despatch the business."

" Despatch it? "

" Why, yes, there has been enough delay surely? "

" It is high time," observed Guy coolly, lounging at the window.

He had made himself decide the question of burning long since, when he had had occasion to take a side in the discussion that followed the Spanish friar's denunciation of execution for heresy, in the presence of the Court in February.

An old priest from Cardinal Pole's household who was being entertained by the gentlemen in the parlour while his master was upstairs, had supported the friar; he had declared that it was contrary to the spirit of Christ; and had instanced his patron's own words on the subject, and the action of Bishop Gardiner in helping suspects out of England.

But Guy had supported Jack Norris in his answer.

" I cannot understand that," Jack had said. " You would surely execute for treason and murder; and how much more then, for treason to God and the slaying of souls? "

Guy burst in furiously on the mild old priest.

" Surely, father, you would not allow them to breathe God's air another moment. They infect it for all Christian souls. And what of the insult to our Lord? "

The priest had no formal answer to that. For him as for others the Catholic Faith was as obvious a truism as the constitution of the State and the Prince's inviolability. Only madmen questioned either.

He rolled his eyes a moment, sipped his cup, and asked a question about the prisoners.

" Master Cranmer is to have a further respite,"

Master Manton Goes to Oxford explained Jack. " They say he will yield. But the others are sturdier knaves. Master Latimer has a coarse wit. I would I were going."

Guy remembered a tale or two he had heard at Cambridge, and mentioned some sermons preached there by Master Latimer on a pack of cards.

" He will not have to preach, but to play them now," observed Master Wentworth, the cofferer, caustically. " And he will lose the game too, in spite of his tricks. The times have changed since clubs were trumps."

Master Wentworth had a ready, but an elaborate wit, and was forced to explain his jest at length to the old priest.

Now that the news had come, Guy was more satisfied. He was ready to grasp at any distraction that offered itself, and did not fear that his resolution would fail. But he could have wished that his own share in the work had been important. He said so to Jack.

" Well, I would I were in your place," said Jack; " this Court is as dull as hell— duller, if we may trust the theologians."

Dick Kearsley came in presently, as peevish as ever; and, under pressure added some more details. It seemed that they were to go down to Oxford on the fourteenth, and there make things ready for the bishop. Gloucester and Bristol were to send their prelates to sit with Lincoln upon the Commission. The gentlemen's own parts were to help to swell the train of the bishops, as her Grace desired the affair to be as solemn as possible.

Guy enquired about servants.

" We are each to take two," said the other, " and a couple of horses."

There seemed to be something on Dick's mind. He gnawed his nails as he talked, and glanced so often at

The Queen's Tragedy

Master Norris that at last the other understood. Jack rose from his chair.

" I must be off," he said genially, " there be mysteries abroad."

When he was gone Kearsley turned to Guy.

"He is right," he said tersely, " there is disaffection at Oxford; though nothing is known. But Monsieur Renard has been closeted with her Grace this past two days, and she sent for me an hour ago, when he went."

Guy was interested, and asked what the Queen had said.

" Why, nothing," growled the other, viciously. " She will not. But there is something forward. We are not to go as her gentlemen at all."

" But " began Guy, sitting up in astonishment.

" Yes, sir. I lied just now. All here are to think that we go as her gentlemen; but we are not to wear her livery. And she said enough to show me

He stopped and bit his nails again, staring moodily out of the window.

" We are to wear my lord's livery, then? " questioned Guy.

Dick turned on him sharply.

" Why, no, sir," he snapped, " why should we do that? That would ruin all. We are just intended to mix with the folk, and pick up what we can. We shall be given nought to do there. See if I am not right! "

Guy was still more astonished three days later, when his preparations were nearly complete. He was sent for by Sir Robert Rochester himself, and given further instructions.

" You will travel as her Grace's men the first day," said the old man. " At Beaconsfield where you will sleep, you will change into common clothes, and leave

Master Manton Goes to Oxford your others there. You will not be in my lord of Lincoln's train at all; but you must not speak of that here. You and Mr. Kearsley will take lodgings at her Grace's expense. I have told Mr. Kearsley all the rest."

Guy looked at him.

" Can you tell me any more, sir? I would sooner have it from your lips."

The old man looked at him suspiciously.

" Well, Master Manton, I will tell you this. I think there is nothing in the matter. But her Grace — Monsieur Renard thinks there is trouble at Oxford. He has had a letter; but he knows nothing."

" And why are we sent, sir? What are we to do?"

" I have told Mr. Kearsley, sir. That is enough."

Guy saw he would get no more out of him, and took his leave.

His preparations were not elaborate; he took a couple of suits for change, arranged about his horses, curtly informed Tom that he was to be his body-servant, and that the other man he was to take would have charge of the beasts. He chose his arms also: a pair of swords, a dagger, a light brigandine and a steel cap, and ordered Tom to furnish himself with the same articles.

Tom was enormously pleased. He had been left much alone by his master during the continual moving of the Court here and there; and the journey would be exciting. Still more exciting would be the trial and death of the great heretics at the further end.

Guy gave him a few facts about them on the night before they left.

" We shall not see much of my lord of Canterbury," he said; "his affair will not be settled yet. But remember, Tom, that he took a wife in spite of his vows, that he brought her to Lambeth where my lord Cardinal now reigns, in a packing case, for fear that folks should know

The Queen's Tragedy of it. He has broken his oaths to the Holy Father over and over again; feigned to marry the Lady Anne to King Henry when Queen Katharine was ye alive, and then he divorced her at his Grace's word He has taught now one thing and now another, as the wind blew. He has burned half a dozen men who were no greater heretics than himself. He has plotted against her present Grace till he was laid by the heels, and now he has to answer for it all."

Guy thought it good for the boy to know the truth before he came on to the stage, and his tales about the Archbishop lost nothing in the telling.

" And Master Latimer? " asked Tom with sparkling eyes.

" Ah! Master Latimer! Well, he has sworn one thing and done another, like them all. He has mocked from his pulpit at all holy things, and among them at good Friar Forest, who was Queen Katharine's confessor, as he hung a-burning over a slow fire. He entreated the King's Grace to give him leave to do it. He has called the Holy Father Anti-Christ and the Catholic Church Babylon. He has sharpened his wit against the sacrament of the altar."

About Dr. Ridley Guy found it hard to say much except that he too had been blown about like a weathercock, and believed and preached as the King told him. But there seemed no need to reassure Tom; the boy was content to know that these divines were on the other side to his master and the Queen's Grace. Since that was so, they must be reprobate, and no punishment could be too severe.

" But they will have their chance," added Guy, yielding in spite of himself to an unwilling qualm at the boy's vindictiveness. " If they will submit themselves they will find pardon. And it is not the Church that

Master Manton Goes to Oxford will burn them; it is the Parliament that will do that."

He took Tom down to the parlour presently, as a treat, for half-an-hour; and Jack Norris insisted as usual that he should sing a song or two before going up to bed again.

Guy sat in the window-seat, looking out on to the lawn that ran up on the south of the house into the rough grass of the park, all transfigured now in radiant evening sunlight, and listened to the extraordinary sweet voice and the ripple of the wires touched skilfully by Master Norris in the background; and as he listened he thought of the journey next day, of the pleasant ride between the fields along the Oxford road, and of the tragedy that awaited them at the end.

Somewhere overhead too in the huge palace of Placentia lay the woman in bed, whose hands held the strings that made the puppets dance. Or was it wholly her hands? At any rate she permitted it all, and with that hateful coldness that he knew so well and loathed, and admired in spite of himself. She had suffered certainly, but suffering should make a woman soft, not hard! It was different for a man.

He looked across at the two who played and sang in the mellow twilight of the room; and there was no bewilderment there. Jack's comely face was bent down over his instrument, and he plucked the strings softly as if he loved them. His lips were parted, and his cheeks flushed with pleasure. And Tom was singing with all his heart, his hands holding the music, his head thrown back framed in his long black hair, and his pale face alight with a pair of black eyes.

There were no problems for those two.

The Queen's Tragedy

It was very pleasant to Guy to find himself again in an University atmosphere: and he passed some delightful days in Merton College, where rooms had been assigned to him and Master Kearsley in the front quadrangle next the gateway.

It was pleasant to awake in the quiet academic room, to hear the sounds of the College servants about their business in the court, and the chiming of the grave bells that called the students once more to mass; to see the familiar dress in the quadrangle and streets, to dine with classic ceremonial in halls that somehow retained an air which the Court had lost, to watch the sizars, the Fellows, the pensioners, each with his assigned part — all this pleased him, in spite of his emancipation from it.

Merton College, under Dr. Thomas Raynolds, was strongly Catholic in its sympathies, and there were many victories over the heretics won night after night in the hall. Guy found himself among experts here; Dr. Martiall, once deputy commissary to the Warden, and now himself Vice-Chancellor of the University and Dean of Christchurch, dined there two or three times; Dr. Robert Ward, one of the Fellows, had been appointed to sit on the Commission; and the Regius Professor of Divinity, Dr. Richard Smyth, also one of the Fellows, and the best schoolman of his time, had already received a hint that if an execution-sermon were required he would be called upon for it.

Guy learnt a good deal during the week or two before the Commissioners arrived of the condition of the prisoners, and the effect of their presence upon the University. It seemed that they passed their time contentedly enough, but in private, and separated from one another, Master Cranmer in Bocardo, Master Ridley

Master Manton Goes to Oxford in the Mayor's house, and Master Latimer in other lodgings. They had been examined more than once since their arrival together eighteen months before, and the Archbishop again only a few days previously; but their residence for so long did not conduce altogether to the peace of the University and the country round.

" They are obstinate fellows," explained Dr. Ward one evening as they sat at supper in the dark old hall, " and have the trick of speaking coram populo. If theology were not a science if would be easy enough to convince all men of their heresy; but now that every Jack thinks himself a doctor it is hard to show the common folk the subtleties of the New Law."

Then he went off into a learned discussion, his finger tips together; and Guy left off attending.

It seemed from what he heard on that and subsequent evenings that the state of public feeling was only as vaguely known as Master Rochester had hinted. There were malcontents certainly, as there were everywhere; but it appeared from the pamphlets and papers that were found here and there that the punishment of heresy was an occasion rather than the cause of the disaffection. It was Mary's Spanish marriage rather than religion that distressed the common people; but the imprisonment of the divines here served as a useful goad to drive them towards revolt. Of any positive intention of rebellion there was no more evidence than that offered by the anonymous lampoons and the occasional brawls. Still, he understood that he was here to keep his ears open, and determined to fulfil his mission.

On the twenty-eighth of September the Commissioners arrived, and Guy went out to meet them. There seemed sufficient enthusiasm as the procession came into the City along the London road, with the three bishops in

The Queen's Tragedy their purple and insignia, riding together in the midst with their chaplains and gentlemen behind them; and there were no unfortunate incidents to mar the general impression.

The following day was full of suppressed excitement; great numbers of people came in from the country round, and Guy and Tom amused themselves by visiting the Divinity School and St. Mary's church where the work-men were busy with the preparations for the trial.

On the last day of September the examinations began.

Guy and Tom breakfasted early, and set out immediately after mass in the College chapel. But they were too late to get inside. The schools were already full to overflowing, and a mob surged and clamoured on the steps and in the street. The two managed to force their way almost to the door; and there stood gripping the stonework, and watching the faces below.

There seemed every kind of character there; and Guy, remembering for what reason he had been sent to Oxford, kept his eyes and ears wide open.

There were students of the University, Masters of Arts, Doctors in their scarlet, country gentlemen booted and spurred who had ridden in that morning, townsfolk, priests — all jostled and swayed and talked, half -across the roadway, waiting for an opportunity to get inside. It seemed that all were either loyal or cautious; there was not a word spoken, that Guy heard, that could be construed into infidelity or treason. The chief talk was about the chances of the prisoners, the tales told about them, the supposed proceedings inside. It appeared that Dr. Ridley was being examined first; and that there might be an opportunity of getting in when he was removed and Master Latimer took his place.

For a couple of hours it went on; the crowd in despair

Master Manton Goes to Oxford began to melt a little; and it was not until nearly eleven o'clock that a sudden din rose from inside, and people began to force their way out. Guy seized Tom by the arm, and began his struggle.

He found himself at last with Tom beside him in the front rank of the enclosure thrown open to the public. Before him stretched the heads of officials, a row of bill-men, a square block of scarlet-and black-gowned figures to right and left, an empty space with a table in the midst for the notaries whose heads were bent over it writing busily, and above rose up the high tribune, trimmed with cloth of tissue. Over this looked the faces of the three Commissioners in rochets and caps, leaning together upon the velvet cushions and talking. Above their heads beneath the window hung a crucifix on the wall, and high over all rose the dark open roof. The sunlight poured in a long dusty ray from a side-window.

Guy had hardly time to take in a general impression, before a sudden buzz broke out in the court, and all heads turned to a side-entrance near the tribune. Three or four figures were advancing from it; and in a moment Guy detected Master Latimer in the midst.

He presented an extraordinary appearance.

He was dressed in an old frieze-gown, green with age, strapped round him tightly by a leather belt from which hung a book on a string; on his breast was a pair of spectacles fastened from his neck; and his head seemed smothered in caps, all held in their place by another broad cap with flaps buttoned under his chin. He carried his hat in his hand, and blinked at the sunshine that streamed straight upon him. Guy only had time for one glance at his face, which was ruddy and strong and fringed with grey hair, before the prisoner turned

The Queen's Tragedy in his place and presented his back between his warders.

The buzz died to silence as a strong rough voice broke out —

" My lords, if I appear again, I pray you not to send for me until you be ready; I am an old man, and it is great hurt to me to tarry so long gazing upon the cold walls."

There was a faint murmur of laughter at his harsh complaint; the bishop of Lincoln glanced about him from his high seat, and then answered courteously —

" Master Latimer, I am sorry that you are brought so soon, although it is the bailiff's fault and not mine. It shall be amended."

Then the examination began.

Guy listened for a minute or two to the bishop's charge, which was quietly and persuasively delivered. He began at once by entreating the prisoner to consider the unity of the Catholic Church; it was true that many had fallen from it in recent times; that now all the kingdom had returned led by the Queen's Majesty, and there could be no shame in returning with it. That Church was built upon Peter, as the Scriptures of God plainly proved.

As the bishop went on to enlarge upon this, Master Latimer lifted his head from his hand, and began to unbutton his flapped cap. Guy watched him with a kind of angry fascination; it was terrible to see those old hands fumbling, and to think what lay before them. Yet — Guy reminded himself fiercely — had not this sturdy old man himself delivered like charges to culprits in even more shocking circumstances?

The bishop was just ending when he attended to him again.

" For the love of God consider your state! Remember

Master Manton Goes to Oxford you are a learned man; you have borne the office of a bishop; remember you are an old man, and specially remember your soul's health and the quiet of your conscience. It is the cause that maketh the martyr, not the death. Let not vain-glory have the upper hand; humiliate yourself, subdue your reasoning, submit yourself to the determination of the Church. Do not force us to do all that we may do. Let us rest in that part which we most heartily desire; and to that, I for my part " the bishop raised his cap to the prisoner courteously — " I for my part again with all my heart exhort you."

Master Latimer lifted his head again from his hand, and again the rough voice spoke.

" Will your lordship give me leave to speak a word or two? "

" Yes, Master Latimer, so that you use a modest kind of talk, without railing or taunts."

" I beseech your lordship, license me to sit down."

The bishop bowed.

" At your pleasure, Master Latimer, take as much ease as you will."

The prisoner sat down, settled himself and began.

:-. Guy soon lost his thread, for he was no theologian; and the prisoner so tossed about his words and his argument, crying out the differences between ruling the Church of God secundun Verbum Dei and secundum voluniatem suam, that it was hard to follow him. At one shrewd taunt the audience laughed. He ended.

" Now, I trust, my lord, I do not rail yet." " No, Master Latimer," came the answer from the high seat, " your talk is more like taunts than railing."

The Queen's Tragedy

The people laughed again once or twice at the old man's fire. Latimer turned fiercely round.

" My masters, this is no laughing-matter," he cried. " I answer upon life and death. Vae vobis qui ridetis nunc, quoniam flebitis."

The bishop of Lincoln looked round severely and called for silence. Then he added.

" Master Latimer, if you had kept yourself within your bounds — if you had not used such scoffs and taunts this had not been done. "

Guy was greatly bored before the end came.

He had been present once before at a heresy-trial in Bishop Bonner's court, and had seen that stalwart prelate lose his temper and beat upon the desk with impatience at a prisoner who would not take his point. That had been more interesting; the bishop had been so very human in his anger, and the argument on the impossibility of a final appeal to Scripture had been easy to follow; but here it was otherwise.

One by one certain Articles were put to the prisoner, to see if he were of the same mind as in his previous examination; and at the end of his short answers the notaries wrote busily at their table. The questions chiefly concerned the doctrines of the mass and of the Real Presence, and Master Latimer spoke a word or two to each.

About one o'clock came the end for that day. The prisoner entreated that he might not have to appear again.

" I pray you not to let me be troubled to-morrow again."

" Master Latimer," said the bishop shortly, " you must needs appear again to-morrow at eight o'clock in St. Mary's Church."

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

Then the mayor came forward from his place by the door, and the curious stalwart old figure disappeared.

There was a hot discussion again at supper that night, and the prisoners came in for some severe criticism for their behaviour.

" These men have no courtesy," snapped the Warden, " or rather they mock while they use it. There was a deal of play-acting to-day over cap-raising by Dr. Ridley. He would not salute the name of His Holiness nor of his legate."

" They are hair-splitters, sir," put in another Fellow. " He removed his cap at the mention of my lord Cardinal's Royal descent, and put it on again at his legateship. That is blowing hot and cold."

" They will make an end to-morrow," observed the Warden, fingering his silver cup, " and they will not need their caps much longer then. And it will be cold blowing that they will need on that day," he added, lifting his drink to his lips.

Guy obtained an order that evening as a Master of Arts; and next morning presented himself with it at St. Mary's. It was impossible to take Tom in with him, so the boy was left to do the best he could in the crowd; and Guy was passed up through a side-door to a seat in the last row to the south of the tribune where the Commissioners were to sit. In front of him and opposite sat the Heads of Colleges in scarlet; and in the middle below the throne stood a silk-covered table with an empty chair at its west side. From where he sat he could not see the high-altar, but the other altars were in their places at the ends of the aisles. The stately church was already thronged from end to end, and a steady murmur of talk rose on all sides.

The Queen's Tragedy

He had not very long to wait. A little procession appeared presently, led by javelin-men and Proctors; the Vice-Chancellor, came behind, and the three Commissioners in their rochets and caps followed after, adored the Sacrament, and went up to their seats. In another moment there fell a sudden silence, and Dr. Ridley was in his chair with his hands folded before him, and a couple of beadles on either side.

It was the first time that Guy had seen him, and he had a good view of him in three-quarter profile across the intervening heads. He seemed younger than Master Latimer, and of a finer presence. His lips and chin were covered with a beard beginning to turn grey; his eyes were steady enough as he looked up at his judges. His dress too was better than Latimer's; he wore a black furred gown and tippet, and a velvet corner-cap upon his head.

He sat now quite silent, waiting, with his eyes cast down.

The cap dispute of yesterday was resumed at once — The Bishop of Lincoln asked him again whether he would be content to do as others, and salute the name of the Pope's holiness — and at the words all hands but the prisoner's went up. If not, the beadle must take it from him, unless he pleaded sickness.

Dr. Ridley looked up.

" I pretend none other cause," he said quietly, " than I did yesterday; that it may appear that not only in word, but also by all my behaviour, in no point do I agree or admit any authority that comes from the Pope. As for taking my cap away, your lordship may do as it shall please you."

A hand from behind removed the cap, and the bishop got to work.

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

Guy soon wearied of it again, and leaned back. The whole matter was a foregone conclusion. On the one side was the prisoner asserting that there was no sacrifice or altar in the Christian community; and alleging the Fathers and Scripture in his support. On the other side the Commissioner declared that the Catholic Church was the interpreter of the Gospel, and that that Church believed in the sacrifice of the altar. Where was the ground for argument?

Why would not the authorities make an end? demanded Guy.

The bishop lost his temper once.

" A goodly receiving, I promise you," he cried, wrathful at the memory of the past twenty years, " to set an oyster-board instead of an altar, and to come from puddings at Westminster to receive! And yet you could never be content, in placing the table now east, now north, now one way, now another, until it pleased God of His goodness to place it clean out of the church."

Ridley retorted instantly, silencing Guy's merriment.

" Your lordship's unreverent terms do not elevate the thing. Perhaps some men came more devoutly from puddings, than other men now do from other things."

The Articles were presently put to the prisoner, and he answered them partly by word and partly by referring to a paper of his that the bishops held. There was another dispute as to how much Master Ridley should be allowed to answer, and then the bishop held up his hand.

Guy listened eagerly watching the prelate's steady face as he began in a deep silence —

" In nomine * Patris, et & Filii et * Spiritus Sancti. Amen...."

He was not able to hear it all; it was read so quickly;

The Queen's Tragedy but the tenor was plain enough. Nicholas Ridley was found guilty in three points, first in obstinately denying the presence of Christ's Body and Blood in the Eucharist, secondly in affirming the presence of the substance of bread and wine after consecration, thirdly in denying the mass to be a lively sacrifice for the quick and the dead. For these heresies the prisoner was commanded to be degraded from his office of bishop and priest and from all ecclesiastical order; he was no longer a member of the Catholic Church; he was excommunicated in the greater degree; and was hereby delivered to the secular power to receive the punishment prescribed by the temporal laws.

Then without a word the prisoner rose and disappeared with the mayor leading him, in a profound stillness; a beadle stepped forward and drew off the cloth from the table, for Master Latimer who was to come next was no Doctor of Divinity like the other; the notaries laid down their pens; and the three Commissioners sat back in their thrones.

Guy drew a long breath as the murmur of talk broke out again in the church, licked his lips, and leaned back, a little annoyed at his own trembling.

As he did so, he felt a touch on his shoulder, and a piece of folded paper was passed across into his hand. He glanced behind him and saw a beadle standing there.

He opened the note and read it.

" Master Manton, Master Brownrigg is here. He has not seen me yet. He is just within the great door. Shall I speak to him?— T. B."

Guy rose quickly, and made his way out.

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

Tom was standing in the outer fringe of people who were gathered about the great south door. He was looking out eagerly for Guy, and slipped towards him as he came up.

" I saw him just now," he whispered, " as he turned his head. Have I done right, Master Manton? "

" Who is with him? " asked Guy breathlessly.

" Nay, but how can I know? " said Tom.

Guy looked at him, considering.

His suspicions were all alert now. The talk he had heard in London and Oxford had affected him more deeply than he had guessed. On the one side there was a rumour of conspiracy; on the other side there was Stephen. Was there any connection between them?

He took Tom by his frill.

" See here," he said, " you love her Grace, do you not? Well, I think there may be a plot here. Master Brownrigg must not see you or me; but we must learn what he is doing here."

He drew him along the street twenty yards away, and placed him with his back to the paling that ran up the south side of the church.

" Stand here," he said, " and watch the folk come out. If Master Brownrigg comes this way, cross you over and come behind him; if he goes the other way follow him. In any case follow him to the house where he goes; and find out who is living there. Mark the fellows that go with him, that you may remember them again. Do your best, Tom. Do you understand? "

Tom looked at him mutely, with dancing eyes.

Guy shook him irritably.

" Do not play the fool," he said. " You understand? "

" I understand, Master Manton."

The Queen's Tragedy I shall stand on the other side of the way, and watch too.'

He left the boy standing there, and crossed over to the other side. There was an inn there, and a group of idlers hung about the door. Guy went through them, faced about and leaned against the wall....

It was an hour before anything happened.

His eyes moved rhythmically from point to point; now on Tom leaning back against the railings opposite with his arms curled over the cross-bar behind him; now at the porch where the backs of men still shewed listening to the voices within the church where Master Latimer was on his defence, now up to the roof, the spire and the clear October sky over it. The pause seemed interminable, as more and more he began to understand what he was doing.

The half-dozen men in front of him talked in low voices and in a dialect that he found it hard to understand. They were plainly countrymen come up to see the show, and were ill at ease in the busy town; but they had determined if they could not get inside the church, at least to see the folks who came out. Guy began at last to study their clothes, the heavy leather boots, the stained hose, the flat weather-beaten caps. One held a crook in his hands.

Then there was a movement and an exclamation, and Guy's look sped across the street again. The people were beginning to come out.

Half-a-dozen students came first, and stood talking on the pavement immediately in front of the porch. Guy frowned, moving his head this way and that, for they interrupted his view, and he glanced quickly at Tom. The boy was on the alert too, and was strolling

Master Manton Goes to Oxford quietly out into the roadway looking over his shoulder at the porch.

Then he looked back again; and Stephen was coming out with a companion whom Guy did not recognise, a middle-aged man in the dress of a gentleman. Stephen was in a dark suit and cap, and a sword trailed from his belt.

The two turned immediately to the right, and Guy saw Tom quicken his pace a little towards the other side. Then the boy wheeled round and came behind them, and a minute later, first the two figures, and then the one thirty yards behind them, turned the corner and disappeared.

Guy still hesitated, but he dared not follow for fear that he should be recognised; and, after all, Tom was shrewd enough. So he turned and went back to Merton College.

He found it very difficult to attend during dinner to the conversation of the Fellows who were fighting the theological battle over again; and he was clapped softly on the back by the young man who sat next him.

" Were you not there, sir? Have you nothing to say? "

Guy smiled with an effort.

" I am no schoolman," he said. " My business has >een the classics and medicine."

" It had been best for Master Latimer if his had been so too," observed the other, " but they know no theology at Cambridge — eh, sir? "

Guy was on good terms with one or two of the younger Fellows, who were proud at having the company of two gentlemen from Court, and found his conversation a relief from the sour silences of Master Kearsley, who sat one at the end of the high table. But Guy thought

The Queen's Tragedy their friendliness a little trying just now; he would have preferred silence.

But there was no help for it; and he was listening presently to a full and rhetorical history of the morning's disputation, and how Master Latimer had begun as usual by a complaint this time against the crush of the crowd through which he had been brought to the church. He had then answered plainly enough to the questions; and it had ended with his condemnation. He had been kept back by the Bishop of Lincoln's express orders until the crowd had dispersed, that he might not again be subjected to inconvenience.

" And the fellow had the impudence," added the storyteller, " to appeal to the next General Council. I wonder he did not appeal to God's Judgment Day."

" He did so," said Guy, " yesterday, at least."

" Well, one is as good as the other as regards his damnation. But of course the fellow will attend no General Council except where he is pope."

Guy excused himself so soon as dinner was over; and hurried back to his rooms; only to find them empty. Five minutes later there was a quick step in the paved court, and Tom ran in, flushed and out of breath.

" I have found it all out, Master Manton," he cried.

" Shut the door first," snarled his master.

Tom obeyed, and came back a little more subdued.

" Well? " said Guy, sitting astride of a chair, and putting his arms on the back.

" They are in an inn, sir; the ' Blue Boar ' in St. John's Lane. They have taken the rooms till the heretics are despatched. They have been here since last week."

" And the name, boy! "

" Mr. Christopher Ashton, sir. He has a house at Abingdon, and Master Brownrigg is his secretary."

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

Guy remembered the name. Jack Norris had mentioned it to him more than a year ago.

" How did you find it all out, sir? "

Tom began to smile, showing his white teeth, and wrinkling his eyes.

" Well, sir," barked his master again.

" I — I made love to a maid, sir."

Guy frowned mechanically. He was thinking very hard.

" Go to your dinner," he said at last, " and come back when you have done."

In less than half an hour Tom was back again with a streak of grease lying down his chin, and found his master in precisely the same position in which he had left him.

" Sit down, sir," said Guy; " wipe your mouth, and attend to me."

The instructions he gave were simple enough. Tom was to cultivate his female friend at the ''Blue Boar," and if asked questions was to say simply that he was a gentleman's servant, and had come with his master from London to see the trial of the heretics. He was to fish for every detail of information about the two men at the house, and was to report it all immediately to his master. He was not to think that any fact or even gossip was immaterial; all was to be reported alike — the number of suits that they had, their horses, their business, what was thought of them, their visitors.

" Do you understand? " asked Guy sharply.

" Yes, sir," said Tom solemnly, while his eyes twinkled in his head.

" Very well, then. And you must not let them see you. Remember, this is serious work, and may lead to great things — or it may not."

" Yes, sir."

if— (2094)

The Queen's Tragedy

Dick Kearsley looked in presently, and sat down stiffly by the fire, hugging his hands between his two knees.

"It is useless," he said grumblingly. " We should not have come to the College. We should have mixed with the common folk. They do nought but talk theology here."

He looked at Guy complainingly. He would infinitely have preferred that the Warden and Fellows should have talked treason.

" You have heard nothing then? " put in Guy absently.

Master Kearsley paid him no attention, and went on.

" I do not know why we have been sent here at all. It is a wild goose chase."

" And there are not even wild-geese," observed Guy, looking at the fire.

" No, sir," said Kearsley with a kind of peevish grin, " but there is a plenty of tame ones."

He began to give his friend more gossip about the prisoners. There had been a great crowd to see them go back to prison for the last time; but it had been a silent one; and there were no cries to catch hold of. The executions would probably take place in about a fortnight, or as soon as the Queen had been communicated with and allowed a decent space for consideration. The Regius Professor of Divinity had been sent for by the Bishop of Lincoln, and it was supposed that he was being told to hold himself in readiness for the sermon at the stake.

Guy nodded from time to time, and put in suitable remarks and questions, but he was only half-attending.

" They will be degraded from ecclesiastical orders in a few days," said the other finally. " I shall go and see that."

He left Guy still sitting astride of the chair.

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

A fortnight later the executions took place.

Guy had not learned anything of importance of the two travellers at the " Blue Boar " in the meantime. Tom had come to him every two or three days with a nearly blank report; sometimes they went out together, sometimes separately. Master Ashton had been once or twice to Balliol College, — Tom had followed him — and half a dozen times had ridden out with Stephen along the Abingdon road, presumably to his house there. They saw few visitors, but there were one or two who came several times — a Master Kingston, and a swaggering gentleman of the name of Horsey. Of Christopher Ashton Guy knew nothing, except that Stephen had been in his company eighteen months before.

That was really all the evidence that Guy had to think over as he sat on his horse on the edge of the town-ditch in the fringe of the crowd that were gathered below him round the stake; and that soon moved into the background of his mind as he watched the preparations and the gathering mob.

Overhead was a clear October sky, with a woolly cloud or two passing across it. Behind him not five yards away stood the wall of Balliol College, and opposite him the city wall now crowned by a fringe of spectators. Beneath him the ground fell away swiftly into the broad ditch that ran to the edge of the wall, and along the side of it as far as he could see to his left. On the right rose up the fortifications of the city and the battlemented roof of Bocardo prison where the Archbishop lay.

The ground about and beneath him was a dense pack of heads, all facing inwards to the open space in the centre where the stake stood, a beam of strong oak clamped with iron some eight feet high rising out of a

The Queen's Tragedy low platform of stones and faggots. This space, that contained also a movable wooden pulpit placed some ten yards to the west of the stake, was kept clear by a double line of bill-men and guards, whose weapons showed like a steel fence above the heads of the crowd. There was a deep murmur of talking on all sides, and from Christ-church came the sound of the huge Mary-bell, slow and solemn.

It was the first execution of the kind that Guy had ever seen, and he was aware that a certain fear had to be combated. He had seen death often enough, and it was not that that frightened him. It was the dignity of the prisoners, the history of honour that was leading to such an end, and the cause for which they suffered; mingled with this was the thought of the peculiar agony that he would witness. He had been a little reassured however by the news given him by Kearsley that morning that, as usual, gunpowder would be allowed to the prisoners to shorten their pain. Yet, fire was fire! Yes! he said to himself fiercely, and fire was their due!

He was conscious, too, though in a confused manner, that this scene would be a kind of test of his firmness, or rather an opportunity of increasing it. A work lay before him which, in all probability, would require that virtue in an extreme degree — a work which, it seemed to him, there was no evading. He determined, therefore, to be rigid, and, for the twentieth time, in order to crush down the last lingering touch of sympathy in himself, he recalled the conditions under which these seditious heretics suffered. They had known the penalty of the game when they embarked upon it; they had approved of that same penalty when in past days they had the upper hand. It was with the sanction of these and others like them that the Religious of King Henry's days had agonised under the knife, and poor crack-brained fanatics

Master Manton Goes to Oxford had been burned by the Defender of the Faith and his son for heresy on the doctrine of baptism. The Carthusians and the Franciscans too, the great abbots, whose names were now again honoured, had suffered for allegiance to the Faith in which they had been brought up, and than which none other had been previously known in England; while these who were to die this morning were to suffer for new doctrines that they had voluntarily embraced in place of the Old Religion. It might be bad policy to burn them, it might even be, as Father Alphonso di Castro had proclaimed before the Court, contrary to Christ's Gospel, but Guy did not care greatly for either of those considerations.

The crowd was very quiet except for the steady murmur of talk; Guy passed the time by listening to the scraps of conversation he could catch from those who stood by him. There were a couple of students on his left, in gay clothes, who seemed absorbed in the physical details of death by burning, and exchanged statistics of the time that various persons had taken in dying; Master Robert Glover only had a minute or two of it, said one who seemed to come from Lichfield; old Master Rawlins, however, had had more of it at Cardiff. On the other side stood an old man in a Master's gown who talked to himself in his beard — scraps of theological controversy, staring all the while with bleared eyes at the stake and the heap of faggots and straw beside it and the pulpit. From a window behind Guy's station came other fragments of talk, and on turning in his saddle he saw faces at every opening, and even high above looking over the parapet.

The murmur suddenly grew louder, a rustle of expectation sounded on all sides, and bills were seen advancing slowly through the crowd from the direction of Bocardo.

The Queen's Tragedy

Master Ridley came first with Mr. Irish in his mayor's robes walking on one side of him, an alderman on the other, and a little group behind.

As he came out into the open space by the stake Guy could see him plainly. He was in his black furred gown and tippet, with his velvet cap on his head, and walked steadily enough with upraised hands, turning his bearded face neither to right nor left. He went forward to the stake and stood a moment alone, looking at it. Then he turned round and his face changed.

An extraordinary figure had just entered the arena behind him, with an old buttoned cap upon the head, holding in its place a white handkerchief with its ends hanging down, a frieze gown covering the knees, and a kind of white underskirt falling to the feet below.

Dr. Ridley came briskly forward, took the old man by the shoulders and kissed him.

Then the two turned together towards the stake.

The arena was filling fast now, and as Guy ran his eyes over it he recognised many whom he knew. Standing by a long settle placed near the pulpit were Lord Williams of Thame, Lord Chamberlain to the Prince of Spain, talking with the Vice-Chancellor and one or two others; and Dr. Richard Smyth in surplice and scarlet hood was just going up the steps of the tribune. On this side was another group, with their backs turned to Guy talking eagerly together.

When he looked back again at the prisoners the two were kneeling one behind the other at the stake, engaged in their prayers

A minute later the magnates were seated; Masters Ridley and Latimer had risen and were standing with their friends, and Dr. Smyth, aloft in the pulpit, raised his hand for silence.

Master Manton Goes to Oxford

" Si corpus meum tradam igni, charitatem autem non hdbeam, nihil inde utilitatis cafio."

Then he gave it out in English, turning his head from side to side, and his voice sounded clear and distinct across the silent crowd.

" If I yield my body to the fire, and have not charity, I gain nothing thereby."

He made the sign of the cross and began to preach.

It was a very short sermon, not more than a quarter of an hour; and was interrupted more than once by gestures of dissent from the two prisoners, who watched him closely.

The preacher warned his congregation against the doctrines of these men, showing how to leave the unity of the Catholic Church led infallibly to interminable disputes and contradictions. Already were the Protestants divided into half a dozen sects, with promise of more to follow. Neither were the people to think that death made the martyr, but rather the opinions and goodwill of those that died. The woman that had died by her own hand in Oxford a week before was no martyr. Finally he urged the prisoners to recant before it was too late. Let them have pity on themselves and turn and ask pardon!

" The Queen's clemency will yet give you your lives," he cried. " And God's mercy your salvation."

Again he made the sign of the cross, and turned to leave the pulpit.

A murmur of talk had broken out again, and Guy could not catch what Ridley was saying. He seemed to be speaking across to the officials who sat still on their bench. He was kneeling now with his hands out-stretched, with Latimer on his left.

The Vice-Chancellor rose and came towards them,

The Queen's Tragedy with a couple of bailiffs beside him, and together they lifted the prisoners to their feet. There was a short colloquy, and Ridley turned round.

" I commit our cause," he cried, " to Almighty God, which shall indifferently judge all."

Then he walked towards the stake, and Master Latimer followed.

In five minutes all was ready, and the two climbed up on to the low platform of stones put about the stake.

Guy strained his eyes to see them. There seemed a faint red mist between him and them, in which the figures danced and wavered as if seen through water. He was furious with himself, with the fierce loathing against the miserable Queen that surged up within him as he watched the scene, with his own beating heart, with his clenched hands that shook on the pommel of his saddle; he knew that he could only keep his pity down by a sheer constrained effort of the will. For a moment it mastered him; he stood where they stood with a certainty of a blessed eternity in their hearts, and rank after rank of hostile faces without. Then again he controlled it, and saw two pestilent heretics, enemies to God and man, foresworn and mad with pride, ringed by temporal and eternal fire.

There they were!

Master Latimer faced him, standing with his back to the post in a long white shroud falling to his feet, and the handkerchief on his head. He seemed taller and more upright than in his old cap and gown, and his ruddy bearded face looked out steadily at the crowd that surged to get a sight. On the other side Master Ridley was standing, his white shirt showing on one side of the post against which he leaned. Then Guy saw his hand go

Master Manton Goes to Oxford up; but he could not hear what was said. He made another fierce internal act of hatred and contempt.

A smith was by them now with a long chain in his hand. Master Latimer lifted his arms to allow it to pass beneath them; and presently it was fastened about the bodies of both, and the man was driving a staple to secure it to the post itself.

There was someone talking to Master Ridley now, as the men began to bring up the faggots; he had something in his hand; but Guy could not see what it was. Presently, however, the gentleman came round to Master Latimer, and began to fumble with his shroud, passing strings over his shoulders and round his waist.

Then Guy understood, and torn by passion, he cried out —

" No powder! " he shouted, and then stopped, abashed by his own fury and the ripple of faces turned for an instant towards his own.

The crowd was very quiet now; the murmur of talk had died away, but the heads were shifting this way and that as the people struggled for a better view.

Guy was watching every detail so closely that he was scarcely conscious of his own beating heart, or of his horse who tossed his head and stamped with the long wait. Once he looked up towards the tower of Bocardo, a stone's throw away to his right, and saw that three heads were there watching the tragedy.

There was a crackle from the arena, and a man ran forward with a faggot from which a little smoke was curling up, and laid it at Dr. Ridley's feet. Simultaneously another did the same for Master Latimer, and a murmur rose and fell from the straining crowd. Guy moaned once in the stress of the conflict that was wrenching him.

The Queen's Tragedy

A voice cried something from the stake as man after man ran up with faggots and straw, gradually raising a wall of them round the two white figures at the stake. Smoke began to pour out, and a vivid tongue of flame shot up once or twice in the midst of it.

There was a loud cry —

"In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum! "

Then another from this side, hoarse and choked with smoke.

" O Father of Heaven, receive my soul! "

There was a loud report; and through the heavy drifting smoke that poured up thicker and thicker, Guy saw something fall forward. When he could see the post again for a moment, the upper part of it on this side was clear.

But there was still movement on the other side. Once he saw arms shoot out of the smoke, and twice heard a scream of pain, that tore his own heart, as he murdered the pity that it inspired.

" I cannot burn. For Christ's sake "

The bill-men were busy now about his feet; a flaming mass of gorse rolled out and lay smoking; and up to heaven, blotting out the clear sky over the city wall rose a cloud of black vapour.

Again there was the cry from the stake, and a faggot fell out of the heap. A man with a bill-hook was tugging and pushing this way and that to allow the flames to rise. One long tongue shot up; then another; there were a couple of quick reports; something wheeled in the smoke and fell sideways; and then there was silence except for the roar of the fire, the rising murmur from the crowd, and the solemn shock of the Mary-bell over-head in the smoky air.

Guy turned his horse homewards half-an-hour latei, 178

Master Manton Goes to Oxford noticing nothing of the crowds that clamoured and jostled along the street towards Merton.

He was quieter now; the conflict was over; and pity lay dead — pity for those who were dead, and, as he thought, for the Queen who yet lived. He knew now that he could do anything that would be asked; there was no sacrifice that he could not offer if his intellect approved and his will dictated it. He dimly recognised that the last hour had been decisive in his own soul; that a battle had been fought there between his emotions and his intentions, and that the latter had gained the victory. He had seen a pitiable sight, a mistake, a martyrdom though for an unworthy cause; he had seen two obstinate old men who believed they were serving God, suffering acute mental and physical agony; and his will had driven down aqji beaten the response that his heart had made.

He was clear-headed now about Stephen; there should be no thought of relenting, but it should not be for the Queen's sake but his own.

As he came within sight of Merton, Dick Kearsley trotted up beside him; his face was flushed and animated.

" Well, that is over," he said.

Guy said nothing, and the other looked at him curiously.

" Why, you are white," he said.

Guy smiled, but said nothing.

" Master Cranmer was on the top of Bocardo," went on Kearsley, " with Friar Soto. I trust it has been a lesson to him. I saw Master Kingston in the crowd."

Guy turned to him sharply.

" Who is that? " he said.

"Why, Master Kingston, lately from the Tower." 179

The Queen's Tragedy

"The Tower?"

" Yes, sir; he was put there for seditious language. Do you know aught of him? "

Guy shook his head.

" Nothing but what you tell me," he said.

When Dick left him a moment later to take his horse to the stables, Guy was even paler than he had been just now; his lips were sucked in, and his eyes bright and hard. It was Master Kingston's name that Tom had mentioned to him as being one of the visitors at the " Blue Boar." Was it not one more indication then that Stephen was in bad company?

There was a figure waiting at Merton gateway that ran forward as he drew up.

It was Tom, and his face was lit by excitement.

" Master Manton," he whispered, holding the stirrup for his master to dismount.

" Master Manton; they have left this morning."

Guy paused, with his right foot dangling.

" How do you know? "

" I was there before the burning. Jane told me that the luggage was sent on to London; and that they were to ride there when all was over."

Guy, in the saddle, was motionless so long, that the boy released the leather and looked up at him astonished.

" Will you not dismount " he began, and then stopped, half-frightened at his master's face.

Still Guy waited, staring down at the boy with steady calculating eyes, and twisting a wisp of mane between his fingers. Then he drew a long breath, and fumbled for the off-stirrup with his foot.

" You must come with me, Tom," he said briskly, " and show me the way to the inn."

Plus amid nocuimus quam inimici,

Quint. Decl.