how derrick carver was placed in a vault beneath
the star inn at lewes.
at the period of our history, lewes, as we have just intimated, was surrounded by walls built of stone, and of considerable strength, though few traces of these fortifications are now left. at the west gate of the town the party was met by the high sheriff, sir richard de warren, and master piddinghoe, the headborough, attended by a large posse of men armed with halberds. besides these, there were many burgesses and priests, who had come forth to see the prisoner. at this place derrick carver was delivered over to the high sheriff by captain brand, who at the same time handed to sir richard the warrant for the prisoner’s execution.
“all shall be ready for the ceremonial to-morrow morning,” said de warren. “we cannot lodge him in the castle, but we will place him in a vault beneath the star inn, where he will be perfectly secure.”
“i have fulfilled mine office in delivering him into your hands, sir richard,” replied brand. “but my orders from sheriff woodrooffe are to tarry here till the sentence is carried out.”
“you will not be detained beyond to-morrow morning, sir,” said de warren.
on this the party passed through the gate, and began to move slowly down the high street, which formed a gradual descent towards the centre of the town. on either side the 340street were habitations of various sizes, but all of quaint and picturesque architecture. as the train advanced, the inhabitants came forth to see the prisoner, to many of whom he was personally known, and these loudly expressed their commiseration, and their abhorrence of his persecutors.
by the time the train had reached the massive norman gate of the castle, so large a crowd had collected that the progress of the party was impeded, and the high sheriff’s attendants had to use the poles of their halberds to effect a passage. in spite, however, of the exertions of the officers and men, the throng could not be kept back, but forced themselves up to the prisoner, and catching hold of his garments, and clinging to his horse, besought his blessing.
“stand back!—touch him not!” cried father josfrid. “he is excommunicated.”
little attention however, was paid to the priest. in vain carver besought those nearest him to retire—in vain the officers commanded them to stand back—they would not stir. at last, force was employed, they were thrust violently aside, and amid shrieks of terror and groans and yells of indignation, carver was hurried along, and finally conveyed through a gateway into a large yard at the rear of the star inn. as soon as this had been accomplished the gate was shut, and a guard placed in front of it.
this ancient hostel, which still exists, though it has undergone many transformations, was then a large and substantial structure, capable of accommodating a great number of guests, and was managed by dame dunster, a buxom widow, whose boast it was that the best mutton in sussex, the fattest capons, the most perfectly seasoned venison pasties, the most delicious stewed eels, and the brightest sack and claret, were to be had at the star at lewes. besides these good things, and many others, those who lodged with dame dunster had the luxury of linen white as snow, and fragrant of lavender. nothing, in short, was wanting at the star—a comely and good-humoured landlady, young and not ill-favoured handmaidens, and active drawers—these for the guests, while for their steeds there were good stables and good provender.
beneath the hostel there existed, and indeed still exists, a large vault, wherein, as the high sheriff had intimated to captain brand, it was intended to place derrick carver for 341the night. the subterranean chamber was of great strength, the roof high and arched, and the walls of solid stone. it was of great antiquity, and had originally belonged to a monastic edifice. on one side, at a considerable height from the ground, was an unglazed window or aperture, contrived for the admission of air and light. this aperture was placed on a level with the street, and was secured by stout iron bars, fixed horizontally and close together. this singular vault is still much in the same state as we have described it, though it is now used for other purposes than as a place of detention of prisoners, being, in fact, a very cool and commodious cellar.
when derrick carver was taken into the inn-yard, as already related, he became so faint that he was obliged to sit down on a horse-block for a few minutes to recover himself. noticing his feeble condition, dame dunster who had come forth to look at him, kindly sent for a cup of sack, and offered it to him. but father josfrid again interposed, and bade her take the wine away, if she would not fall under the same ban as the miserable wretch before her. but the kind-hearted hostess persisted, whereupon the priest snatched the cup from her, and dashed its contents on the ground.
“you must have a heart utterly void of compassion, or you could not act thus,” cried dame dunster to father josfrid. “you would see the poor man die, and not raise a hand to help him. it would be happy for him, indeed, if he were to die, as in that case he would escape further cruelty.”
“i am better now,” replied derrick carver, raising himself to his feet by a great effort. “i lack not the wine you would have given me to drink, but i thank you heartily for the kind intent, and invoke heaven’s blessings upon your house.”
“thy blessings will prove curses, thou outcast from heaven,” cried the priest.
“be not troubled by his words, good sister,” said carver. “be mindful of what i say to you. avoid idolatry and superstition. place your faith in the gospel, and you shall live. pray for me, sister, and i will pray for you.”
dame dunster and her maidens turned away weeping, while carver descended a flight of stone steps leading to the 342vault, the door of which being unlocked he was rudely thrust into the subterranean chamber. a few trusses of straw for a couch, with bread-and-water for sustenance, being supplied him, he was left alone, and the door locked outside.
after glancing round the vault, noting its size, and the solidity of its walls, carver turned his attention to the barred opening, already described as being on a level with the street. through this opening noises reached his ears, but no one was allowed to approach and hold converse with him, a guard being placed outside the inn.
carver took a few turns in the vault, and then sitting down upon a wooden bench, which constituted its sole furniture, took out his bible, which had been happily spared him, and began to read it. he had been occupied in this manner for some time, when the strokes of a pickaxe dealt upon the stones in the street disturbed him, and he raised his head to listen. by-and-by the clatter of a shovel was heard—then there was a great noise as if several men were carrying a heavy mass, which appeared to be plunged into a hole that had just been digged; and then there was a dull, dead, thumping sound, as if the earth were being beaten down by a ram.
suspecting what was going forward, but desiring to know the truth, carver placed the bench immediately below the window, and, mounting upon it, raised himself so that he could just look through the bars into the street. he then found that his conjectures were correct, and that the noises he had heard were caused by men who were planting the stake in the ground to which he was to be attached on the morrow. with a mournful curiosity he watched them at their work, and did not withdraw till the stake was firmly secured, and a heavy iron chain attached to it. he had just got down, when he heard captain brand, whose harsh voice he instantly recognised, giving directions to the men.
“take care that plenty of fagots are provided,” he said; “and, furthermore, i must have an empty tar-barrel large enough to hold the prisoner. he boasts of his firmness,” added brand with a bitter laugh. “we will see whether we cannot shake it.”
it would seem that he was likely to be disappointed in his expectation, for carver heard the order given without the 343slightest feeling of dread, but calmly resumed the perusal of the sacred volume at the point where he had laid it aside. neither did he desist until it grew dark, and he was unable to read longer.
he then knelt down and prayed fervently, continuing his vigils until long after midnight, when weariness overcame him, and flinging himself upon the straw, he presently fell asleep.
he was roused from his slumbers by a stone which fell upon the floor of the vault not far from where he was lying, and as he stirred he heard a voice calling to him from the barred window, and looking in that direction, he could just distinguish the figure of a man.
“who speaks?” he demanded rising to his feet.
“a friend,” replied the other. “come nearer—quick!”
“the voice seems familiar to me,” observed carver, “and if i did not deem it impossible, i should say it was——”
“it is he you suppose,” interrupted the speaker. “come as near me as you can, and come quickly, for i may be discovered.”
thus adjured, carver mounted the bench, and was then only separated by the bars from the person outside, whom he now recognised as osbert clinton.
“why have you incurred this danger on my account, oh, rash young man?” he cried.
“i have somewhat to impart,” replied osbert; “but i must be brief, for though the man on guard has quitted his post, he may return. in a word, then, i shall make an attempt to deliver you from these bloodthirsty tigers to-morrow. i have half a dozen friends with me, and when you are brought forth for execution, we will fall upon the guard and set you free.”
“i forbid you to make the attempt, my son,” replied carver. “i am fully prepared to die, and would not accept a pardon from my enemies were it offered me. by freeing me as you propose, you would wrest from me the crown of martyrdom which i hope to win at yonder stake. my race is almost run, and the goal is at hand. i have done with the world, and would not be brought back to it. my last sufferings will be sharp, but they will be speedily over, and i rejoice that i am able to bear them. again, i say, this attempt must not be made.”
344“since you will have it so, i must needs obey,” rejoined osbert, in a mournful tone. “and yet i would try to move you.”
“it would be in vain,” said carver. “our moments are precious. let them not be wasted in idle discussion. i will not fly from the death prepared for me. the stake is ready, and shall not want the victim. i know you will readily do me a service. seek out my poor wife and children at brightelmstone, and bid them farewell for me.”
“i have already seen them,” replied osbert. “your wife is ill—too ill to leave the house—and i enjoined her not to come here to-morrow.”
“you did right—quite right,” rejoined carver. “what of my aged mother?” he demanded, in a voice of profound emotion.
“i ought to have no concealment from you now,” said osbert. “your mother is no more.”
“i thought so,” replied carver, after a pause. “she appeared to me just now during my slumber. her countenance wore a heavenly smile, and methought her lips opened to address me, but i could not catch the words she uttered. her spirit was still hovering nigh me when you woke me from the blissful dream.”
there was a deep, solemn pause, after which carver continued: “and now, osbert clinton, i have some counsel to give you. the success of the great enterprise on which you are engaged will depend on the prudence with which it is conducted. be not rash. wait for a favourable opportunity to strike the blow, and take heed that you do not place confidence in traitors.”
“we expect men and money from france,” said osbert.
“france will play you false, as she has done before,” replied carver.
“but we are obliged to trust to that power, since we have now no other resources,” said osbert. “all our possessions have been seized and sequestered, and we have not wherewithal to pay the host we could raise. we have men, but not money. we lack as many chests of gold as were brought from spain by philip when he landed at southampton.”
345“what became of that spanish bullion?” demanded carver.
“part of it has been expended in bribes to our venal nobles,” replied osbert. “but the rest is deposited in the tower.”
“is there much of the treasure left?” inquired carver.
“half is left, as i understand,” replied osbert.
“why not seize upon it, then?” cried the other. “’tis lawful spoil. instead of being employed to corrupt mercenary nobles to enslave their country, let it be used to free the land from spanish thraldom and popish tyranny. have no scruples. seize upon it, i say. it was brought into england to forge golden fetters for our rulers, let it be turned into avenging swords.”
“that treasure, indeed, would accomplish all we seek, if we could obtain possession of it,” said osbert. “but i have told you it is safely deposited in the tower.”
“and i say to you that it must be your business to get it thence,” rejoined carver.
“you would not have me lay siege to the tower to obtain it?” said osbert.
“by stratagem you may accomplish what you desire,” returned carver. “i have no plan to suggest; but if you weigh the matter carefully over, one is sure to occur to you.”
“i will give it due consideration,” said osbert. “have you aught more to say?”
“only to wish you happiness with her you love,” replied carver. “my last words to constance were to urge her to look forward confidently to the day when she will be united to you. for that day will come. it may not come so soon as you anticipate and desire, but come it will. one word more, and i have done. should this insurrection prosper, and your enemies fall into your hands, let no harm befal cardinal pole. and now tarry no longer, my son. take my blessing with you, and depart.”
“it is time,” replied osbert. “i hear the footsteps of the guard. i shall be near you at the stake. adieu!”
so saying, he disappeared, while carver, descending from the bench, knelt down and prayed fervently.
his devotions ended, he arose, and bethinking him of 346the vision he had seen during his slumber, he called out, “spirit of her from whom i derived my being, if thou art indeed permitted to visit me, and art nigh me now, as i think, i adjure thee to manifest thyself to me in the same angelic form, and with the same angelic aspect, as i beheld thee in my dream. appear before me in this celestial guise if thou canst, and cheer and comfort me with thy smile!”
at the close of this invocation, which he uttered with great fervour, he looked around, half hoping that the spirit would become visible, but nothing met his gaze except the gloomy walls of his prison. he fancied, however, that he heard something like a soft, low sigh, and felt a breath of cool air upon his brow.
“it may not be,” he said. “thou canst not reveal thyself to me, or mine eyes are unable to discern thee. but i must have patience. in a few short hours i shall be as thou art, and we can then hold the communion together which is denied us now.”
he then resumed his devotions, and continued in earnest prayer till dawn glimmered through the bars of the window, and ere long filled the vault with light.
then some slight stir began to be heard in the street, and by-and-by those on guard peered in at the bars of the window. they beheld the prisoner seated upon the bench, with the bible open on his knee, profoundly occupied in its perusal.
