Now when I had been some five months in this place (I meanwhile marking the time by scratching with a broken potsherd a line upon the wall for each day), and hearing nothing nor receiving no summons from their lordships the Inquisidors, the alcaide told me that I must now petition for a trial. And I, being by no means desirous to bring upon myself those severities whereof I had read, yet neither wishing to be left to live out my appointed course of life in this manner, did ask that I might be visited by Father Theodorus. Now this good man I had already seen twice since the day I had entered the place, since once in every two months one of the Inquisidors, together with their lordships’ secretary, is wont to go round to all the cells, asking the prisoners whether there is aught whereof they would make complaint, and with these come Father Theodorus as interpreter. But on my sending to seek him he came again, and entering my cell with the alcaide (for no officer of the Inquisition may ever speak with a prisoner alone), he asked me with great eagerness whether I was willing to convert. And I replying that I had no such thought, he testified extreme pity and sadness, but advised me that I should put their lordships in mind of my case through him.
“Not that ’tis forgot,” says he, “for the articles of accusation are drawn up, and the witnesses have been duly examined; but their lordships were willing to grant ye a convenient space wherein to consider and repent of your deeds if ye so desired it.”
“But pray, sir,” says I, “who were the witnesses? For it hath always been told me that seven were required.”
“Why,” says he, “the chief is Dom Lewis de Bustamante, that brought ye hither. Then there is Father Sebastian, a Paulistin like myself, several gentlemen that heard ye speak blasphemies in his highness’s palace, and divers persons of the lower sort, convicts and soldiers and the like, that witnessed your carriage and heard your words on the bridge and in the square of the cathedral.”
“Truly,” said I, “you seem hard put to’t for witnesses, and yet, since you have so many, methinks Dom Lewis had done well to have made shift to resign his duty as one of ’em, which can scarce be pleasing to a gentleman of his quality.”
“Ye poor ignorant heretic!” cries Father Theodorus, “ ’tis his duty, and therefore his delight. Sure ’twas he accused ye.”
“Mine own familiar friend!” says I.
“What would ye have?” says the father. “He could do no otherwise; for if he had not done’t, sure he’d have been denounced himself by the priest. ’Tis the law that he that conceals heresy is himself a heretic, and earns the like punishment. And Dom Lewis, being an officer of this holy tribunal, must not set an example of failing in his duty.”
Now upon this I fear that I forgot myself, and uttered many things that should not have been said concerning both the Holy Office and its ministers, such as were little like to better my situation, since even Father Theodorus put his hands before his ears and besought me to cease, saying he could not stay to hear such blasphemies. And I, being loath to displease and fray away this good friend, did force myself to cease, and begged of him to take such steps as he saw best for the bringing my case before their lordships. And he departing, I felt all at once an extraordinary great grief that I should of myself have broke in upon my safe, though quiet life, and called myself a fool for my pains, and would have had him return if it had been possible.
But ’twas now too late for this, and some three days thereafter the alcaide advertised me that I was summoned to my second audience of the Inquisidors, and bade me dress myself very neat for to come before their lordships. He carried me with him then to the same chamber as before, and when we were arrived at the door on’t, knocked three times. At the third time a bell was rung from within, and the door opened by an officer, when their lordships were discovered sitting around their table as before, with the clerk ready at hand, and Father Theodorus also, bearing as solemn and devout an aspect as if he had never passed a word with me in private in his life. The Grand Inquisidor, by his means, then ordered me to kneel down and take upon a certain book the oath which they should administer to me. And this book was, in so far as I could judge, a Missale or office-book of the Roman Church. I then kneeling, they required of me to swear that I would conceal all the secrets of the Holy Office, and speak the truth. To whom I made answer that, knowing none of their secrets, it was not reasonable to suppose I could reveal ’em; but that to the second part I would swear willingly, though I needed no swearing to ensure the truth from me. Whereupon they administered the oath, and bade me again be seated.