FOOTNOTES
[31] The title “Sir” did not in these days necessarily imply knighthood; it was commonly given to Justices of the Peace, scions of noble family, and even to Parish Priests, although we have not used it in that connexion for fear of creating confusion in the mind of the modern reader.
[32] Until late in this reign no edible roots were grown as food in England.
[33] These cruel lines are authentic; the martyrdoms related really occurred on July the sixteenth, 1546, but perhaps the news had not reached Devon, and was not “stale news” there.
CHAPTER IV.
EXETER GAOL.
One of the foulest disgraces resting upon mediæval England, but not upon her alone, was the state of her prisons. In such filth were the prisoners kept, that a peculiar fever, called the “gaol fever,” broke out from time to time amongst them, and swept off the poor wretches by hundreds.
But often this malady, the source of which was neglect and cruelty, avenged itself upon the gaolers, and not upon them only, but upon judges, jury, and officers alike; thus at Oxford the assizes known as the Black Assize, in the reign of Elizabeth, became historical.[34] It was convened for the trial of some Catholic recusants, when the foul miasama spread from the wretched prisoners, and judges, jury, sheriff, and officers alike sickened and died.
Thus at the time of which we are writing, rosemary, rue,[35] and sweet smelling herbs were scattered about the court house at Exeter, where “as worshipful a jury as ever was seen,” was convened for the trial of the Trevannions, “father and son,” for the crime of high treason.
Their condition evoked great sympathy, and the county town, or rather cathedral city, was crowded upon the day of trial by sympathizers with the accused. It took place in the ancient citadel called Rougemont, which for five centuries offered defiance to the English—when held by the early British or Welsh—until the days of Athelstan; and only a century and a-half later, in the hands of the English, it bade a brief defiance to the Norman conqueror.
Tradition, falsely enough, assigned its origin to Julius Cæsar, and derived its name more truly from the red sandstone which forms the substratum of the castle hill; but whoever founded it, it shared the usual fate of our edifices, both secular and ecclesiastical, in being rebuilt by the Normans, who were rarely contented with aught their old English predecessors had done.
Here, during the brief period of Anglo-Saxon domination, many of the royal race of Cerdic held their court, when they visited their western conquests.
Here also the conquering Norman took up his abode, and to secure the castle to his interests, following therein his usual crafty policy, gave it to be held, in feudal tenure, by one of his chief nobles, Baldwin de Biron, who had married his niece, Albreda.
Here was the county gaol, and here the governor occupied the tenantable rooms in the ancient castle, two of which were assigned to the prisoners, in consequence of their position amongst the Devonian aristocracy—few expected aught for them but a triumphant acquittal; but all the time Sir John Redfyrne felt sure of his prey.
They were thus allowed the consolation of each other’s society; their food was supplied from the governor’s own table, but before them lay the blankness of despair, so far as this world was concerned.
For supposing they escaped the heavier accusation of “misprison of treason” hanging over both,—the elder for his voluntary share in the northern insurrection, the younger for his concealment of a secret involving the King’s peace,—there was another weapon to which their foe might have immediate recourse.
This weapon was the Act of Supremacy.
Would they take the oath? If not the cruel fate assigned to traitors lay before them.
Cuthbert’s own theories were not very defined on the point, but he would strive to follow such guides as Richard Whiting and Walter Trevannion.
But what was the object of Sir John Redfyrne in thus precipitating matters? It was simply that he wished to get Cuthbert into his power. He cared less for the elder prisoner, he might die or live, but were it once placed clearly before the youth that he might save his life by betraying the secret he was supposed to possess, there could be, to Sir John’s mind, no doubt that he would give the clue, and all would be well.
Then as it would no longer interfere with weightier interests, he would show his gratitude for such a trifling favour as the preservation of his own life; and should Cuthbert, as was likely in such a case, lack other friends, even provide decently for his future in some subordinate position.
But first of all the danger must become real, or the youth’s obstinacy would never be subdued,—the jury must condemn.
It was the day of trial, and all the approaches to the court were crowded. We will not appear on the scene in person, we have seen a very similar trial at Glastonbury; but we will just read a number of depositions, as they were written down in the county archives, in old books not generally accessible.
Laurence Tooler, known as Father Paul in religion, deposeth that he was one of the brethren at Furness Abbey, and being an apt scribe was employed by the Prior Ambrose as his secretary, copied lists for him of the leaders in the “Pilgrimage of Grace,” their contributions, in money, men, and arms. Sent copies of the same by the hands of a sure messenger to Abbot Whiting, of Glastonbury; also, at later period, consigned sums of money by ship to the Bristol Channel and thence to Glastonbury: supposed it to be for safe keeping on behalf of the dispossessed brethren. Identifieth the elder prisoner as Prior Ambrose. Admitteth he was once chastised by the Prior for breach of his monastic vows.
Jacques Le Fuyard, an English subject, son of an English mother and French father, speaketh both languages fluently: was employed by the English Government under Cromwell, to track the political refugees in Flanders and elsewhere; knew Prior Ambrose of Furness, at Antwerp; that he, the Prior, often corresponded with Reginald Pole, “the King’s chief enemy across the seas;” that he was more than once with the Papal Nuncio, and often closeted with the Spanish Ambassador; understood that he had given up politics; lost sight of him at Brussels, knew him again in Sir Walter Trevannion; and recognized him, recently, when tarrying about the neighbourhood of the manor house at Becky Hall, near Bovey.
Gregory Grigges, deposeth that he was groom to old Sir Arthur Trevannion; is very old now, nearly eighty years; knew the present Sir Walter as a boy, remembers his running away, and becoming a monk, as he heard; the old knight would have nought to say to him afterwards; the elder brother, Sir Roger, died of decline, and the old man longed for his only surviving son, sent abroad and spent much money in enquiries; at length Sir Walter returned. Doth not like Sir Walter so well as his father: hath been put in the stocks by him for having a very little drop too much. That is he present, the prisoner.
Nicholas Grabber deposeth that he was a schoolboy at Glastonbury Abbey, where they got plenty to fill their heads, but little to put into their stomachs; has felt it ever since in a tendency to boils and blains: the meat was so rotten it dropped from your fork as you held it, and the fish stank; hated the Abbot because he was, he thought, an enemy to the King. Watched him narrowly. One day the Abbot sent for the prisoner at the bar; he (Nicholas) would fain know why, suspecting treason, and crept after; heard the Abbot talk to prisoner about papers and a secret chamber, which was to be disclosed to someone who should present a ring which prisoner would recognize: prisoner always making up to my Lord Abbot.
Questioned whether he had any motives for dislike to prisoner: said only that he hated favourites; once he fought with him and was thrashed; was once sent back as a truant to the Abbey, coupled between two hounds, but bore no malice for it, oh no!—only actuated by loyalty to the King; Sir John Redfyrne had shown him his duty. Here the magistrates told him they wanted to hear no more.
To sum up the story, the jury were of opinion that the identity of Sir Walter Trevannion with Prior Ambrose of Furness was clearly proved, that under that name he had been guilty of high treason, but they recommended him to mercy in consideration of his evident reformation in later years.
They found that there was not sufficient evidence to convict the younger prisoner of “misprison of treason.”
Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne desired that the Oath of Supremacy be tendered to the younger.
The judges declared that the demand could not be refused, although they thought it vexatious, and evidently expecting that the young man would at once show his loyalty, were astonished by a blank refusal.
Thereupon Sir John Redfyrne observed they might recognize the true pupil of Richard Whiting.
The judges besought the youth, who was only a little more than twenty years of age, to consider the consequences of his refusal.
He still remained obstinate, with the evident approval of the elder prisoner, his reputed father.
Thereupon sentence of death, after the usual fashion, was pronounced upon both prisoners: to be drawn upon hurdles to the cathedral yard, and there to be hanged, but not till they were dead, cut down alive, and dismembered.
The prisoners thanked God for calling them to die in what they called “so good a cause,” and thanked the jury for the patience with which they had heard them, and the desire they had shown to save their lives, with a simplicity which brought tears to all eyes.
Sir John Redfyrne, on behalf of the Crown, asked and obtained a week’s respite, such sentences being usually executed on the morrow.
The prisoners were removed; a dangerous tendency was visible amongst the mob, many of whom cried, “God bless them.”
By desire of Sir John Redfyrne they were separated and placed in solitary confinement.
“The poor lad gave him one indignant look.”
So far we have made extracts from the registers of Rougemont.
What was Sir John’s object in all this? why did he persist in securing the condemnation of Cuthbert? and then insist upon the delay of a week in its execution?
Because he trusted to the weakness of human nature, and thought that the fear of death would extract the secret he craved.
And if the fear of death did not extract it, he meant to obtain it by torture; he was provided with a warrant to that effect from the council.
Torture was not, even then, lawful in England, but could be applied by special warrant of the Privy Council, in cases where the safety of the commonwealth was concerned; and this was considered to be one, as the royal Blue-Beard himself was ravenously eager for such wholesale detection of his enemies, as would be attained by the discovery of the records of Furness transmitted to Glastonbury.
On the day following the trial and condemnation, Sir John Redfyrne visited Cuthbert in his cell.
The poor lad gave him one indignant look, then turned his head aside and would regard him no further.
“Cuthbert Trevannion, thou regardest me as thy foe, yet I am not; thou didst save my life from robbers, and I own it, and own that I must appear ungrateful beyond conception, yet I have one excuse, I love my young benefactor, but love my King and country better.”
No answer.
“Thou knowest the existence of a secret chamber at Glastonbury.”
Still no reply.
“Reveal that secret, and I pledge myself to provide for thy future fortunes, to restore thee to liberty and honour, nay to gratify the most extravagant desires of thy young heart.”
He paused in vain.
“Or, failing this, if thou wilt not be led by kindness and mercy, there remain the sharp arguments of thumb-screw and rack.”
The answer came at length.
“Do thy worst, and God judge between me and thee.”
Sir John departed.
