Read Ebook: In the Days of Queen Mary by Crake E E Edward Ebenezer Stacey W S Walter S Illustrator

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Ebook has 1845 lines and 63215 words, and 37 pages

"Oh, the times are dark, deadly, perilous, and I am glad to escape from London and breathe the pure air of Chiddingly for a brief space."

"And if Mary become Queen, what of our Reformed Church, which is dear to us both?" inquired William anxiously.

"Ah! God knows--and God only," answered Sir John. "The Lady Mary is a bigot, and that we all know.

"Yet I will tell you a State secret: she has sent a messenger to the Lord Mayor, declaring that should she be declared Queen, no Englishman shall suffer for his faith."

"Will she keep her word?" asked William.

William was deeply moved, and he sighed audibly.

"It bodes great trouble for England," he said in a troubled voice. "It may be that the fires of Smithfield will be rekindled as in the worst days of King Henry: yet I believe that the Reformation has taken a deep hold upon the country; the Church may bend before a fierce storm of persecution, but she will not be broken--she will rise again! I, for one, would rather die than bow my knees to Baal, as represented to me by the Papacy; and, thank God, there are thousands of men of like mind with me in Sussex!"

As William pronounced these words in tones that quivered with emotion, his brother caught him by the hand, and shaking it warmly, he cried--

"I know your stedfastness, brother, and I agree with you with all my heart and soul--yet I pray that God may spare us the trial of our faith! But hark! I hear an approaching horseman; I expect it is my man Roger, who is bringing us the latest news from town."

A few minutes later the groom appeared on the lawn, bearing letters in his hand.

Sir John took them from him; then, turning to his brother, he said--

"Let us go indoors; these letters are from my secretary, and we will read them at once; they must be of importance, or they would not have followed me so soon."

Entering the house the gentlemen made their way to the library--a comfortable room, well lighted with wax candles, and furnished with numerous settees and easy-chairs.

Sir John sat down and eagerly opened his despatches.

"It is Tremayne who writes," he said. "I will read his letter to you; it is as follows--

"'HONOURED SIR,

"'The Council met to-day, and the deed of which you wot was signed and sealed--all the members consenting thereto. The Archbishop hesitated to the last, but His Grace of Northumberland would not be withstood--and so all signed. I hear that the King is sinking fast. From your chambers in Gray's Inn, June 21, 1553. J. W. TREMAYNE'"

The brothers looked at each other with pallid faces.

"So the 'letters patent' are issued," said Sir John, "and the irrevocable step is taken! 'Domine, dirige nos'! It is the beginning of strife of which no man can see the issue. Northumberland relies on aid from France; the Lady Mary places her hope on the Emperor. I bethink me of our blessed Lord's words: 'These things are the beginning of sorrows! Then shall be great tribulation such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no nor ever shall be.' And alas! for the poor young King, he hath none to comfort him; he is tasting of that unutterable loneliness that surrounds a throne! I think the end of his troubles is nigh at hand--and then the great strife will begin!

"But the hour is growing late, William," said Sir John, "and I hear Susan's pretty voice below; she is singing one of those songs I love so well: let us join the young people, I have seen little of them to- night."

A fortnight later, on July 6th, King Edward died at Greenwich in the sixteenth year of his age and the seventh of his reign.

Sir John had tarried at Chiddingly until the end came; then he hastened up to London, where pressing duties called him.

With him went the two boys--to begin their legal studies under the auspices of their uncle at Gray's Inn, for it was his wish that they should both enter the learned profession of the law.

THE APPARITOR

It was the year of grace 1556, the third year of the reign of Queen Mary.

The forebodings of evil with which her reign had been ushered in were bitterly fulfilled.

The headsman's axe had oft-times been in use on Tower Hill: Northumberland had gone to his doom with no man to pity him; his son Lord Guildford Dudley had followed him to the block, perhaps equally unlamented.

But men were moved to deeper pity and compassion when the young, innocent, and hapless Lady Jane suffered for her kinsmen's crimes!

The Reformation had found its "witnesses unto death" in the persons of Cranmer, Ridley and Latimer, and the flames of Smithfield aroused the horror of the people; the great "Marian Persecution" had begun, and already over a hundred victims had been offered up.

Mary had married her Spanish husband, and England had witnessed the feeble and ineffectual rebellion of Sir Thomas Wyatt--a protest against the marriage which did not commend itself to the mass of the people.

Amid all these scenes of turmoil and confusion, of terror and distress, the family of the Jefferays at Chiddingly were left unmolested and undisturbed.

In many a quiet country village the Services of the Church, as they had been appointed at the Reformation, were duly performed; the Prayer Book was not superseded by the Missal, and the parish priest was not dispossessed. Their obscurity sheltered them--as yet.

The Vicar of Chiddingly was William Tittleton, who had been appointed to the benefice in the reign of Henry the Eighth. He had been at Magdalen College, Oxford, with Sir John Jefferay, where the two young men had formed a strong and enduring friendship.

Thus it happened that in due time Sir John presented his friend--now in Holy Orders--to the benefice of Chiddingly, and the Vicar had returned the good service by acting as tutor to the young people of Chiddingly Place. He was a very able scholar, and between him and his pupils a strong affection subsisted.

But a change was at hand for the parish of Chiddingly--its peace and quietude came suddenly to an end. The "Marian Persecution" had begun, and the lurid flames of Smithfield had aroused horror and indignation in many English hearts--especially in Sussex, where the Reformation had taken deep root.

At this critical moment the Vicar of Chiddingly preached a sermon at Mayfield which brought him under the censure of the Government, and an apparitor was sent to make inquiry into the ecclesiastical position of the little parish.

The ill-omened visitor attended the simple services of the parish church, and took copious notes of the Vicar's sermon, to the dismay of the rustics of Chiddingly.

The fires of Lewes in the month of June this year had excited their fierce animosity, and the appearance of the apparitor in their midst gave birth to a sudden outburst of wrath.

It was at the close of a lovely day in July--a Sunday--when their anger found vent.

They had marked the presence of a stranger at the morning service--a stern-looking, middle-aged man, garbed in black, and as they came out of church the men gathered in groups to discuss the object and purpose of his visit.

The man was sojourning at the village inn , and thither he was allowed for the present to retire unmolested, although a strict watch was at once instituted upon his doings.

In the afternoon the visitor again attended service, and an ominous murmur among the rustics became distinctly audible as they observed that he was again busily taking notes of all that he saw and heard.

The service over, the man left the church with the intention of proceeding to the inn, where his horse was stabled; but he was not to be allowed to leave the village thus quietly.

Hard by the church was the horse-pond--at this period of the year about half full of dark slimy water; in the centre of the pond the depth would be about four or five feet.

Suddenly the visitor found himself surrounded by a band of determined, angry-looking Sussex men.

"What does this mean?" he asked sternly. "Do you men know that I am about the Queen's business?"

"Aye, we thought as much, and that's about the reason of it all," answered the spokesman of the rustics. "Gie us them papers which we saw thee so busy with in the church instead of minding thy prayers! Gie us them--we see them sticking out of thy pocket, and we means to have them-- or it will be the worse for thee!"

"Fools!" snarled the man, without quailing before the coming storm, "fools! do you not know that it is a hanging matter to lay a hand on me?"

"It's very likely," said the bold rustic; "but it strikes me some one else will be hung, or drownded, before any of us are sent to join the Lewes martyrs."

The angry group was now just beside the horse-pond--and each moment it grew more excited and threatening. Suddenly a voice cried--

"He's fond of fire, let's see how water suits him!"

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