The Leaguer of Lathom by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Kissing the ladder, he ascended, followed after a short interval by Baguley and Paul Moreau. The officer had already gone up

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III

A Tumult

ON gaining the platform, the earl marched towards the rails, averting his gaze from the headsman and the block, and taking off his hat bowed to the assemblage.

Though surprised to find them so few in number—for he had expected a large and tumultuous crowd—he was inexpressibly touched by their sympathetic looks.

On their part the spectators were equally struck, though in a different manner, by the earl’s appearance, as he stood bareheaded before them.

To those familiar with his noble countenance, it seemed wofully changed. Skin pallid, eyes lacking lustre, dark locks streaked with grey.

But his demeanour had lost none of its dignity, and the change described gave a peculiar interest to his features, as showing the trials he had gone through.

In the course of his speech to the assemblage, his countenance brightened up, and his eyes flashed fire as he thus concluded:

“By the king’s enemies I am condemned to die, by new and unknown laws. The Lord send us our king again. The Lord send us our old laws again. The Lord send us our religion again. As for the religion now practised, it has no name. Truly can I say for myself, I die for God, the king, and the laws; and this makes me not ashamed of my life, or afraid to die.”

As these bold words were uttered, a trooper near the scaffold called out in a stentorian voice:

“We will neither have king, lords, nor laws.”

Regarding the interruption as a needless insult to the earl, the bystanders resented it by a loud groan, and hooting.

Thereupon, the whole of the troopers, exasperated by the sympathy manifested for the earl, turned suddenly round, and drove the people back, cutting at them with their swords, and chasing them in different directions. Several were wounded, and a child was ridden over and killed.

This deplorable occurrence caused the earl the greatest distress, as he was compelled to witness the painful spectacle. He vainly besought the officer to stay the hands of the infuriated troopers.

“It grieves me more than my own death,” he said, “that these poor inoffensive people should be hurt on my account—perhaps die for me.”

“The people are not inoffensive, and must be taught a lesson,” replied the officer, declining to interfere.

So the troopers continued riding backwards and forwards for some time to the great terror of the people, and the earl unable to help them, sat down in a chair, which had been placed on the scaffold, and covered his face to exclude the sight.

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IV

The Block

WHEN the tumult at length subsided, and some of the boldest of the spectators ventured to come back, the earl called to the headsman, and bade him bring him the axe.

Rudely and reluctantly, the surly fellow obeyed.

“Friend, I will not harm it,” observed the earl, as he took the implement; “and I am sure it will not harm me.”

“Nay, I won’t answer for that,” rejoined the headsman, with a horrible grin. “Maybe it will. Feel the edge, and you will find it tolerably sharp.”

“I would have it sharp,” said the earl.

And kissing the weapon he returned it to him.

“Here are two gold pieces—all I have,” he added. “I pray thee do thy work effectually.”

“I will try,” replied the churl, as he put the coin in his pouch.

“Thou hadst best take off thy doublet,” said the earl. “’Tis too cumbrous for thy work.”

“You are mistaken,” replied the man. “It will not hinder me.”

Several of the lookers on, displeased by the man’s behaviour, here called out:

“Kneel, fellow, and ask his lordship’s pardon.”

But the churl refused, and called out significantly:

“It seems you want another lesson from the troopers, my masters.”

“As thou wilt, friend,” said the earl, desirous that peace should be kept. “I give the pardon thou wilt not ask. May Heaven forgive thee also!”

Hearing a noise, and fearing a fresh delay, he earnestly ejaculated: