House of Torment Part 10

And through all the bright morning air, through the cries and tears of the country-folk, he heard one voice, the voice of a girl, he saw one white and lovely face ever before his eyes.

When they came to Aldham Common there was a great mult.i.tude of people gathered there.

"What place is this?" Dr. Taylor asked, with a smile, though he knew very well. "And what meaneth it that so much people are gathered together?"

The Sheriff, who was a stranger to this part of the country, and who was very agitated and upset, answered him with eager and deprecating civility. "It is Aldham Common, Dr. Taylor, the place where you must suffer; and the people are come to look upon you." The good man hardly knew what he was saying.

Dr. Taylor smiled once more.

"Thanked be G.o.d," he said, "I am even at home," and alighted from his horse.

Sir John Shelton, who also dismounted, s.n.a.t.c.hed the hat from the Doctor's head, which was shown to be clipped close, like a horse's back in summer time--a degradation which Bishop Bonner had caused to be performed upon him the night before as a mean and vulgar revenge for the Doctor's words to him at the ceremony of his degradation.

But when the people saw Dr. Taylor's reverent and ancient face and his long white beard, they burst into louder weeping than ever, and cried, "G.o.d save thee, good Dr. Taylor! Jesus Christ strengthen thee, and help thee; the Holy Ghost comfort thee," and many other suchlike G.o.dly wishes.

They were now come into the centre of Aldham Common, where already a posse of men sent by the Sheriff of the county were keeping a s.p.a.ce clear round a tall post which had been set into the ground, and which was the stake.

Sir John Shelton, who now a.s.sumed complete command of the proceedings, gave several loud orders. The people were pressed back with oaths and curses by the yeomen of the escort, and Dr. Taylor was hurried quickly towards the stake.

The long ride from London had not been without a certain quiet and dignity; but from this moment everything that was done was rude, hurried, and violent. The natural brutality of Shelton and his men blazed up suddenly. What before had been ineffably sad was now changed to horror, as John Commendone sat his horse by the side of the man whose safety he was there to guard, and watched the final scene.

Dr. Taylor, who was standing by the stake and disrobing, wished to speak to the people, but the yeomen of the guard were so busy about him that as soon as he opened his mouth one or another of these fellows thrust a fist or tipstaff into his mouth. They were round him like a pack of dogs, snarling, buffeting him, making him feel indeed the bitterness of death.

This was done by Sir John Shelton's orders, no doubt committed to him from London, for it was obvious that any popular feeling in the martyr's favour must be suppressed as soon as possibly could be done.

If Dr. Taylor had been allowed to speak to the surging crowd that knew and loved him, the well-known voice, the familiar and beloved exhortations might well have aroused a fury against the ministers of the law which they would be powerless to withstand.

Dr. Taylor himself seemed to recognise this, for he sat down upon a stool which was placed near the stake and did not offer to speak again.

He looked round while three or four ill-favoured fellows in leather were bringing up bundles of furze and freshly cut f.a.ggots to the stake, and as he was obviously not about to address the people, the guard was a little relaxed.

He saw pressing on the outskirts of the crowd an old countryman, with a brown wrinkled face.

"Soyce," he called out cheerily, "I pray thee come and pull off my boots, and take them for thy labour. Thou hast long looked for them, now take them."

The ancient fellow, who was indeed the s.e.xton of Hadley Church, came trembling up, and did as the rector asked.

Then Dr. Taylor rose up, and put off his clothes unto his s.h.i.+rt, and gave them away. Which done, he said with a loud voice, "Good people! I have taught you nothing but G.o.d's Holy Word and those lessons that I have taken out of G.o.d's blessed Book, the Holy Bible."

He had hardly said it when a sergeant of the guard, named Homes, gave him a great stroke upon the head with a waster, and said, "Is that the keeping of thy promise, thou heretic?"

The venerable head, now stained with blood, drooped, and for a moment the vitality and vigour seemed to go from the Rector. He saw that it was utterly useless, that there was no hope of him being allowed to address his folk, and so he knelt down and prayed in silence.

While he was praying a very old woman, in poor rags, that was standing among the people, ran in and knelt by his side, and prayed with him.

Homes caught hold of her and tried to drag her from the Doctor, but she screamed loudly and clung to the Rector's knees.

"Tread her down with horses; tread her down," said Sir John Shelton, his face purple with anger.

But even the knight's men would not do it, and there was such a deep threatening murmur from the crowd that Shelton forbore, and the old woman stayed there and prayed with the Doctor.

At last he rose, blessing her, and, dressed only in his s.h.i.+rt, big, burly, and very dignified, he went to the stake and kissed it, and set himself into a pitch barrel, which they had put for him to stand in.

He stood there so, with his back upright against the stake, with his hands folded together, and his eyes towards heaven, praying continually.

Four men set up the f.a.ggots and piled them round him, and one brought a torch to make the fire.

As the furze lit and began to crackle at the bottom of the pile, the man Homes, either really mad with religious hatred, or, as is more probable, a brute, only zealous to ingratiate himself with his commander, picked up a billet of wood and cast it most cruelly at the Doctor. It lit upon his head and broke his face, so that the blood ran down it.

Then said Dr. Taylor, "O friend, I have harm enough; what needed that?"

Then, with Sir John Shelton standing close by, and the people round shuddering with horror, the Rector began to say the Psalm _Miserere_ in English.

Sir John shot out his great red hand and struck the martyr upon the lips with his open palm.

"Ye knave," he said, "speak Latin; I will make thee."

At that, John Commendone, scarcely knowing what he did, leapt from his horse and caught Shelton by the shoulder. With all the strength of his young athletic frame he sent him spinning away from the stake. Sir John staggered, recovered himself, and with his face blazing with anger, rushed at the young man.

At that the King suddenly wheeled his horse, and interposed between them.

"Keep you away, Sir John," he said in Spanish, "that is enough."

The knight did not understand the King's words, but the tone and the accent were significant. With a glare of fury at Johnnie, he slunk aside to his men.

The calm voice of the Rector went on reciting the words of the Psalm.

When it was finished he said the Gloria, and as the smoke rolled up around him, and red tongues of flame began to be brightly visible in the sunlight, he held up both his hands, and said, "Merciful Father of heaven, for Jesus Christ my Saviour's sake, receive my soul into Thy hands."

So stood he still without either crying or moving, with his hands folded together, until suddenly one of the men-at-arms caught up a halbert and struck him on the head so that the brains fell out, and the corpse sank into the fire.

"Thus," says the chronicler, "the man of G.o.d gave his blessed soul into the hands of his merciful Father, and his most dear and certain Saviour Jesus Christ, Whom he most entirely loved, faithfully and earnestly preached, obediently followed in living, and constantly glorified in death."

CHAPTER III

THE MEETING WITH JOHN HULL AT CHELMSFORD

John Commendone, Sir John Shelton, and the King of Spain walked up a flight of broad stone steps, which led to the wide-open door of Mr.

Peter Lacel's house on the far side of Aldham Common.

It was now about ten o'clock in the morning, or a little after.

As soon as the body of the martyr had fallen into the flames, Sir John had wheeled round upon his horse, and, attended by his men, had trotted away, breaking through the crowd, who had rushed to the smouldering pyre and were pressing round it. They had gone some three hundred yards on to the Common at a quick pace.

"I don't like this at all, Sire," Sir John had muttered to the King.

"The people are very turbulent. It will be as well, I think, that we go to the 'Crown.' It is that large house on the other side of the Common.

There we shall find entertainment and refreshment, for I am told it is a good inn by a letter from the Sheriff, Mr. Peter Lacel--whom I had looked to see here as was duly arranged."