While he was praying a very old woman, in poor rags, that was standing among the people, ran in and knelt by his side, and prayed with him.
Homes caught hold of her and tried to drag her from the Doctor, but she screamed loudly and clung to the Rector's knees.
"Tread her down with horses; tread her down," said Sir John Shelton, his face purple with anger.
But even the knight's men would not do it, and there was such a deep threatening murmur from the crowd that Shelton forbore, and the old woman stayed there and prayed with the Doctor.
At last he rose, blessing her, and, dressed only in his shirt, big, burly, and very dignified, he went to the stake and kissed it, and set himself into a pitch barrel, which they had put for him to stand in.
He stood there so, with his back upright against the stake, with his hands folded together, and his eyes towards heaven, praying continually.
Four men set up the faggots and piled them round him, and one brought a torch to make the fire.
As the furze lit and began to crackle at the bottom of the pile, the man Homes, either really mad with religious hatred, or, as is more probable, a brute, only zealous to ingratiate himself with his commander, picked up a billet of wood and cast it most cruelly at the Doctor. It lit upon his head and broke his face, so that the blood ran down it.
Then said Dr. Taylor, "O friend, I have harm enough; what needed that?"
Then, with Sir John Shelton standing close by, and the people round shuddering with horror, the Rector began to say the Psalm Miserere in English.