The Leaguer of Lathom by W. Harrison Ainsworth

While changing his linen he said to Paul Moreau:

“Take care that this shirt is not taken from me, but let me be buried in it.”

“It shall be done, my lord,” replied the valet.

The earl then sent for Lord Strange, who had brought him the blue riband of the Garter, and now helped him to put it on.

“Charles,” he said to his son, “I shall not wear this order long, but I desire to be seen in it on the scaffold. Baguley will bring it back to you. Return it, I pray you, to my most gracious sovereign, and say that I sent it back to him in all humility and gratitude—spotless as I received it.”

This done, he desired to be left alone, and prayed in private for nearly half an hour, during which his groans and interjections could be heard by those in the outer room, and when he came forth his eyes still bore traces of tears.

Addressing those present, he said:

“I must now bid you farewell for ever. Think not from any signs of affliction you may discern on my countenance that I am unwilling to leave the world, being well assured that I shall be carried from trouble to rest and peace—from sorrow to lasting bliss. Death has no other bitterness for me save that it takes me from those I love. But I leave them to the care and protection of a better husband and a better father. As to my relentless enemies I freely forgive them, and beseech Heaven to forgive them likewise.”

He then called to Lord Strange, who knelt down and received his blessing.

Tenderly embracing him, when he arose, the earl said:

“Farewell, dear son. It is not fit you should accompany me to the scaffold, so I shall behold you no more in this world, but I trust we shall meet in Heaven. Again, I commend your admirable mother to you. Farewell!”

Then gently disengaging himself from Lord Strange, whose arm was still round his neck, and who was weeping bitterly, he bade Moreau inform the officer he was ready.

After a brief interval, the door was thrown open, and with a firm footstep the earl commenced his march to death, preceded by the officer with a drawn sword in his hand, and followed by Baguley, Paul Moreau, and two other servants.

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II

The Headsman

THE few sorrowing persons standing around, would undoubtedly have pressed upon the earl, or knelt down before him, if they had not been prevented by the double line of musketeers through which he had to pass.

Even now the scaffold was scarcely finished, and not being draped with black, had a mean look.

However, it was in a great measure hidden by the troopers who were drawn up round it, with their horses’ heads turned towards the rails.

The executioner was already at his post, a churl who might have been chosen for his repulsive countenance; or more probably because no one else would fill the odious office.

The beholders regarded the caitiff with loathing and horror, and their execrations and opprobrious epithets constantly reached his ears.

From his deep-sunken fiery eyes, long black upper lip, projecting teeth, and heavy jaw the fellow resembled a bull-dog. Habited in a stout leather doublet, he wore a leather cap over his closely-cropped hair.

Near him was the block, beside which was placed the axe—a very heavy implement with an unusually short handle—the blade being large, convex in shape, and exceedingly keen.

At a little distance from the block was the coffin, the lid of which had been taken off.

On his way to the scaffold, the earl called out to the people whose prayers and lamentations he could hear:

“Good friends, I thank you heartily. The God of Mercy bless you? Continue to pray for me, I beseech you! And may our blessed Lord return your prayers into your own bosoms!”

Before mounting the steps, at the top of which stood two pikemen, he paused for a moment and exclaimed aloud:

“Heaven, I thank thee that I am not afraid to go up here, though there are but these few steps to my eternity!”