“But how died he, Mr Underhill?” she cried anxiously.
“Gloriously! Like a martyr and a Prince of God’s Church, as he was, publicly repenting the recantation whereto he had set his hand from fear, and confessing Christ nobly before men, till at last they would not hear a word further—they haled and hurried him to the stake.”
“Thank God!” Her voice failed her; she could say no more.
“It was a foul and rainy day,” he went on; “so Austin told me. My Lord Archbishop was led from Bocardo to Saint Mary Church, betwixt two friars that mumbled certain Psalms, and at the church door they began the Nunc Dimittis. My Lord was ill-favouredly clad, in a bare and ragged gown, and an old square cap. Dr Cole preached, and more than twenty times during the sermon, the Archbishop was seen to have the water in his eyes. Then they did desire him to get up into the pulpit, and openly to retract his preaching, and show all the people that he was become a true Catholic.”
“And did he that?”
“‘Fair and softly go far in a day.’ Have a little patience, I pray you. Well, he spake a long season, first, against the world; item, unto obedience; item, to brotherly love; item, against money-love; and lastly, he said over the Creed. ‘And now (quoth he) I come to the great thing which so much troubleth my conscience.’ He said his hand had offended against God, in signing his recantation; and when he should come to the fire, it should be first burned. And so he spake bravely, renouncing the Pope as Antichrist, and Christ’s enemy and his, and that he utterly abhorred all his false doctrine. And touching the Sacrament, the doctrine ‘which (saith he) I have taught in my book is true, and will stand at the last day before the judgment of God, when the Papistical doctrine contrary thereto shall be ashamed to show her head.’
“Well, like Paul, they gave him audience unto this word, and then cried out, Away with such a fellow from the earth! They cried that he was false, and dissembled. ‘Ah, my masters!’ quoth our good Archbishop, ‘do you take it so? Always since I lived hitherto, I have been a hater of falsehood, and a lover of simplicity, and never before this time have I dissembled.’ The water stood in his eyes; and he would have spoken more against the Pope and the mass, but Cole crieth out, ‘Stop the heretic’s mouth! Take him away!’ Then the friars set upon him, and pulled him down out of the pulpit, and so hurried him away to the place where, five months before him, Dr Ridley had died.
“Then there he knelt and prayed, and made him, ready; and stood on the stones robed in his long white shirt, barefoot, and his head (whenas his cap were off) without one hair thereon, though his beard was long and thick. Then (he giving the hand to such as he knew about the stake), they bound the chain around him, and lit the fire. And until it was full burned, he held forth his right hand in the fire, crying ever and anon, ‘This unworthy right hand!’ At last he saith, ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!’ And so he yielded it up to Him. But afterward, when his ashes were cold, amid the charred faggots his heart was found entire.
“So passed that great heart away from us, that perchance we knew not fully how to prize. Beshrew my weak eyes! I am but a fool; yet ’tis hard to think that we shall see his reverend countenance no more.”
And Mr Underhill dashed away the tears from his eyes, much like Philippa Basset. Isoult never had seen him thus affected before.