CHAPTER XVIII

On the Point of being Wed

I will not attempt to describe my misery during the weeks which intervened between my consenting to become the wife of Sir Claudius and the dawning of the dreadful day upon which he claimed the fulfilment of my promise.

As a lover, it can easily be understood, the ruffian who had me in his power was altogether detestable, even his sisters taking pity upon me at last, and exercising a kind of rough guardianship. I was bitterly distressed because of not being allowed to see Sir Hubert for one moment before he left Crossley Hall. If I could only have said farewell to him, I thought I could have borne my position better. Sir Claudius was obdurate and would not allow us to meet for even five minutes. He told me that he was sending Sir Hubert abroad, under a safe escort, and that was all the information I could extract. For the rest, news of the entire surrender of the country to Queen Mary was brought to the house by travellers, as well as fearful tidings of the distinguished men who had passed through the Traitors' Gate into the Tower, with the certain prospect of more or less speedy execution.

Mary had entered London in state, having first dismissed her army that she might show confidence in her people. With the Princess Elizabeth by her side, she rode into the city amidst the acclamations of the multitude. They had entered the Tower, where the queen's first act was one of clemency, for she pardoned the State prisoners who had been imprisoned there during the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI. But, alas!--and this touched me more nearly--she commanded the Earl of Arundel to seize the Duke of Suffolk and Lady Jane Grey and commit them to the Tower. There were rumours that the Duke of Suffolk was soon liberated, but I did not know what truth was in the tale. I was greatly affected by the thought of my dear lady being imprisoned there, where she had been before in such different, though scarcely happier, circumstances. How she would miss me! No one would quite take my place with her, and having to do without me would add to her many troubles. However, she would be spared the knowledge of my grievous fate, and God would be merciful to her and give her His peace. Of that I was assured.

The end of the time which I insisted must elapse before my marriage came only too soon, notwithstanding its wretchedness, and at last the day arrived which I had been compelled to name as our wedding day. I felt stunned now that it had come, and everything that happened seemed to be happening in a dream.

There was a great commotion in the house, many coming and going and serving-men and women flying hither and thither. There was to be a great breakfast, or dinner after the ceremony, and to it several people were coming from the neighbourhood.

The marriage was to take place in the small chapel adjoining the house by eleven o'clock in the morning. An old clergyman had been brought to the Hall by Sir Claudius--a poor scared-looking old man--and he was to officiate.

Every arrangement for the wedding had been made, a trousseau provided for me and an elderly man found to give me away. The sisters of Sir Claudius were to be my bridesmaids, and children were to scatter flowers before me as I walked to and from the chapel.

I thought that I looked ghastly and quite plain-looking as I surveyed myself in a mirror, in my wedding-dress of white satin embroidered with gold, and a headdress and veil of costly lace, before the ceremony, but felt no regret on that account. Sleepless nights, a poor appetite and troubled thoughts are not calculated to enhance beauty, and I should have rejoiced if the sight of me had frightened away my unloved bridegroom.

The latter, dressed in a doublet of black velvet, embroidered with gold and various other adornments, looked coarser and more vulgar than ever. He strutted about, staring at people to see if they admired him and his bride.

'Did you ever see any one like her?' he said in a loud whisper to more than one of his companions. 'Beautiful as an angel, isn't she? And she is mine, mine, mine! And she is very much in love with me,' he had the audacity to add. 'Oh, yes, very much in love with me!'

The last time he said this was when he was waiting, with his best man, in the prettily decorated chapel.

I overheard him as I walked up the aisle, leaning on the man's arm who was to play the part of father and give me away. Then, for a moment, I awoke out of the stupor in which I was plunged while acting my part mechanically, and, raising my eyes, looked reproachfully at Sir Claudius. He shifted his eyes uneasily, and, with a sudden realization of what I was doing, I looked keenly around for some way of escape. I had prayed so very much that a way of escape would be opened for me out of the terrible tangle into which my life had got. Surely there must be some way of escape.

The little building was packed with the guests, the followers and the servants of Sir Claudius; behind me stood his sisters, my jailer-bridesmaids; before me was my enemy, soon to be transformed into my husband, unless by some bold stroke I could now, at the eleventh hour, avert the coming calamity. At that moment I perceived the lad Saul, standing by a door, watching me with eager eyes out of an almost colourless face, and as I looked at him I saw his lips saying, 'Wait,' though no sound fell from them.

I was certain that he said 'Wait,' although I was not learned in lip-reading, and, remembering that he had promised to try to save me from Sir Claudius, instantly resolved to delay my progress as much as possible.

For that purpose I stumbled over my dress, and fell upon my knees, in spite of my companion's efforts to keep me up. This occasioned a few moments' delay, for when I was on my feet again I clung to the arm on which I leaned, whispering that I felt faint.

'Water! Fetch water!' the order flew from lips to lips, and no one seemed to be able to carry it out, until a silver tankard of cold water was brought to me by the lad Saul.

Bowing low, as he offered it to me, he said in my ear--

'You have been deceived. Make delay. Do not say the words. Your deliverers are coming. They are on the way.'

The next moment a blow from the bridegroom's fist upon the poor lad's ear laid him senseless on the floor.

'How dare he speak to my bride! The varlet!' thundered Sir Claudius.

But I knelt down in reality now by poor Saul's side, trying to raise his head and open his collar, that he might breathe more freely.

They would not permit me to tend him. He was caught up by others and hurried away out of my sight.

'I refuse to marry you now, you cruel man!' I exclaimed.

But Sir Claudius merely smiled, and bade my conductor bring me forward.

There was a little confusion as the wedding party was being arranged before the Communion table, and I took advantage of it to say, in a low tone, to the old clergyman--

'I will not marry Sir Claudius. My promise to him was made under compulsion, and therefore it is not binding.'

The old man looked bewildered, startled. He had evidently no idea of this, and perhaps he only half heard me, for my voice was weak and low.

'It is all right. It is all right, I say,' cried Sir Claudius sharply. 'Proceed with the ceremony. Take no heed of a maiden's bashfulness.'

'It is not that,' I appealed to every one. 'I cannot----'

'Silence! Silence!' said more than one big, bullying voice from those who aided Sir Claudius, and they closed around me, making so much noise that my voice could not be heard.

They were all so absorbed that they did not hear loud shouts and cries outside, nor notice the entrance into the chapel of a little band of well-armed strangers, nor hear the call of 'Sir Claudius! Sir Claudius!' from the yard. Least of all did the bridegroom hear the tumult, for he was exerting himself to smother my remonstrances and compel me to take part in the service.

'Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?' asked the clergyman in quavering, uncertain tones. He was weak and old, in terror of Sir Claudius, and more than half persuaded that he had misunderstood me. 'Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her as long as ye both shall live?' The solemn question fell solemnly from the old man's lips, his eyes sought the bridegroom's face with great anxiety.

'I will!' cried Sir Claudius in loud, exultant tones. He looked round smilingly.

It was his hour of triumph.

'Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey and serve him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him as long as ye both shall live?'

'No,' I said, but the monosyllable was so low that none heard it. None of those around me I mean. There is One to whom a broken heart appeals more strongly than aught else.

'Say "I will,"' prompted the clergyman.

'No,' I said again more loudly, but again my utterance failed to reach the aged ears bent to listen.

'Say "I will,"' repeated the clergyman.

'I cannot,' I almost shrieked now in my agony and fear.

'You are a wicked, lying girl,' hissed the bridegroom in my ear. 'You promised to marry me.'

'But you deceived me,' ventured I.

'My dear,' said the clergyman gravely, 'try to collect yourself. Did you not come here into this chapel to be wedded to this man?'

'Yes--but----'

I thought of the man I loved, whose safety I imagined I had purchased by that daring promise to Sir Claudius, and, knowing from what Saul had said, that I had been deceived, was altogether overwhelmed with grief and misery. A mist gathered around me, the church grew dark; releasing my hand from the arm that held it, I stretched it towards the old clergyman, and then fell half-unconscious at his feet.

Instantly there was a tremendous noise in the chapel. Swords clashed, men shouted and fought wildly. Some one trod upon my dress almost upon me, and was hurled off by strong arms, which the next instant picked me up and placed me out of danger.

I heard Sir Claudius, in harsh but abject accents, begging for mercy, and, looking down--for I had been lifted into the gallery of the chapel--saw him on his knees before Sir Hubert Blair, who, brave and handsome, stood over him with his drawn sword.

'Are you a man?' asked my beloved with scorn. But, the next moment, before he could strike at him, if that was in his mind, a dozen sturdy men attacked Sir Hubert, and the fighting became so terrible that, in fear and horror, I again lost consciousness.