Pilgrims with "scallop-shell and sandal shoon," were gathered in little knots, discussing the various merits of the different shrines and holy places they had visited. One tall, stalwart-looking fellow related that, after walking bare-headed, with dried peas in his shoes, to the tomb of the holy St. Thomas à Becket, he had been suddenly cured of an ulcer in the leg which had troubled him for five years. Here a little man with a shrill voice interrupted him, and declared that nothing could equal the efficacy of the holy water from the altar of our Lady of Lorreto, and that her shrine was covered with offerings made to her by those whose prayers for safety from danger and recovery from sickness had been answered, even though they were far away. The sonorous voice of a vender of reliquaries was now heard, declaring that a morsel of the finger-nail of St. Bridget, which he had there in a leaden box, would keep a sailor from even wetting his feet during the hardest storm that ever blew on the Channel. He had also a crucifix, blessed by the Pope, containing a hair of St. Joseph which would give to whoever wore it next his heart long days of uninterrupted happiness and prosperity, and all this for a single noble! A little at one side stood a pardoner with his little pieces of parchment inscribed with pardons for every imaginable sin, and covering various periods, from a week to a lifetime. The prices were graded according to the enormity of the offence, and the length of time; one poor fellow who had knocked down a priest having to pay a mark, while another, who had only taken a chicken from his neighbor's yard, went off happy and secure from all transgressions for the next month, on the payment of a few groats. As he turned to a new set of applicants, a sturdy begging friar went around beseeching, or rather demanding, charity, in the name of all the saints in the calendar.
But now pilgrim, pardoner, and beggar turned alike toward the judgment-seat, for the crier had called upon John Beverly, Sir Roger Ashton, and many others, to come into court, and the men-at-arms were beating back the crowd, to make room for the prisoners to approach the table. All eyes were turned upon the nine-and-thirty men who marched between soldiers armed to the teeth, up the long hall, and took their places before their judge. A boy, who had just edged his way through the crowd, stood, with flushed cheeks and panting breath, as near to them as he could get, and then the trial began.
The crime alleged to have been committed by John Beverly and his companions, namely, that of attending meetings for other worship than the church allowed, and reading the works of John De Wickliffe to the people, needed no proof; they gloried in what their enemies called their shame, and ever since their arrest had only confirmed the accusation by their conduct in prison. They were mostly men of little note, but with Sir Roger Ashton it was different. He was a man of influence and position, who, until very lately, had been considered a faithful son of the church; and even now his character stood so high among the people, that could he be induced to recant, it would restore the ecclesiastical body to that popular favor which they had lost by their treatment of the favorite Lord Cobham, and at the same time strike a heavy blow at the progress of the reformed religion.
Having therefore read his accusation, they began to question him concerning the disputed points of faith.
As to the grand "test" question, as it was called, whether the body of Christ is really present in the sacrament, he answered so boldly and distinctly as to set the question of his Lollardism completely at rest. Fearlessly he declared that the bread and wine were no more blood and flesh after the priest had pronounced the words of consecration, than was that which was daily served at his own table; nevertheless, they were in a measure holy, having been set apart to commemorate the Saviour's death, and as such, were to be reverenced, but never worshipped.
Here the Benedictine friar raised his hands and eyes in holy horror at the very thought, and a hum of indignation was heard through the hall. The guards, however, soon enforced silence, and Arundel put the next point.
Drawing out a small, richly ornamented crucifix from under his robe, and holding it up before Ashton, he said: "What think you of this?"
Many of the assembly dropped on their knees, and all bared their heads before the sacred symbol; the nine-and-thirty alone stood upright and unmoved.
"It is a pretty bauble," said the prisoner, "and as such I would put it away carefully lest it should be harmed."
"Know you not that that is the cross of Christ through which salvation is come into the world? Infidel! saith not the scripture, 'God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of Christ'?"