Geoffrey the Lollard

by Frances Eastwood

His audience, hardly knowing what they did, rose to their feet, and repeated with him the closing verses.

When the last words were spoken, silence reigned in the room, only broken by the low sobs of some of the assembly. Then a feeble, aged voice, near the centre of the room, said: "Let us pray."

Every knee was bent while the old man prayed in simple, touching words for their persecutors, Arundel the archbishop, the king, and others, and then for many near and dear ones who were even then in the persecutors' power. But he prayed more that they might be enabled to hold fast the faith without wavering, than that they might be delivered from bodily pain.

As he mentioned each by name, the deep though suppressed groan from some weeping member of the assembly told where a loving heart was longing for the safety of some dear one. But when they arose from their knees, all were calm and composed, grave but not sad, for the words of comfort had entered into many hearts.

Afterward the preacher discoursed for some time on the disputed doctrines of the day, proving the Lollard views by passages from the Bible, and from the writings of Wickliffe. He closed with an earnest appeal to all to stand fast in the faith. "Lo, friends and brethren, I know the power of Antichrist. Full many times have I suffered bonds and imprisonments for the truth's sake, yet therefore do not I boast. I do triumph, but not through myself, but that Christ may be glorified in my poor body. Yea, the flames and the stake would be welcome to me, if through my pains and steadfastness his name might be glorified and souls turned to him. And now I go to London, and it seemeth to me it is the Lord's will that there I should end this earthly journey. Even so, come, Lord Jesus! Henceforth is laid up for me a crown of righteousness. Come then, my soul, and be of good courage. Look at the home prepared for thee in heaven. The smart of the flames is naught when it leadeth to everlasting glory above. Be of good courage, O my soul, for behold, Christ giveth thee the victory!"

Some of the women and children now prepared to depart, but not by means of the secret passage, which was known only to a few. The preacher was surrounded by the men, and eager questions were interchanged in regard to the safety of various individuals. A fine-looking, elderly man, evidently the father of the two boys, related the seizure of Lord Cobham and his trial, his manly defense before the council, his condemnation and imprisonment in the Tower, and the faint hopes which were entertained of his escape.

All this was new to the preacher, who had only just arrived from the southern counties; and he received the tidings with surprise and grief.

"Lord, how long," he said, "how long shall thy people be down-trodden by the oppressor? Look upon thy church lest we be utterly consumed."

Refreshment was now brought to the stranger, for it wanted but two hours of daybreak, and he must soon be on the way.

Geoffrey, meanwhile, had gone through the secret entrance to the wood, to see if any danger were near, if any spy lurked on the road through which the traveller must pass. He had not been long gone before he returned, bringing with him another stranger, also closely wrapped in the coarse, loose cloak usually worn by the peasantry. His garments were dripping with the rain, which had fallen plentifully during the night, and stained with mud; and his wooden shoes were filled with water. Such was the person that Geoffrey, with a wondering, anxious look, presented to his father and the preacher. All he knew was that the stranger had given the pass-word, which entitled him to the secret passage through the rocks. He looked attentively upon the men before him, and then threw away his cloak, and raised the cap from his brow. For a moment they looked at the features thus suddenly disclosed, when, with a cry of joy, the preacher flung himself on the ground before him, clasping his knees, and exclaiming: "My lord, O my lord, alive and safe! My God in heaven, this is too much mercy! What, John De Forest, know you not the Lord of Cobham, the father of the church?"