A few bold spirits joined us in urging on the rest; but unless a general rush were made, nothing could be done. I felt as if my heart would burst with indignation and dread—indignation that strong men should see innocent ones suffer, dread lest our efforts might be unavailing. A’Dale and I rushed among the crowd, calling on them to come on. Our actions were perceived, though our words may not have been heard, by those in authority. Guards were advancing towards us. The magistrates ordered the executioners to proceed with their work.
Already the victims were chained to the stakes, and the ruffian assistants hurried forward with faggots. We shouted—we implored the people to face the guards, and to rescue the prisoners. All our efforts, we feared, would be in vain. The magistrates shouted to the executioners to bring forward the torches. Happily they had been forgotten, and no one was ready with a light. The Bishop and the priests stormed and raged. At length some ruffians were seen in the distance, waving torches and hurrying on towards the stakes, where the victims were thus cruelly kept. But their hearts were lifted up in prayer, their eyes turned towards heaven. They heeded not what was taking place around them. The young Aveline knew that there her sainted mother had yielded up her life, and she was sure that the pathway she was about to tread would carry her in the same direction.
And now there was a loud cry, and a man on horseback was seen galloping towards the spot. We could not hear the words spoken, but there seemed to be great agitation among the magistrates and priests. The crowd swayed to and fro to let the horseman pass.
“Stay the execution! Stay the execution!” he shouted, seeing that the men with torches were about to cast them on the piles of faggots. “I command you in the Queen’s name. She will have no more burning in Smithfield!”
“This is an impostor!” exclaimed the Bishop. “Our good Queen would not hinder so holy a work.”
“What Queen sends you?” asked the magistrate.
“Queen Elizabeth!” cried the herald. “Queen Mary is dead! And by the command of our new Queen, Sir William Cecil despatched me instantly to put a stop to these murderous proceedings. Long live Queen Elizabeth!”
The cry was taken up by the crowd, who, rushing forward, dragged away the faggots from round the prisoners. The magistrates and the priests fled, the guards dispersed. Those who had charge of the garments of the prisoners brought them. A’Dale and I rushed forward to assist Aveline, who threw herself, weeping, upon my shoulder. When the friars’ garments were brought to Overton and Roger Upton—such was his name—they put them aside.
“No, no; we will never again use those habits of the worst of slaveries,” they answered; and, on hearing this, some kind people in the crowd brought them cloaks and hats, which they thankfully put on. Of the other persons who were about to suffer death, I need not make mention. They all had friends, who joyfully came forward to receive them. The cruel cords which had bound Aveline’s ankles and wrists to the stake had so hurt her that she could with difficulty walk. A’Dale and I were about to lead her off, though she was in a sad plight to pass through the streets, when a female in the crowd stepped forward, and, in a gentle voice, begged that her servants might be allowed to carry her.
“I have a hand-litter close by; she is not fit to be taken to her home in any other way.”