He charged these near relatives with having constantly “lain at him” ever since he was in Mr. Harrison’s service, urging him to help them with money, reminding him how poor they were, and how easy it was for him to relieve them; he need do no more than give them notice when his master went to receive his rents, and they could then waylay him and rob him. Perry went on to say that he met his brother Richard on the very morning that Mr. Harrison went to Charringworth, and that the brother, hearing of the rent collection, was resolved to have the money; that when he (John Perry) started by his mistress’s order to bring Mr. Harrison safely home, he again met his brother Richard, who was lying in wait at a gateway leading from Campden Churchyard into the “Conygree,” certain private grounds and gardens of Lady Campden’s place. By-and-bye, having entered this “Conygree,” which was possible only to those who had the key, he found that his master was being attacked; he was “on the ground, his brother upon him, and his mother standing by.” He begged hard that they would not hurt his master, who was crying, “Ah, rogues, you will kill me!” but his brother Richard replied: “Peace, peace! you are a fool,” and so strangled him, “which having done, he took a bag of money out of his (Mr. Harrison’s) pocket, and threw it into his mother’s lap,” and then he and his mother consulted what to do with the body.
It was decided that they should drop it into the Great Sink, behind certain mills near the garden, and this they did. John Perry told all this most circumstantially, making it agree with his own movements and the various facts that had come to light, describing how he had gone into the hen-roost but could not sleep; how he had taken with him the hat, band, and comb (and cut the latter with his knife), how he had cast them down upon the highway where they were found, giving as his reason that he hoped it might be believed that his master had been robbed and murdered.
The justices, on this confession, sent to search the Sink at the mill, but without success; “the fish pools likewise in Campden were drawn and searched, but nothing could be there found,” so that “some were of opinion the body might be hid in the ruins of Campden House, burnt in the late wars, and not unfit for such concealment, where was likewise search made, but all in vain.” No time was lost, however, in securing the other Perrys—Joan, the mother, and Richard, both of whom were informed of the accusation brought against them, which “they denied with many imprecations.” John, nevertheless, persisted that he had spoken nothing but truth. Suspicion was strengthened against Richard Perry by his being seen to drop a ball of “inkle,” which he declared was his wife’s “hair lace,” but which John, when it was shown to him, said he knew to his sorrow, for it was the string his brother had strangled Mr. Harrison with. Other significant evidence was quoted, as that Richard’s nose “fell a-bleeding” when he met his children, being on his way to be admonished by the minister in church. Again, it was remembered that a year before there had been a robbery at Mr. Harrison’s, when £140 was stolen from the house at noonday; and John Perry was now asked if he knew aught of the matter. His answer was that his brother Richard was the thief, that he, John Perry, had given him notice that the money was in a room that could be reached by a ladder to the window, and that Richard had stolen it while the master was in church with his whole family “at lecture.”
The three Perrys, Joan, John, and Richard, were arraigned at the next assizes on two separate counts: house-breaking and robbery (of £140), and again robbery and the murder of William Harrison. The judge would not allow the second charge to be proceeded with, as no body had been found, but they acknowledged, indeed, pleaded guilty to it, begging for the king’s pardon under the recent Act of Oblivion. The charge of murder was again advanced at the next assize before another judge, and allowed; it ended in a verdict of guilty, mainly on the strength of John’s confession, although by this time John had gone out of his mind. This was enough to satisfy those who administered the law; and the three, Joan, John, and Richard Perry, were all sentenced to be hanged. The execution was carried out without delay on Broadway Hill, in sight of Campden, where John was also hung in chains.
The strangest part of this affair has yet to be told. William Harrison was not dead; he had been much misused, but had not been murdered, and three years later he reappeared in the flesh. His was a marvellous tale, and its veracity was questioned at the time, but we cannot discredit it entirely.
The account he gave of himself is found in a letter he addressed to Sir Thomas Overbury, whose narrative has been followed throughout.
On the day in question, Thursday, the 16th of August, 1660, he went to Charringworth to collect Lady Campden’s rents, but as harvest was in progress the tenants did not come home from the fields till late, and he was kept at Charringworth till nightfall. He received no more than £23, although he had expected a very considerable sum. With this in his pocket he took his road home, and reached at length the Ebrington Furzes, where the tract passed through a narrow passage. Here he was suddenly faced by a man mounted on horseback, and fearing to be ridden down he struck the horse over the nose, whereupon the horseman drew his sword and attacked him, Harrison making what defence he could with his cane. Then came another behind him, who caught him by the collar and dragged him towards the hedge, and after him a third. They did not rob him of his money, but two of them lifted him into the saddle behind the third, and forcing his arms around the rider’s middle, fastened the wrists together “with something that had a spring lock to it as I conceived by hearing it give a snap as they put it on.” After this they threw a cloak over him, and carried him away, riding some distance till they halted at a stone pit, into which they tumbled him, having now taken all his money. An hour later they bade him come out of the pit, and when he asked what they would do with him they struck him, then mounted him again in the same manner; but before riding away they filled his pockets with a great quantity of money, which incommoded him much in riding, so that by next afternoon, when they again drew rein, he was sorely bruised.
They had come now to a lone house upon a heath, where he was carried upstairs, and they stayed the night. The woman of the house was told that he was much hurt, and was being carried to a surgeon; they laid him on cushions on the floor, and gave him some broth and strong waters. Next day, Saturday, they rode on as before and they lay that night at a place where there were two or three houses, where again he slept on cushions. The next day, Sunday, they reached Deal, and halted by the seaside. One of them kept guard over the prisoner while the two others entered into conference with a man who was awaiting them. This man, whose name he afterwards heard was Renshaw, was afraid that Harrison would die before he could be got on board, but he was put into a boat and carried to a ship, where his wounds were dressed, and in a week’s time “he was indifferently recovered.” Now the master of the ship came one day to say that they were chased by Turkish pirates, and when all offered to fight in defence of the ship he would not suffer it, but handed them over prisoners to the Turks. They were lodged in a dark hole, and remained there in wretched plight, not knowing how long it was before they landed, nor where they were put on shore, except that it was a great house or prison. Presently they were called up and viewed by persons who came to buy them, and Harrison, having said that he had some skill in physic, was taken by an aged physician who lived near Smyrna, and who had at one time resided in England, at Crowland, in Lincolnshire. Harrison was set to keep the still-room, and was fairly well treated, except on one occasion, when his master, being displeased, felled him to the ground, and would have stabbed him with his stiletto.
After nearly two years’ captivity Harrison’s master fell sick and died, but before the end he liberated his captive, and bade him shift for himself. Harrison made his way to a seaport about a day’s journey distant, where he met two men belonging to a Hamburg ship, and now about to sail for Portugal. He implored them to give him passage, but they replied that they did not dare, nor would they yield for all his importunity. At last a third man from the same ship consented to take him on board provided he would lie down above the keel, and remain hidden till they got to sea. They carried him safely to Lisbon, where they put him on shore, penniless and friendless, as he thought, but he happened fortunately on three Englishmen, one of whom took compassion on him, provided him with lodging and diet, and at last procured him a passage home.