CHAPTER TEN.
GLORIFYING THE LORD IN THE FIRES.
"Ah, little is all loss, And brief the space 'twixt shore and shore, If Thou, Lord Jesus, on us lay, Through the dark waters of our way, The burden which Christopheros bore-- To carry Thee across."
Miss Muloch.
As Lord Marnell sat with Margery in her cell in the evening of the 1stof March, she begged him to grant her a favour. Her contrite husbandbade her ask what she would. Margery replied that she greatly wished towrite a last letter to her mother. Writing-materials were carefullykept from her. Could Lord Marnell supply her with the means of doingso? He said he would attempt it.
When Alice returned on the following day from Marnell Place, whither shehad been to procure a change of linen for her mistress, she brought withher also a loaf of bread. The jailer demurred at this, but Alice urgedthat Lady Marnell did not like the bread made by the prison baker, andsurely the jailer would not grudge her a loaf from home, for the fewdays she had to live. The jailer shook his head, but let it pass. WhenAlice was safe in the cell, she broke the loaf, and produced from it,cunningly imbedded in the soft crumb, several sheets of paper foldedsurprisingly small, a pen, and a little inkhorn. Margery's eyesglistened when she saw these, and she wrote her letter secretly duringthe night. But how to get it out of the prison with safety? Alice wasable to provide for this also. The letter was sewn in one of thepillows, which would be carried back to Marnell Place after theexecution.
The last day of Lady Marnell's life sped away as other less eventfuldays do, and the evening of the 5th of March arrived. Alice, havingjust returned from her usual journey to the house, was disposing of thearticles which she had brought with her, when the jailer's key grated inthe lock, and the door was opened. Lady Marnell looked up, expecting tosee her husband, though it was rather before his usual time for visitingher; but on looking up, she saw Abbot Bilson.
This feline ecclesiastic came forward with bent head and joined hands,vouchsafing no reply to Margery's salutation of "Good even, father," norto Alice's humble request for his blessing. He sat down on a chair, andfor some minutes stared at Margery in silence--conduct so strange thatat length she said, "Wherefore come you, father?"
"To look at thee, child of the devil!" was the civil answer.
Alice, who had just requested the blessing of the _priest_, was moreangry than she could bear with the _man_. She was just on the point ofsaying something sharp, when Lord Marnell's voice behind the Abbotinterposed with--
"If thou wouldst see a child of the devil, I trow thou hast little needto look further than thy mirror!"
The Abbot rose calmly, and let Lord Marnell enter.
"It becometh not poor and humble monks, servitors of God, to lendthemselves unto the vanity of mirrors," said he, pulling out a largerosary, and beginning to tell his beads devoutly.
"`Servitors of God!'" cried Lord Marnell, too angry to be prudent."Dost call thyself a servitor of God? If God hath no better servitorsthan thou, I ween He is evil served!"
The Abbot cast a glance from the corner of his eye at Lord Marnell, butmade no answer, save to tell his beads more devoutly than ever.
"Hast no other place to tell thy beads in?" asked that nobleman.
The Abbot rose without a word, and, pausing at the door, stretched hishand over the assembled trio, and muttered some words to himself.
"Away with thee, Lucifer, and thy maledictions!" exclaimed Lord Marnell."There be here who are nearer to the angels than ever thou shalt be!"
Suddenly the Abbot was gone. Nobody had seen or heard him depart--heseemed to melt into the night, in some strange, mysterious way.
"He is gone, and Satan his master go with him!" said Lord Marnell. "Ho,jailer! lock the door, I pray, and leave us three alone together."
The jailer obeyed; and Lord Marnell sat down by the side of Margery'sbed, and bade Alice lie down on her own pallet, and sleep if she could.He gave the same counsel to Margery; but the latter smiled, and said shewould never sleep again in this world.
"Now, Madge!" said her husband, "hast aught on thy mind, good wife, thatthou wouldst say ere morn? Aught that I can do for thee? Trust me, Iwill do the same right gladly."
Margery thanked him fervently; there was a heartiness in his tone whichwas not often audible.
"There be a few matters, mine own good Lord, which under thy goodpleasure I would willingly have done. I would that all my servantsmight have a year's pay; and for Alice, poor lass! who hath tended me sowell and truly, I pray that a small matter of money may be given her bythe year: moreover, I would like, if she will--for I would not lay herunder bond--that she should keep with Geoffrey while she liveth, or atleast until he be a man. And, good husband, I would that thou wouldstteach my poor child to remember me, his mother, but above all, toremember the Lord for whom I die, and who, having loved me in the world,loveth me unto the end. [John xiii. 1] Tell him to count nought toogood for Christ. I trust Christ hath set His heart upon him--I haveprayed for him too much else--and He promised me that whatever thing Ishould ask the Father in His name He would do that thing." [John xvi.16].
"Hast thou prayed ever for me, good wife?" asked Lord Marnell.
"Many times, my good Lord, and I will do so till I die."
"The Church teacheth that dying stoppeth not praying," said he.
"I wis well that the Church so teacheth; but I saw it not in the book;however, if I find it to be so, I will pray God for thee there also."
"Thou sayest well, Madge; but I trow thou art more angel presently thanshall I be ever. I tell thee, Madge--for mayhap it will comfort thee toknow it--thy dealings and sayings of late have caused me to think moreon these things than ever did I afore. It seemeth but a small matter tothee, to go through the fire to the glory. I marvel an' it could be sounto me."
"Say not `to the glory,' good husband, but to Christ. I would not havethe glory and lack Christ. And for thee, I do rejoice and bless Godheartily, if He will make my poor doings of any good service unto thewelfare of thy soul. And believe me, that if thou art called unto myfiery ordeal, Christ will give thee grace and strength equal unto thyneed. It is not much for them who love Christ, if they see Him standbeyond a little fire, to pluck up heart and go through the fire to Him.O good husband, take these as my dying words, and teach them to thechild for the same, `Christ without everything is an hundredfold betterthan everything without Christ!'" Those last words were ringing in LordMarnell's ears when, about eight o'clock in the morning, he stood on thesteps of Marnell Place, looking towards the Tower, and fancying themournful preparations which were going on there. Margery had thought itbest that she should be alone for her fiery trial. As Lord Marnellstood there, lost in thought, he suddenly heard his own name spoken. Heturned round, and saw two men before him, in travellers' attire. One ofthem was an old man, with venerable white head and beard; the other wasmuch younger, and Lord Marnell recognised him at once.
"Master Pynson! I pray you what brings you here? Is the boy well?"
"He is well," answered Richard, in a low tone, "and Dame Lovelllikewise. We came hither on matters pertaining to my friend who herestandeth, and a terrible bruit hath reached us that the Lady Marnellwill suffer this morrow."
"It is true," said Lord Marnell, sorrowfully.
"Can no help be found?" cried Richard, in an agony. "I would put mylife for hers--yea, an hundred times twice told!"
"And I likewise," said her husband. "No--there is no help. The Kingwill hear of no remittance."
"When is it?"
"At nine o' the clock. You will come into the house and eat?"
Richard declined. He had already secured a chamber at the "Blue Boar,"and would not trouble his Lordship.
"Come, Master Carew," said he to his companion, "let us be on our way."
"Go ye for to see her?" inquired Lord Marnell.
"I will not lose sight of her," answered Richard, "until she be in theParadise of God!"
Long before nine o'clock on the morning of that 6th of March, a largecrowd was already gathered on Tower Hill. Some came there from afeeling of revenge--glad to see a Lollard burned. Among these wasArchbishop Arundel. Some, from a feeling of deep pity for the pooryoung girl who was to be almost the proto-martyr of the new faith.Among these were Pynson and Carew. The chief part of the concourse,however, shared neither of these feelings to any great degree, but camesimply to see a sight, just as they would have gone to see a royalprocession, or any other pageant.
As nine o'clock struck on the great bell of the Tower, the martyrappeared, led forth between the sheriff and Abbot Bilson. She wasclothed in one long white garment, falling from her throat to her feet;and, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, her head, arms, andfeet were bare. No fastening confined her golden hair, which streamedfreely over her shoulders and fell around her. She walked slowly, butquite calmly. Arrived at the place of execution, the sheriff urged herto confess.
"I will confess," said Margery, "to Him who can alone absolve me." Andlifting up her eyes, she said, "O Lord God, who art above all things,and hast given Thy Son to die for us sely and sinful men, I confess toThee that I am a vile sinner, utterly unworthy of Thy grace and mercy.That day by day, for twenty-three years, have I done what I ought not,and said what I ought not, and thought what I ought not. That all mylife also have I left undone things the which I ought for to have done.Wherefore, O Father, let it please Thee of Thy goodness to forgive me,and to look not on me, but on Thy Son Christ, in whose rightwise-ness Iam rightwise, and who hath loved me as Thou hast loved also Him. O LordGod, turn not away the face of Thy servant, whose heart Thou hast movedto pray thus unto Thee!"
The Abbot and the sheriff were extremely annoyed, but they did not dareto silence her, for the multitude hung breathlessly on her words.
"There's none so much harm in _that_, any way!" said a woman who stoodnear Richard Pynson.
"Wilt thou confess, sinful heretic?" asked the Abbot.
"To God I will and have done," answered Margery; "to man I will not."
There was a short pause, while the sheriff's men, under his direction,heaped the wood in the position most favourable for burning quickly.Then the sheriff read the indictment in a loud voice. It was a longdocument, and took upwards of twenty minutes to read. After this, theypassed a chain round Margery's body, and fastened her to the stake. Thesheriff then, with a lighted torch, advanced to set the wood on fire.
"Will ye allow me that I may speak unto the people?" asked Margery ofthe Abbot.
"No, miserable reprobate!" said he, "thou hast spoken too much already!"
"I pray Christ forgive you all that you have done unto me!" was themartyr's answer.
The sheriff now applied the torch. Meanwhile Margery stood on the pileof wood, with her hands clasped on her bosom, and her eyes lifted up toheaven. What means it? Does she feel no pain? How is it that, as theflames spring up and roar around her, there is no tremor of the claspedhands, no change in the rapturous expression of the white upturned face?And from the very midst of those flames comes a voice, the silver voiceof Margery Lovell, as clear and melodious as if she stood quietly in thehall at Lovell Tower--
"_Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to take virtue, and Godhead, andwisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory_--"
But the voice fails there, and the "blessing" is spoken to the angels ofGod.
And from the outskirts of the crowd comes another voice which is verylike the voice of Richard Pynson--
"_I am agen risyng and lyf; he that beleeueth in me, yhe though he bedeed, he schal lyue; and ech that lyueth and bileueth into me, schal notdye withouten eende_." [John xi. 25].
"The noble army of martyrs praise Thee," softly adds old Carew.
Thus did Margery Marnell glorify the Lord in the fires.