CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
WHAT BEFELL SOME OF THEM.
For half-an-hour, safely hidden behind a hedge, Robert Purcas watchedthe door of Johnson's cottage, until at last he saw the priest come out,and go up the lane for a short distance. Then he stopped, looked round,and gave a low, peculiar whistle. A man jumped down from the bank onthe other side of the lane, with whom the priest held a long, low-tonedconversation. Robert knew he could not safely move before they were outof the way. At length they parted, and he just caught the priest'sfinal words.
"Good: we shall have them all afore the even."
"That you shall not, if God speed me!" said Robert to himself.
The priest went up the lane towards Bentley, and the man who had beentalking with him took the opposite way to Thorpe. When his footstepshad died away, Robert crept out from the shelter of the hedge, and madehis way in the dark to Johnson's cottage. A rap on the door broughtCissy.
"Who is it, please?" she said, "because I can't see."
"It is Robin Purcas, Cis. I want a word with thy father."
"Come in, Robin!" called Johnson's voice from within. "I could see thouwert bursting with some news not to be spoken in the presence but justgone. What ails thee, man?"
"Ay, I was, and I promised to tell you. Jack, thou must win away eredaylight, or the Bailiff shall be on thee. Set these little ones insafe guard, and hie thee away with all the speed thou mayest."
"Is it come so near?" said Johnson, gravely.
"Father, you're not going nowhere without me!" said Cissy, creeping upto him, and slipping her hand in his. "You can leave Will and Baby withNeighbour Ursula: but I'll not be left unless you bid me--and you won'tFather? You can never do without me? I must go where you go."
"She's safe, I reckon," said Robert, answering Johnson's look: "they'dnever do no mischief to much as she. Only maybe she'd be more out ofreach if I took her with me. They'll seek to breed her up in a convent,most like."
Cissy felt her father's hand tighten upon hers.
"I'm not going with you, nor nobody!" said she. "I'll go with Father.Nobody'll get me nowhere else, without they carry me."
Johnson seemed to wake up, as if till then he had scarcely understoodwhat it all meant.
"God bless thee for the warning, lad!" he said. "Now hie thee quick,and get out of reach thyself Cis, go up and fetch a warm wrap for Baby,and all her clothes; I'll take her next door. I reckon Will must tarrythere too. It'd be better for thee, Cis: but I'll not compel thee, ifthy little heart's set on going with me. Thoul't have to rough it,little maid."
"I'll not stop nowhere!" was Cissy's determination.
Robert bade them good-bye with a smile, closed the door, and set offdown the lane as fast as the darkness made it prudent. He did not thinkit wise to go through the village, so he made a _detour_ by some fields,and came into the road again on the other side of Thorpe. He had notgone many yards, when he became aware that a number of lights wereapproaching, accompanied by a noise of voices. Robert turned straightround. If he could get back to the stile which led into the fields, hewould be safer: and if not, still it would be better to be overtakenthan to meet a possible enemy face to face. He would be less likely tobe noticed in the former case than in the latter--at least so hethought.
There must be a good number of people coming behind him, judging fromthe voices. At length they came up with him.
"Pray you, young man, how far be we from Thorpe?"
"You are very nigh, straight on," was Robert's answer.
"Do you belong there?"
"No, I'm nigh a stranger to these parts: I'm from the eastern side ofthe county. I can't tell you much about folks, if that be yourmeaning."
"And what do you here, if you be a stranger?"
"I've a job o' work at Saint Osyth, at this present."
"What manner of work?"
"I'm a fuller by trade."
Robert had already recognised that he was talking to the Bailiff'ssearching party. Every minute that he could keep them was a minute morefor Johnson and the little ones.
"Know you a man named Johnson?"
"What, here?"
"Ay, at Thorpe."
Robert pretended to consider. "Well, let's see--there's Will Johnsonthe miller, and Luke Johnson the weaver, and--eh, there's ever so manyJohnsons! I couldn't say to one or another, without I knew more."
"John Johnson; he's a labouring man."
"Well, there is Johnsons that lives up by the wood, but I'm none so sureof the man's name. I think it's Andrew, but I'll not say, certain. Itmay be John; I couldn't speak, not to be sure."
"Let him be, Gregory; he knows nought," said the Bailiff.
Robert touched his cap, and fell behind. The Bailiff suddenly turnedround.
"What's your own name?"
It was a terrible temptation! If he gave a false name, the strongprobability was that they would pass on, and he would very likely getsafe away. It was Johnson of whom they were thinking, not himself. Butthat would enable them to reach Johnson's cottage a minute sooner, andit would be a cowardly lie. No! Robert Purcas had not so learnedChrist. He gave his name honestly.
"Robert Purcas! If that's not on my list--" said the Bailiff, feelingin his pocket. "Ay, here it is--stay! _William_, Purcas, of Booking,fuller, aged twenty, single; is that you?"
"My name is Robert, not William," said the young man.
"But thou art a fuller? and single? and aged twenty?"
"Ay, all that is so."
"Dost thou believe the bread of the sacred host to be transmuted afterconsecration into the body of Christ, so that no substance of bread isleft there at all?"
"I do not. I cannot, for I see the bread."
"He's a heretic!" cried Simnel. "Robert or William, it is all one.Take the heretic!"
And so Robert Purcas was seized, and carried to the Moot Hall inColchester--a fate from which one word of falsehood would have freedhim, but it would have cost him his Father's smile.
The Moot Hall of Colchester was probably the oldest municipal buildingin England. It was erected soon after the Conquest, and its lowcircular arches and piers ornamented the High Street until 1843, whenthe town Vandals were pleased to destroy it because it impeded thetraffic. Robert was taken into the dungeon, and the great door slammedto behind him. He could not see for a few minutes, coming fresh fromthe light of day: and before he was able to make anything out clearly,an old lady's voice accosted him.
"Robert Purcas, if I err not?" she said. "I am sorry to behold theehere, friend."
"Truly, Mistress, more than I am, that am come hither in Christ'scause."
"Ay? Then thou art well come."
"Methinks it is Mistress Silverside?"
"Thou sayest well. I shall have company now," said the old lady with asmile. "Methought some of my brethren and sisters should be like tohave after."
"I reckon," responded Purcas, "we be sure at the least of our Father'scompany."
The great door just then rolled back, and they heard the gaoler's voiceoutside.
"Gramercy, but this is tidy work!" cried he. "Never had no suchprisoners here afore. I don't know what to do with 'em. There, get youin! you aren't the first there."
There was a moment's pause, and then Mrs Silverside and Robert, whowere looking to see what uncommon sort of prisoners could be at hand,found that their eyes had to come down considerably nearer the floor, asthe gaoler let in, hand in hand, Cissy and Will Johnson, followed bytheir father.