What he did or how he fought, Michael himself scarcely knew. What was he but one small, helpless atom in this avalanche of callous lawmakers? All that he did know was that with all the strength at his command he protested his guilt again and again, imploring judgment, uttering wild words of treason that might secure his own immediate condemnation.
"My lord, my lord," he cried loudly, "in the name of Heaven as you yourself hope for justice hereafter, listen not to these witnesses. I swear to you that they will only confirm what the others have said. I am guilty—thrice guilty, I say—yes, I plotted to murder the king. I plotted to sell England to France and to Rome. I admit the truth of every word the informers have uttered. I am guilty, my lord—guilty—judgment, in Heaven's name—I ask for judgment."
"Prisoner at the bar, I command you to be silent."
Silent, silent when so monstrous a thing was about to happen! As well command the giant waves lashed into madness by the fury of the wind to be silent when they break upon the rocks. The Lord Chief Justice commanded the musketeers to restrain this madman, to force him to hold his tongue, to drown his voice with the clatter of their arms.
The spectators stared aghast, women gasped with fear, the men were awed despite themselves in the presence of this raging torrent of a man's unbridled passion.
The general impression which this scene had created was of course that the prisoner was dreading some awful revelation which these two witnesses might make. He was avowing his guilt, therefore he did not hope to escape death; once more the superstitious dread of witchcraft rose in the minds of all. Was the accused—already practically condemned for treason—in fear that his death would mean the stake rather than the block?
A close phalanx gathered round the person of the king, who with a cynical smile was watching the confusion which occurred round the august majesty of this court. But he waved aside those who would have stood between him and Michael.
"He'll quieten down anon," he said simply, "and if I mistake not, gentlemen, we shall then learn a lesson which throughout our lives we are not like to forget."
Was it accident or design? Had Michael fought like a madman, or had his brain merely given way under an agonizing moral blow. Certain it is that suddenly he felt a terrible pain in his head, his senses were reeling, his tongue, parched and dry, refused to obey the dictates of his will that bade it protest again and again, until his heart could no longer beat, until his last breath had left his body.
He tottered and would have fallen but for strong arms that held him up. He felt that irons were being placed on his wrists, that four pairs of hands gripped his arms and shoulders so that he could no longer move. The pain in his head was well-nigh intolerable; he closed his eyes in the vain effort not to swoon.