13

The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in a large room with other prisoners. There were about twenty of them here, of both sexes and of varying ages. The King was bitter over the indignity of the situation, but Hendon was moody.  He was bewildered; he had come home, expecting to find everybody wild with joy over his return; and instead had got the cold shoulder and a jail.

Fradually his confused thoughts settled down into some sort of order, and then his mind centred itself upon Edith.  Did she know him—or didn’t she know him?  It was a puzzle, and occupied him a long time; but he eventually decided that she did know him.

Wrapped in prison blankets, Hendon and the King spent a troubled night.  During the next week, the days and nights were all the same; men whose faces Hendon remembered more or less distinctly, came during day, to look at the ‘impostor’ and insult him.

One day, the jailer brought in an old man, and said to him—

“The villain is in this room—look and say if you can tell who that is.”

Hendon looked up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for the first time since he had been in the jail.  He said to himself, “This is Blake Andrews, a servant all his life in my father’s family—a good honest soul.  But none are true now; all are liars.  This man will know me—and will deny me, too, like the rest.”

The old man looked around the room, glanced at each face, and finally said—

“I see none here but the scum of the streets.  Which is he?”

The jailer laughed.

“Here,” he said; “look at this one, and tell me an opinion.”

The old man approached, and looked Hendon over, then shook his head and said—

“This is no Hendon—nor ever was! And if I had to decide, the villain would roast!”

The jailer laughed, and said—

“Give him a piece of your mind, old man—they all do it.”

Then he walked into his ante-room and disappeared.  The old man dropped upon his knees and whispered—

“God be thanked, you’re here, my master!  I thought you were dead these seven years, and here you are, alive!  I knew it was you the moment I saw you; it was so hard to keep a stony face and seem to see none here but the rubbish of the streets. I am old and poor, Sir Miles; but say the word and I will go forth and tell everyone the truth.”

“No,” said Hendon; “don’t.  It would ruin you, and won’t help me.  But I thank you, for you has given me back somewhat of my lost faith.”

The old servant became very valuable to Hendon and the King. He showed up in jail several times a day to ‘abuse the villain’, and always brought some food to help out the prisoners; he also brought the current news.

So, little by little, the story of the family came out.  Arthur had been dead six years.  This loss, with the absence of news from Miles, impaired the father’s health; he believed he was going to die, and he wished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before he passed away; but Edith begged for delay, hoping for Miles’s return; then the letter came which brought the news of Miles’s death; the shock prostrated Sir

Richard; he believed his end was very near, and he and Hugh insisted upon the marriage; Edith begged for a delay and managed to get three months; the marriage then took place by the death-bed of Sir Richard.  It had not proved a happy one.  It was whispered about the country that shortly after the bride found among her husband’s papers several incomplete drafts of the fatal letter, and had accused him of forgery which led to Sir Richard’s death and their marriage. There were tales of cruelty to the Lady Edith and the servants; and since the father’s death Sir Hugh became a pitiless master toward all.

There was a bit of gossip which the King listened to carefully—

“There is rumour that the King is mad.  But it’s death to speak of it, they say.”

His Majesty glared at the old man and said—

“The King is not mad, good man.”

“What does the lad mean?” said Andrews, surprised.  Hendon gave him a sign, and he did not pursue his question, but went on—

“The late King is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two—the 16th of the month—and the new King will be crowned at Westminster the 20th. Sir Hugh will go to the coronation.  He hopes to come back a peer, for he is high in favour with the Lord Protector.”

“What Lord Protector?” asked his Majesty.

“His Grace the Duke of Somerset.”

“What Duke of Somerset?”

“There is but one—Seymour, Earl of Hertford.”

The King asked sharply—

“Since when is he a duke, and Lord Protector?”

“Since the last day of January.”

“And who made him so?”

“Himself and the Great Council—with help of the King.”

His Majesty started violently. “The King!” he cried. “What king, good sir?”

“What king, indeed! His most sacred Majesty King Edward the Sixth—whom God preserve!  And a dear and gracious little boy is he, too; and whether he is mad or no, everyone praises him, for he began his reign with saving the old Duke of Norfolk’s life, and now is he destroying the cruellest of the laws that oppress the people.”

This news struck his Majesty with amazement. He wondered if the ‘little boy’ was the beggar-boy whom he left dressed in his own garments in the palace.  It did not seem possible: surely, his manners and speech would betray him if he pretended to be the Prince of Wales. Could it be that the Court had set up another noble in his place?  No, for his uncle would not allow that.  The more the boy tried to unriddle the mystery the more his head ached.  He needed to get to London.

Hendon could not comfort the King; but a couple of women who were chained near him succeeded. Under their gentle talking he calmed down learned a degree of patience.

He was very grateful, and came to love them dearly.  He asked them why they were in prison, and when they said they were Baptists. He smiled, and asked—

“Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison?  They should not keep you long for such a little thing.”

They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. He said, eagerly—

“You do not speak; tell me—there will be no other punishment?  Please tell me there is no fear of that.”

They tried to change the topic, but now he was scared, and he asked again—

“Will they lash you?  No, no, they would not be so cruel!  Say they would not.  Come, they will not, will they?”

The women could not avoid an answer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion—

“Oh, you’ll break our hearts, you gentle spirit!”

“It is a confession!” the King said. “Then they WILL lash you! But oh, don’t cry, I cannot bear it.   I will come to my own in time to save you from this bitter thing, and I will do it!”

When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone.

“They are saved!” he thought, joyfully.

Just then the jailer came in, and commanded that the prisoners be taken to the jail-yard.  The King was overjoyed—it would be good to see the blue sky and breathe the fresh air once more.

The court was open to the sky.  The prisoners entered it through a massive archway, and were placed, standing, with their backs against the wall. A rope was stretched in front of them, and they were also guarded by their officers.

In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts.  The King saw that those were his good friends.  He said to himself, “So they are not free, as I had thought.  To think that they should know the lash!—in England! It is strange, so strange, that I am helpless to protect them. But for every blow the guards strike, they shall feel a hundred themselves.”

A great gate opened, and a crowd of citizens poured in.  They stood around the two women, and hid them from the King’s view. A clergyman entered and passed through the crowd, and he also was hidden.  The King heard talking, back and forth, as if questions were being asked and answered, but he could not make out what was said.  Next there was some moving and preparation.

Then the crowed parted, and the King saw a horrible thing.  Wood had been piled around the two women, and a man was lighting it!

The women bowed their heads, and covered their faces with their hands; the yellow flames began to climb up, and blue smoke started to stream away on the wind; the clergyman lifted his hands and began a prayer—just then two young girls came running through the great gate, screaming, and threw themselves upon the women at the stake.  The officers took them away, and one broke loose, saying she would die with her mother.  Two or three men held her. Both the girls kept screaming and fighting; but suddenly they were drowned under the sound of heart-piercing shrieks of agony. The King glanced from the girls to the stake, then turned away and leaned his face against the wall, and looked no more.  He said, “What I have seen will never go out from my memory; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it all the nights, till I die.  If I had been blind!”

That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain over night.  The King talked to them and their tales broke his heart.  One of them was a poor woman who had stolen a yard or two of cloth from a weaver—she was to be hanged for it.  Another was a man who had been accused of stealing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he had imagined that he was safe; but no. There was a tradesman’s apprentice who said found a hawk that had escaped from its owner, and he took it home with him, thinking nothing of it; but the court accused him of stealing it, and sentenced him to death.

The King was furious, and wanted Hendon to break out jail and get with him to Westminster, so that he could save these people. “Poor child,” sighed Hendon, “these sad tales have brought his sickness out again.”

Among these prisoners was an old lawyer. Three years past, he had written a letter against the Lord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and had been punished for it by the loss of his ears. He had repeated his offence; and was now sentenced to lose what remained of his ears, pay a fine of 5,000 pounds, be branded on both cheeks, and remain in prison for life.

“These be honourable scars,” he said, and showed the mutilated stubs that used to be his ears.

The King’s eye burned with passion.  He said—

“None believe in me—neither will you.  But no matter—within a month you shall be free; and more, the laws that have dishonoured you, shall be gone.”