Come Rack! Come Rope!

  CHAPTER VIII

  I

  "Water," said a sharp voice, pricking through the enormous thickness ofthe bloodshot dark that had come down on him. There followed a sound offloods; then a sense of sudden coolness, and he opened his eyes oncemore, and became aware of unbearable pain in arms and feet. Again thewhirling dark, striped with blood colour, fell on him like a blanket;again the sound of waters falling and the sense of coolness, and againhe opened his eyes.

  * * * * *

  For a minute or two it was all that he could do to hold himself inconsciousness. It appeared to him a necessity to do so. He could see asmoke-stained roof of beams and rafters, and on these he fixed his eyes,thinking that he could hold himself so, as by thin, wiry threads ofsight, from falling again into the pit where all was black orblood-colour. The pain was appalling, but he thought he had gripped itat last, and could hold it so, like a wrestler.

  As the pain began to resolve itself into throbs and stabs, from thecontinuous strain in which at first it had shown itself--a strain thatwas like a shrill horn blowing, or a blaze of bluish light--he began tosee more, and to understand a little. There were four or five faceslooking down on him: one was the face of a man he had seen somewhere inan inn ... it was at Fotheringay; it was my lord Shrewsbury's man.Another was a lean face; a black hat came and went behind it; the lipswere drawn in a sort of smile, so that he could see the teeth.... Thenhe perceived next that he himself was lying in a kind of shallow troughof wood upon the floor. He could see his bare feet raised a little andtied with cords.

  Then, one by one, these sights fitted themselves into one another andmade sense. He remembered that he was in Derby gaol--not in his owncell; that the lean face was of a man called Topcliffe; that a physicianwas there as well as the others; that they had been questioning him onvarious points, and that some of these points he had answered, whileothers he had not, and must not. Some of them concerned her Grace of theScots.... These he had answered. Then, again, association came back....

  "As Thy arms, O Christ ..." he whispered.

  "Now then," came the sharp voice in his ear, so close and harsh as todistress him. "These questions again.... Were there any other placesbesides at Padley and Booth's Edge, in the parish of Hathersage, whereyou said mass?"

  "... O Christ, were extended on the Cross--" began the tortured mandreamily. "Ah-h-h!"....

  It was a scream, whispered rather than shrieked, that was torn from himby the sharpness of the agony. His body had lifted from the floorwithout will of his own, twisting a little; and what seemed as stringsof fiery pain had shot upwards from his feet and downwards from hiswrists as the roller was suddenly jerked again. He hung there perhapsten or fifteen seconds, conscious only of the blinding pain--questions,questioners, roof and faces all gone and drowned again in a whirlingtumult of darkness and red streaks. The sweat poured again suddenly fromhis whole body.... Then again he sank relaxed upon the floor, and thepulses beat in his head, and he thought that Marjorie and her mother andhis own father were all looking at him....

  He heard presently the same voice talking:

  "--and answer the questions that are put to you.... Now then, we willbegin the others, if it please you better.... In what month was it thatyou first became privy to the plot against her Grace?"

  "Wait!" whispered the priest. "Wait, and I will answer that." (Heunderstood that there was a trap here. The question had been frameddifferently last time. But his mind was all a-whirl; and he feared hemight answer wrongly if he could not collect himself. He still wonderedwhy so many friends of his were in the room--even Father Campion....)

  He drew a breath again presently, and tried to speak; but his voicebroke like a shattered trumpet, and he could not command it.... He mustwhisper.

  "It was in August, I think.... I think it was August, two years ago."...

  "August ... you mean May or April."

  "No; it was August.... At least, all that I know of the plot was when... when--" (His thoughts became confused again; it was like strings ofwool, he thought, twisted violently together; a strand snapped now andagain. He made a violent effort and caught an end as it was slippingaway.) "It was in August, I think; the day that Mr. Babington fled, thathe wrote to me; and sent me--" (He paused: he became aware that here,too, lurked a trap if he were to say he had seen Mary; he would surelybe asked what he had seen her for, and his priesthood might be so provedagainst him.... He could not remember whether that had been proved; andso ... would Father Campion advise him perhaps whether....)

  The voice jarred again; and startled him into a flash of coherence. Hethought he saw a way out.

  "Well?" snapped the voice. "Sent you?... Sent you whither?"

  "Sent me to Chartley; where I saw her Grace ... her Grace of the Scots;and ... 'As Thy arms, O Christ....'"

  "Now then; now then--! So your saw her Grace? And what was that for?"

  "I saw her Grace ... and ... and told her what Mr. Babington had toldme."

  "What was that, then?"

  "That ... that he was her servant till death; and ... and a thousand ifhe had them. And so, 'As Thy arms, O--'"

  "Water," barked the voice.

  Again came the rush as of cataracts; and a sensation of drowning. Therefollowed an instant's glow of life; and then the intolerable pain cameback; and the heavy, red-streaked darkness....

  II

  He found himself, after some period, lying more easily. He could notmove hand or foot. His body only appeared to live. From his shoulders tohis thighs he was alive; the rest was nothing. But he opened his eyesand saw that his arms were laid by his side; and that he was no longerin the wooden trough. He wondered at his hands; he wondered even if theywere his ... they were of an unusual colour and bigness; and there wassomething like a tight-fitting bracelet round each wrist. Then heperceived that he was shirtless and hoseless; and that the braceletswere not bracelets, but rings of swollen flesh. But there was no longerany pain or even sensation in them; and he was aware that his mouthglowed as if he had drunk ardent spirits.

  He was considering all this, slowly, like a child contemplating a newtoy. Then there came something between him and the light; he saw acouple of faces eyeing him. Then the voice began again, at firstconfused and buzzing, then articulate; and he remembered.

  "Now, then," said the voice, "you have had but a taste of it...." ("Ataste of it; a taste of it." The phrase repeated itself like the catchof a song.... When he regained his attention, the sentence had movedon.)

  "... these questions. I will put them to you again from the beginning.You will give your answer to each. And if my lord is not satisfied, wemust try again."

  "My lord!" thought the priest. He rolled his eyes round a littlefurther. (He dared not move his head; the sinews of his throat burnedlike red-hot steel cords at the thought of it.) And he saw a littletable floating somewhere in the dark; a candle burned on it; and amelancholy face with dreamy eyes was brightly illuminated.... That wasmy lord Shrewsbury, he considered....

  "... in what month that you first became privy to the plot against herGrace?"

  (Sense was coming back to him again now. He remembered what he had saidjust now.)

  "It was in August," he whispered, "in August, I think; two years ago.Mr. Babington wrote to me of it."

  "And you went to the Queen of the Scots, you say?"

  "Yes."

  "And what did you there?"

  "I gave the message."

  "What was that?"

  "... That Mr. Babington was her servant always; that he regrettednothing, save that he had failed. He begged her to pray for his soul,and for all that had been with him in the enterprise."

  (It appeared to him that he was astonishingly voluble, all at once. Hereflected that he must be careful.)

  "And what did she say to that?"

  "She declared herself guiltless of the plot ... that she knew nothing ofit; and that--"

  "Now then; now then. You expect my lord to believe that?"
/>
  "I do not know.... But it was what was said."

  "And you profess that you knew nothing of the plot till then?"

  "I knew nothing of it till then," whispered the priest steadily. "But--"

  (A face suddenly blotted out more of the light.)

  "Yes?"

  "Anthony--I mean Mr. Babington--had spoken to me a great whilebefore--in ... in some village inn.... I forget where. It was when I wasa lad. He asked whether I would join in some enterprise. He did not saywhat it was.... But I thought it to be against the Queen of England....And I would not."...

  He closed his eyes again. There had begun a slow heat of pain in anklesand wrists, not wholly unbearable, and a warmth began to spread in hisbody. A great shudder or two shook him. The voice said something hecould not hear. Then a metal rim was pressed to his mouth; and a streamof something at once icy and fiery ran into his mouth and out at thecorners. He swallowed once or twice; and his senses came back.

  "You do not expect us to believe all that!" came the voice.

  "It is the truth, for all that," murmured the priest.

  The next question came sudden as a shot fired:

  "You were at Fotheringay?"

  "Yes."

  "In what house?"

  "I was in the inn--the 'New Inn,' I think it is.

  "And you spoke with her Grace again?"

  "No; I could not get at her. But--"

  "Well?"

  "I was in the court of the castle when her Grace was executed."

  There was a murmur of voices. He thought that someone had moved over tothe table where my lord sat; but he could not move his eyes again, thelabour was too great.

  "Who was with you in the inn--as your friend, I mean?"

  "A ... a young man was with me. His name was Merton. He is in France, Ithink."

  "And he knew you to be a priest?" came the voice without an instant'shesitation.

  "Why--" Then he stopped short, just in time.

  "Well?"

  "How should he think that?" asked Robin.

  There was a laugh somewhere. Then the voice went on, almostgood-humouredly.

  "Mr. Alban; what is the use of this fencing? You were taken in ahiding-hole with the very vestments at your feet. We _know_ you to be apriest. We are not seeking to entrap you in that, for there is no need.But there are other matters altogether which we must have from you. Youhave been made priest beyond the seas, in Rheims--"

  "I swear to you that I was not," whispered Robin instantly and eagerly,thinking he saw a loophole.

  "Well, then, at Chalons, or Douay: it matters not where. That is not ouraffair to-day. All that will be dealt with before my lords at theAssizes. But what we must have from you now is your answer to some otherquestions."

  "Assuming me to be a priest?"

  "Mr. Alban, I will talk no more on that point. I tell you we know it.But we must have answers on other points. I will come back to Mertonpresently. These are the questions. I will read them through to you.Then we will deal with them one by one."

  There was the rustle of a paper. An extraordinary desire for sleep camedown on the priest; it was only by twitching his head a little, andcausing himself acute shoots of pain in his neck that he could keephimself awake. He knew that he must not let his attention wander again.He remembered clearly how that Father Campion was dead, and thatMarjorie could not have been here just now.... He must take great carenot to become so much confused again.

  * * * * *

  "The first question," read the voice slowly, "is, Whether you have saidmass in other places beside Padley and the manor at Booth's Edge. Weknow that you must have done so; but we must have the names of theplaces, and of the parties present, so far as you can remember them.

  "The second question is, the names of all those other priests with whomyou have spoken in England, since you came from Rheims; and the names ofall other students, not yet priests, or scarcely, whom you knew atRheims, and who are for England.

  "The third question is, the names of all those whom you know to befriends of Mr. John FitzHerbert, Mr. Bassett and Mr. Fenton--not beingpriests; but Papists.

  "These three questions will do as a beginning. When you have answeredthese, there is a number more. Now, sir."

  The last two words were rapped out sharply. Robin opened his eyes.

  "As to the first two questions," he whispered. "These assume that I ama priest myself. Yet that is what you, have to prove against me. Thethird question concerns ... concerns my loyalty to my friends. But Iwill tell you--"

  "Yes?" (The voice was sharp and eager.)

  "I will tell you the names of two friends of each of those gentlemen youhave named."

  A pen suddenly scratched on paper. He could not see who held it.

  "Yes?" said the voice again.

  "Well, sir. The names of two of the friends of Mr. FitzHerbert are, Mr.Bassett and Mr. Fenton. The names--"

  "Bah!" (The word sounded like the explosion of a gun.)

  "You are playing with us--"

  "The names," murmured the priest slowly, "of two of Mr. Fenton's friendsare Mr. FitzHerbert and--"

  A face, upside-down, thrust itself suddenly almost into his. He couldfeel the hot breath on his forehead.

  "See here, Mr. Alban. You are fooling us. Do you think this is aChristmas game? I tell you it is not yet three o'clock. There are threehours more yet--"

  A smooth, sad voice interrupted. (The reversed face vanished.)

  "You have threatened the prisoner," it said, "but you have not yet toldhim the alternative."

  "No, my lord.... Yes, my lord. Listen, Mr. Alban. My lord here says thatif you will answer these questions he will use his influence on yourbehalf. Your life is forfeited, as you know very well. There is not adog's chance for you. Yet, if you will but answer these threequestions--and no more--(No more, my lord?)--Yes; these three questionsand no more, my lord will use his influence for you. He can promisenothing, he says, but that; but my lord's influence--well, we need sayno more on that point. If you refuse to answer, on the other hand, thereare yet three hours more to-day; there is all to-morrow, and the nextday. And, after that, your case will be before my lords at the Assizes.You have had but a taste of what we can do.... And then, sir, my lorddoes not wish to be harsh...."

  There was a pause.

  Robin was counting up the hours. It was three o'clock now. Then he hadbeen on the rack, with intervals, since nine o'clock. That was sixhours. There was but half that again for to-day. Then would come thenight. He need not consider further than that.... But he must guard histongue. It might speak, in spite---

  "Well, Mr. Alban?"

  He opened his eyes.

  "Well, sir?"

  "Which is it to be?"

  The priest smiled and closed his eyes again. If he could but fix hisattention on the mere pain, he thought, and refuse utterly to considerthe way of escape, he might be able to keep his unruly tongue in check.

  "You will not, then?"

  "No."

  * * * * *

  The appalling pain ran through him again like fiery snakes of iron--fromwrist to shoulders, from ankles to thighs, as the hands seized him andlifted him....

  There was a moment or two of relief as he sank down once more into thetrough of torture. He could feel that his feet were being handled, butit appeared as if nothing touched his flesh. He gave a great sighingmoan as his arms were drawn back over his head; and the sweat pouredagain from all over his body.

  Then, as the cords tightened:

  "As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended ..." he whispered.