“In God’s name!” (Note 6) responded Garnet. “But I hope you will provide we have not irons, for we are lame already, and shall not be able to ride after, to London.”
Sir Henry’s tender heart was touched at once.
“Well,” said he, “I will think of it.”
He thought of it to such purpose, that when they reached the inn, he placed Garnet in a private room, with a guard—his Reverence says, “to avoid the people’s gazing;” Sir Henry would probably have added that it was also in order to prevent the prisoner’s disappearance. After despatching his business he ordered his coach, and took his prisoners home with him to Holt Castle. Here, on their own testimony, they were “exceeding well used, and dined and supped with him and his every day,”—not without some apprehension on the part of their kindly gaoler that they might reward him by perverting his young daughters from the Protestant faith.
When Candlemas Day came, Sir Henry “made a great dinner to end Christmas,” and sent for wine to drink the King’s health. It was then customary for gentlemen always to dine with their hats on, and to uncover when a royal toast was proposed. The hats were doffed accordingly. The wine came in, and with it a wax candle, lighted—a blessed candle taken at Hendlip, among the “Popish trash,” and destined for use on the services of that very day, having “Jesus” painted on one side of it, and “Maria” on the other. Garnet’s heart leaped at the familiar sight, and he begged leave to take the candle in his hand. Passing it to Mr Hall, he said, half joyfully, half sadly—
“I am glad yet, that I have carried a holy candle on Candlemas Day.”
Restoring the holy wax to the unholy candlestick, the priests drank the King’s health in what Mr Garnet is kind enough to tell us was “a reasonable glass”—a piece of information the more valuable, since this adjective was not always applicable to his Reverence’s glasses.
When they came to leave Worcester, the parting between Garnet and the ladies was almost affectionate. The priest was evidently possessed of that strong personal magnetism which some men and women have, and which is oftener exercised for the purposes of Satan than in the service of God.
“Madam,” he said to Lady Bromley, “I desire you all to think well of me till you see whether I can justify myself in this cause.”
The journey to London took longer than would otherwise have been needed, on account of the condition of the prisoners. Garnet, whose sufferings had been the more severe, was also the one in whom their results lasted longest; and on the 5th of February, Sir Henry wrote that he was “but a weak and wearisome traveller.” He was, however, “passing well used at the King’s charge, and that by express orders from my Lord Salisbury,” and “had always the best horse in the company.” Garnet adds, “I had sorde bickering with ministers by the way. Two very good scholars, and courteous, Mr Abbott and Mr Barlow, met us at an inn; but two other rude fellows met us on the way, whose discourtesy I rewarded with plain words, and so adieu.” The Jesuit Superior apparently rather enjoyed a little brisk brushing of wits with well-educated gentlemanly clerics, but felt some disgust of abuse which passed for argument with others. On the evening of the 6th of February they reached London, where they were lodged in the Gate-house, and Garnet was “very sick the first two nights with ill lodging.” It was not until the 13th that the first examination took place before the Privy Council at Whitehall.