“Then he was pleader and judge in one?”
“That is so, your Grace. Already without the royal warrant they were bound to the stake for burning, the said Maldon having usurped the prerogative of the Crown, when your Commissioner, Legh, arrived and loosed them, but not without fighting, for certain men were killed and wounded. Now they humbly crave your Majesty’s royal pardon for their share in this man-slaying, if any, as also does Thomas Bolle yonder, who seems to have done the slaying——”
“Well can I believe it,” muttered the King.
“And a declaration of the invalidity of their trial and condemning, and of their innocence of the foul charge laid against them.”
“Innocence!” exclaimed Henry, growing impatient and fixing on the last point. “How do we know they were innocent, though it is true that if Dame Harflete is a witch she is the prettiest that ever we have heard of or seen. You ask too much, after your fashion, Cromwell.”
“I crave your Grace’s patience for one short minute. There is a man here who can prove that they were innocent; yonder red-haired Bolle.”
“What? He who praised our shooting? Well, Bolle, since you are so good a sportsman, we will listen to you. Prove and be brief.”
“Now all is finished,” murmured Emlyn to Cicely, “for assuredly fool Thomas will land us in the mire.”
“Your Grace,” said Bolle in his big voice, “I obey in four words—I was the devil.”
“The devil you were, Thomas Bolle. Now, your meaning?”