The news brought by Arthur Cole to the house by the bridge was true enough.  Anthony Dalaber had scarce answered the questions put to him by the prior of students at Gloucester College before he was called to answer more interrogatories before other potentates of the university.

He was bidden to follow the beadle and servants who had come for him without further ado, and had not so much as time to go to his room to make any change of shoes or hosen, which were bedaubed with mud, from his having come through the wet streets and miry roads to Gloucester College that morning at sunrise.  Having been told by the monk that the prior’s summons was urgent, he had presented himself before him instantly; and now he was hurried off in the direction of Lincoln College, with the soil and dishevelment of his sleepless night yet upon him.

Matins were evidently just over, and the students had left the chapel, but to his surprise Dalaber was pushed into that place by his conductors; and there, beside the altar, he saw Dr. Cottisford in close confabulation with Dr. Higdon, the Dean of Cardinal College, and Dr. London, the Warden of New College.  These three men were noted throughout the university for their hatred of heresy in any form, and their abhorrence of the movement which had begun to show itself amongst the students and masters.  Dalaber felt a certain sinking of spirit as he saw their stern faces, and noted their gestures and the vehemence of their discourse.  He felt it boded no good to him, and he lifted his soul in silent prayer for help and strength and wisdom.

Then they saw his approach, regarding him with lowering and wrathful glances; and at a sign from them one of the servants fetched chairs in which they seated themselves just without the choir, and the prisoner stood before them.  A man in the garb of a notary fetched a small table, with ink horn and parchment, as though to make notes of the answers of the accused.

“Your name is Anthony Dalaber,” spoke the commissary sternly; “what is your age and standing in the university?”

Dalaber explained in a few words what was asked of him, and answered some quick questions as to his removal from hall to college without betraying any confusion or hesitation.

“What made you desire to study the law rather than continue in the study of theology and divinity?”

“I had reached the conclusion that I was not fitted for the life of a priest,” answered Dalaber; “there were too many questions that troubled and perplexed me.  In the study of the law I was free from these; therefore I resolved that that should be my vocation.”

Dr. Cottisford frowned heavily.

“What need have you young men to trouble yourselves with vexed questions?  I have heard of you, Anthony Dalaber, and it is no good report that hath been brought to me.  You have been known to consort this long while with that pestilent heretic, Thomas Garret.  He has lodged with you many a time, has lain concealed in your chamber at St. Alban Hall, and has left in your charge a quantity of his pernicious books, which doubtless you have assisted him to distribute amongst other students, so spreading the poison of heresy in our godly and obedient university, and seeking to turn it into a hotbed of error and sin.”

Dalaber made no response, but his heart beat thick and fast.  It seemed as though all were indeed known.

“Speak!” thundered Dr. London, now breaking in with no small fury; “what have you to say to such a charge?”

“I have known Master Garret, it is true,” answered Dalaber, picking his words carefully.  “He is an ordained priest in the church.  He is a godly man ­”

“Peace!” roared the angry warden; “we are not here to bandy words with you, Anthony Dalaber.  We know what Thomas Garret is, and so do you.  Have a care how you provoke us.  He was known to be with you the night that he escaped first from Oxford.  He is known to have been in your chamber yesterday, ere he slipped away for the second time.  Do you dare to deny it?”

Dalaber looked with quiet firmness into the angry faces that confronted him.

“Master Garret visited me yesterday,” he answered quietly, “and went forth from my chamber after a short while, when we had offered prayer and supplication there together.”

“And whither went he?”

“I know not, unless to Woodstock, where he spoke of having a friend among the keepers,” answered Dalaber, repeating the fiction he had spoken to the prior.

“Tush!” cried the commissary angrily; “right well do you know that you went with him, and kept company with him through the night.  Your shoes and your hosen show as much.  You have been companying with him for many a mile upon the way.  You have not been in bed all night.  We were in your room before daybreak, and you were not there.”

“I abode last night with Master Fitzjames, my former comrade, in our old lodging at St. Alban Hall,” answered Dalaber readily, “and that can be proven of many witnesses.  Neither did I go forth with Master Garret when he left.  I came to St. Frideswyde for evensong, and there I saw you, Mr. Commissary, and you, Dr. London, enter to speak with the dean.  And I did well guess that you had come to tell him of the escape of Master Garret, of which he had spoken with me a short while before.”

It was perhaps not a very politic speech on Dalaber’s part.  The three men turned angry and threatening glances upon him.

“You knew that that pestilent man was being sought for, and had escaped out of our hands, and you assisted him to further flight, and told nothing of what had chanced.  Do you know the penalty which is attached to such misdemeanors, Anthony Dalaber?”

He made no answer.  He knew himself to be in their power; but he resolved not to commit himself or to betray others by any rashness, whereunto by nature he was somewhat prone.

The three judges conferred together for a brief while, and then ordered that a Mass book should be brought, and bade Dalaber lay his hand upon it and swear to answer truthfully all questions put to him.

“That will I not do,” he answered, “for I will not speak of those matters which concern other men.  And as for myself, it is abundantly plain that you know already all that there is to be spoken of mine own affairs.”

A smile passed over Dr. Higdon’s face.  He was the least severe of the three men, and something in Dalaber’s bold bearing touched a sympathetic chord in his heart.

“Then, friend Anthony, why should you fear to be sworn?  I pray you, show not yourself disobedient and contumacious, lest you bring discredit and trouble upon yourself which otherwise you may escape.  It is not our wish to deal harshly with any man; but we would fain purge our godly colleges from the taint of deadly sin.  If you are not guilty of such sin in your own soul, have no fear.  It is a guilty conscience that makes men fear to lay hands upon the holy Book and take the name of the Most High upon their lips.”

This specious but rather vague reasoning had its effect upon Anthony; and even more did the kindliness with which the words were spoken prevail with him, so that he consented to swear to speak the truth, though in his heart he resolved that he would only answer for himself, and that nothing which might incriminate others should pass his lips.

A long interrogatory now followed, in which he had much ado to fence and parry many of the questions.  He soon learned, to his deep grief and sorrow of heart, that John Clarke was under suspicion, if not already arrested under the charge of heresy.  He admitted to have been much in his company, and to have attended his public lectures, his public preachings, and those meetings in his rooms for reading, meditation, and discussion, which had long been going on.  These were well known by this time to the authorities; but only since the cardinal’s letter had stirred up suspicion and fear had there been any distrust aroused as to the nature of such meetings.  A whisper here, a hint there, had lately gone abroad, and now Anthony was closely questioned as to the nature of the doctrines discussed, and the readings which had taken place.

He answered that no word had ever passed Master Clarke’s lips that was not godly, pious, and full of the Holy Ghost.  He heeded not the angry looks of Dr. London and the commissary, but addressed himself to Dr. Higdon, who was evidently wishful to think as well as possible of one of the leading canons of his own college.  Anthony strenuously denied that Clarke had had any hand in the distribution of forbidden books or translations of the Scriptures.  When they read the Bible together, it was read both in the original and in the vulgar tongue, so that the two versions might be carefully studied together; and Dalaber maintained with spirit and success the arguments learned from Clarke that the Catholic Church in this land had never forbidden such reading and study of God’s Word.  Dr. Higdon might have been satisfied, and even spoke a few words in favour of letting the young man go to his lodgings, only binding him over to appear when summoned in the future.

But the other two, having lost Garret, were resolved to make the most of his accomplice; and they argued that what Master Clarke had or had not said was not the main point at issue.  He might or might not be the dangerous heretic some asserted.  What they maintained was that Dalaber had been associated with Garret in a hundred ways, and that a great bale of forbidden books had been discovered in a secret hiding place just outside his deserted chamber at St. Alban Hall; and that, until he had given some better account of himself and his connection with these matters, he should certainly not be allowed to depart.  Moreover, they desired to know the names of other students who had attended Master Clarke’s readings and discussions.  These were known to have taken place; but as they were mostly held in the evening after dark, it was not so easy to discover who attended them, and Dalaber was required to give such names as he could remember.

But here he was resolutely silent, and this so obstinately that he irritated his questioners to the extreme, even Dr. Higdon losing patience with him at the last.  Dalaber’s manner was bold, and to them aggressive.  The poor youth at heart felt fearful enough as he marked the anger his obstinacy had aroused; but he was resolved not to show fear, and not to betray others.  He admitted freely that he had helped Garret in the distribution of the forbidden books.  Denial would have been useless, even could he have brought himself to take a lie upon his lips and perjure himself; but he absolutely refused to give the names of any persons to whom the books had been given or sold, and this refusal evoked a great deal of anger and some rather terrible threats.

“Young man,” said Dr. London sternly, “do you know what can and may well be done to you if you remain thus obstinate, and refuse the information which we, as the guardians of the university, do justly demand of you?”

“I am in your power,” answered Dalaber; “you can do with me what you will.”

“We can do but little,” answered Dr. London.  “We can do little but keep you safe in ward ­safer than Master Garret was kept; and that shall be my task.  But what we can do later is to send you to the Tower of London, where they will examine you by the rack, and thrust you into the little-ease to meditate of your obstinacy; and then will you desire that you had spoken without such harsh pressure, and had listened to the words of counsel and warning given you by those who have your welfare at heart.  If once you are handed over to the secular arm, there is no knowing what the end may be.  Therefore take heed and be not so stubborn.”

They watched his face closely as these terrible threats were made; and Anthony, aware of their scrutiny, braced himself to meet it, and to show no signs of any sinking at heart.  And indeed the very imminence of the threatened peril seemed to act as a tonic upon his nerves, and he felt something of the strengthening power which has been promised to those who suffer persecution for conscience’ sake; so that at that moment there was no fear in his heart, but a conviction that God would fight for him and keep him strong in the faith.  Come what might, he would not betray his friends.

It was not a question of subtle doctrines, in which his understanding might become confused; it was a simple question of honour betwixt man and man, friend and friend.  He had the power to betray a vast number of men who had trusted him, and nothing would induce him to do it, not even the threat of torture and death.  He trusted to be able to endure both, should that be his fate.

“Take him away,” spoke Dr. London at last, in a voice of thunder ­“take him away, and we will see him again when discipline has something tamed his spirit.  And it will then be strange if we cannot wring somewhat more from him.  I will see him myself at a later hour; and you, Dr. Cottisford, will have a care that he doth not escape, as Master Garret did yesterday.”

“I have provided against that, methinks,” was the rather grim reply; and forthwith the three men rose and marched towards the chapel door, the prisoner being led after them by the servants.

The commissary then led the way through various passages and up a long stair, and Dalaber gazed with interest as he passed through the door of a large upper chamber, where a strange-looking apparatus stood in one corner.  It was something like the stocks set in the marketplaces of the towns, for the detention of rogues and vagrants; but the holes in this were very high up, yet scarce high enough for the hands of a man standing.

“Empty your pockets, Anthony Dalaber,” spoke the commissary sternly; and when Dalaber had obeyed, he quietly possessed himself of his purse, loose money, knives, and tablets, which, with the girdle he wore, were wrapped together and made into a packet.

“If you are found guiltless of the charges wherewith you stand accused, you shall have them again,” said Dr. Cottisford somewhat grimly; “meantime they will be safer with me.”

Dalaber’s heart sank somewhat, for he had a few silver pieces in his purse, and had thought perchance to purchase therewith some greater favour from his jailers, whosoever they should be; but being thus robbed, he was powerless in the matter, and could only trust that they would not deal with him over harshly, since he had no means of winning favour and ease.

“Set him in the stocks and leave him,” spoke the commissary.  “Then we shall know there can be none escape.”

Anthony made no resistance as he was forced to the ground and his legs firmly locked into the stocks, so that his feet were well nigh as high as his head.  He uttered no complaint, and he spoke not a word of supplication, although the commissary lingered for a few moments as though to give him chance to do this; but as he remained silent and irresponsive, the latter left the room with a muttered word that sounded like an imprecation, and Dalaber heard the chamber door locked behind him as the last servant took his departure.

Left thus alone in that constrained posture, the thoughts of Dalaber flew back to those words of fatherly counsel and warning spoken the previous year by his master and friend John Clarke; and half aloud did Dalaber repeat the concluding sentence of that address:  “Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine; then will ye curse Clarke, and wish ye had never known him, because he hath brought you to all these troubles.”

“No, no!” cried Dalaber eagerly, as though crying aloud to one who could hear his words; “that will I never do, God helping me.  Come what may, I will thank and praise Him that I have been honoured by the friendship of such a saint upon earth.  I thank Him that I have learned to love and to know the Scriptures as I never could have known them but for reading them in mine own tongue, and hearing him discourse upon them.  Come what may, none can take that knowledge from me.  Whatever I may have to suffer, I shall ever have that treasure in mine heart.  And since I am no heretic in doctrine, and believe all that the canons of the church teach, how can they treat me as one who hates and would confound her?  I am no follower of Martin Luther, though I hold that he is waging war in a righteous cause.  But I would see the church arise and cast forth from herself those things which defile; and more and more do her holy and pious sons agree in this, that she doth need some measure of purification, ere she can be fit to be presented to the Father as the bride of the Lamb.”

Dalaber was just now under the influences of Clarke rather than of Garret.  It was not only fear of what was coming upon him, though that might have some share in the matter, but he had found of late more comfort in the spiritual utterances of Clarke than in the bellicose teachings of Garret.  Moreover, he had not been blind to the fact that Garret’s courage had ebbed very visibly under the stress of personal peril, whilst Clarke’s spirit had remained calm and unshaken.  Dalaber had keen sympathy with Garret, in whose temperament he recognized an affinity with his own, and whose tremors and fits of weakness and yielding he felt he might well share under like trial and temptation.  Indeed, he did not deny to himself that, were he not thus fast bound, he might have attempted the escape which yesterday he had scorned.  But he thought upon the words of his beloved master, and spent the long, weary hours in meditation and prayer; so that when the commissary visited him later in the day and questioned him again, although he still refused to implicate others in any charge, he spoke of his own convictions with modesty and propriety, so that the commissary began to question whether he were, after all, so black a heretic as had been painted, and promised that he should have food sent him, together with pens and paper, on which he was desired to set forth a confession of his faith.  He was not, however, released from the stocks until the college was safely shut up for the night, and all gates closed.

Dalaber wrote his confession of faith with great care and skill; and he trusted that he had not committed himself to any doctrine which would arouse the ire of those who would read it.  Those very early reformers (to use the modern term) were in a very difficult position, in that they had very slight cause of quarrel with the church of which they called themselves true sons.  Modern Protestants find it hard to believe what men like Wycliffe and Latimer taught on many cardinal points.  To them it would sound like “rank papacy” now.  The split between the two camps in the church has gradually widened and widened, till there seems no bridging the gap between Christian and Christian, between churchman and churchman ­all being members of one Catholic Church.

But it was not so in the days of Anthony Dalaber.  The thought of split and schism was pain and grief to most.  Luther had foreseen it, was working for it, and the leaven of his teaching was permeating this and other lands; but it had taken no great hold as yet.  The church was revered and venerated of her children, and here in England the abuses rampant in so many lands were far less flagrant.

England had been kept from much evil by her inherent distrust of papal supremacy.  The nation had more or less combated it in all centuries.  Rome’s headship only received a qualified assent.  Sovereigns and people had alike resented the too great exercise of the papal prerogative; and this had done much for the church in England.  It seemed as though a very little would be enough to serve the purpose of these early reformers, and in the main they held the doctrines taught, and were willing and ready to obey most of the church’s injunctions.

A man like Anthony Dalaber, versatile and eager, easily roused to enthusiasm and passionate revolt, but as easily soothed by gentleness and kindly argument of a truly Catholic kind, was not a little perplexed in such a situation as he now found himself.  It seemed to him that he would be in a far more false position as a branded heretic, debarred from the communion of the church, than as a faithful son, undergoing some penance and discipline at her hands.  He spent many long and painful hours writing out his confession, seeking to make plain the condition of his mind, and proving to his own satisfaction that he was no heretic.  He only claimed that men might have liberty to read for themselves in their own tongue the words of the Lord and His apostles, and judge for themselves, under reasonable direction, what these words meant.  For the rest, he had little quarrel with the church, save that he thought the sale of indulgences and bénéfices should be stopped; and in conclusion he begged that, if he had spoken amiss, he might be corrected and reproved, but not given over as a reprobate or heretic.

Perhaps, had the words of this confession been read a few days earlier, Dalaber might have escaped with no more than a reprimand and heavy penance.  But unluckily for himself the bale of books last brought by Garret, hidden near to his chamber, and traced therefore direct to him, contained writings of a character more inflammatory and controversial than anything which had gone before ­books which were thought full of deadly errors, and against which exception could very well be taken on many grounds, both on account of their violent tone and their many contradictions.

As a matter of fact, Dalaber had hardly read any of these treatises himself.  He had been otherwise occupied of late.  But it was not likely that the authorities would believe any such disclaimer, or leave at large one who had meddled with what they regarded as so deadly a traffic.

When Anthony’s confession was brought to them, they were sitting in conclave over these books, and with a list which had been found of the names and number of works brought over and circulated by Garret.  The magnitude of the traffic excited in them the utmost concern and dismay.  If one half had been circulated in Oxford, there was no knowing the extent of the mischief which might follow.  It was necessary that an example should be made.  Already close inquiry had elicited the names of some dozen students or masters concerned.  Dalaber and Clarke were accounted ringleaders, but others came in for their share of blame.

By Monday night quite a dozen more arrests had been made, and Anthony Dalaber was only taken from the commissary’s chamber to be thrown into prison in Oxford, with the grim threat of the Tower of London sounding in his ears.