In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,212
deaths. They had been tried and sentenced in Oxford, and the stakes were set up in the ditch near Balliol College.
It must have been a pitiable sight to see such men led to their deaths. They came out to die together.
The scene was later described to me. I did not want to hear of it but I had to know. Two such men… noble, good men in their ways, though misguided, to die so!
Latimer presented an impressive sight to the watching crowds, in his shabby frieze gown tied at the waist with a penny leather girdle, a string about his neck on which hung his spectacles and his Testament. I could not bear to think of this infirm old man shuffling to his death. But they said he had such nobility of countenance that the crowds watched in silent awe.
Nicholas Ridley, who came with him, presented a contrast.
He was about fifteen years younger and an extremely handsome man. Why…oh why? If only they would renounce their faith! But why should I expect them to do that? I would not have renounced mine.
I could not bear to think of those two men.
Neither of them showed fear. It was as though they were certain that that night they would be beyond all pain, in Heaven.
And as the sticks were lighted at Ridley's feet, Latimer turned his head toward him and said, “Be of good cheer, Master Ridley. We shall this day light such a candle, by God's Grace, in England, as I trust will never be put out.”
The power of words is formidable. There would be people who would never forget those. They would inspire. There would be more martyrs in England because Ridley and Latimer had died so bravely.
Latimer, being old and feeble, died almost immediately; Ridley lingered and suffered greatly.
There were two more to haunt my dreams.
MY GREAT CONSOLATION at that time was Reginald. I spent hours with him. He had done so much in aiding the return to Rome. I was hoping that in time he would come to be Archbishop of Canterbury now that Cranmer was in prison.
It seemed to me that that was a post which would suit him. He had more understanding of Church affairs than those of government.
While we talked, I often found myself slipping into a daydream, wondering how different my life might have been if I had married him as my mother and his had wished.
In spite of his saintliness, there was a strong streak of bitterness in his nature. It was understandable. His happy family life had been completely changed because my father had desired Anne Boleyn and had thrust aside with ruthless ferocity all those who had stood in his way. And so many had.
It was that which had changed the course of our lives, and Reginald could not forget it.
I was right. The martyrdom of Ridley and Latimer had had its effect. No one could have witnessed such a spectacle without being deeply affected by it. There was murmuring all over the country.
I was so unhappy that I fell into fits of melancholy. I was tired and spiritless. I longed for Philip. His absence was to have been brief, he had said, but in my heart I knew that, once he had gone, he would not hurry to return.
Here I was, barren and lonely, having to face the fact that the child I had so desperately wanted was nothing but a myth.
Why had God deserted me? I asked myself. When had He ever given me aught to be thankful for? Why should I be so ill-used? Those were dangerous thoughts. I must subdue them. I must, as my mother would have said, accept my lot and keep my steps steadily upon the path of righteousness.
It was inevitable that there should be plots; and there was one which could have been very dangerous.
Every few weeks someone was accusing someone. It was often proved that a person had a grudge against another or someone had made a certain remark which could have been construed as treason; but when a conspiracy was discovered which involved the King of France, that was a serious matter.
It was by great good fortune that this came to light before it had gone too far, because one of the plotters lost his confidence in the success of the rebellion and went along to Reginald to confess what he knew.
His name was Thomas White, and his part in the scheme was to rob the Exchequer of £50,000.