“Well said,” answered the Sheriff, turning to her. “I have here a writ for your arrest, my mistress, and conveyance to the Bishop’s Court at London, there to answer for your ill deeds.”
“I am ready to answer for all my deeds, good and ill, to any that have a right to question me. I will go with you.—Bab, go and tell Giles to leave the saddle on Jenny.—Doll, here be my keys; take them, and do the best thou canst. I believe thee honest and well-meaning, but I’m feared the house shall ne’er keep up its credit. Howbeit, that cannot be helped. Do thy best, and the Lord be with you! As to directions, I were best to leave none; maybe they should but hamper thee, and set thee in perplexity. Keep matters clean, and pay as thou goest—thou wist where to find the till; and fear God—that’s all I need say. And if it come in thy way to do a kind deed for any, and in especial those poor little children that thou wist of, do it, as I would were I here: ay, and let Cissy know when all’s o’er with her father. And pray for me, and I’ll do as much for thee—that we may do our duty and please God, and for bodily safety let it be according to His will.—Now, Master Maynard, I am ready.”
Four days later, several strokes were rang on the great bell of the Bishop’s Palace at Fulham. The gaoler came to his gate when summoned by the porter.
“Here’s a prisoner up from Colchester—Philippa Wade, hostess of the King’s Head there. Have you room?”
“Room and to spare. Heresy, I reckon?”
“Ay, heresy,—the old tale. There must be a nest of it yonder down in Essex.”
“There’s nought else all o’er the country, methinks,” said the gaoler with a laugh. “Come in, Mistress; I’ll show you your lodging. His Lordship hath an apartment in especial, furnished of polished black oak, that he keepeth for such as you. Pray you follow me.”
Mrs Wade followed the jocose gaoler along a small paved passage between two walls, and through a low door, which the gaoler barred behind her, himself outside, and then opened a little wicket through which to speak.
“Pray you, sit down, my mistress, on whichsoever of the chairs you count desirable. The furniture is all of one sort, fair and goodly; far-fetched and dear-bought, which is good for gentlewomen, and liketh them: fast colours the broidery, I do ensure you.”
Mrs Wade looked round, so far as she could see by the little wicket, everything was black—even the floor, which was covered with black shining lumps of all shapes and sizes. She touched one of the lumps. There, could be no doubt of its nature. The “polished black oak” furniture was cobs of coal, and the sumptuous apartment wherein she was to—lodged was Bishop Bonner’s coal-cellar.