Then, at a signal from Lord Arundel, the Clerk of the Court rose and "called on" the case which was occupying the minds of all men present.
"The Queen v. William Jefferay; prisoner at the bar," he cried in loud tones, "you are charged that on the 17th of July last you committed an assault upon the Queen's Pursuivant; how say you—are you guilty or not guilty?"
William bowed low to the Chancellor, and in subdued but distinct tones replied—
"Not guilty, my Lord."
"Let us hear the witnesses," said Lord Arundel, and thereupon the Pursuivant arose; behind him stood his assistants.
There was something vindictive and threatening in the attitude and voice of the Pursuivant—a note of triumph rang out with his words.
He felt sure of his case, and positively sure of the identity of the accused with his assailant in the woods of Chiddingly.
In slow and measured terms the Pursuivant gave his evidence, telling the tale of the assault in the woods in full detail.
His two halberdiers, as witnesses of the attack upon the Queen's officer, bore testimony to the truth of the charge made against the prisoner.
The Court was but thinly attended; the general public could only obtain admission by invitation, and this was rarely accorded.