Chapter IX: Anne Ascue

THE hand of Mr. Presgrave was on the last sheet of paper, neatly folded, and tied with red tape. Percy looked uneasy, and edged back his chair till he was almost hidden in the shadow of the screen. Mr. Presgrave then proceeded as follows:

Percy's Tale.

ANNE ASCUE.

"'Has she confessed nothing?'"

"'Nothing, my lord.'"

"'And recanted nothing!'"

"'Nothing.'"

"'There is no doubt but that she could give information to implicate the Queen,* whose influence with King Henry is tottering now, and ready to fall with a breath. We must try sterner means; bring the prisoner before us; she can speak, she must, and she shall.'"

* Queen Catherine Parr, the sixth and last wife of Henry VIII. This Queen favoured the Reformation, and had many enemies, who hoped, by torturing Anne Ascue, to induce her to confess something that might ruin her royal mistress, and perhaps even bring her to the block.

"Thus spake stern Wriothesley, Chancellor of Henry VIII., leaning back in his massive chair, and folding his arms with an air of gloomy determination. On what are his dark eyes sternly fixed?—a long, fearful-looking machine, beside which stands a dark executioner. Do you ask its name and its use? Mercy shudders, and is silent.

"And now there is a light step in the hall, a slight female form is led before the judge, and Anne Ascue stands so near to the instrument of torture, that her white robe touches its iron wheel, and unconsciously she half leans upon the frame."

"Wriothesley beckons to his secretary, a hard-featured man in the garb of a monk, who at the sign takes a seat at a small table near, and placing a blank sheet of paper before him, remains ready to take down the confession of the prisoner."

"'Woman,' said the Chancellor, 'for the last time mercy is offered to thee; thou mayest earn it by a full confession and a free recantation.'"

"How silvery were the tones of the tremulous voice that replied: 'Recant!—that I cannot, or deny the truth. Confess!—I can confess my sins, and I can confess my faith, and I know that I shall find mercy, but not from man!'"

"'This is trifling. Look behind you!' spake Wriothesley."

"Then, indeed, all colour faded from the cheek of the young Lollard,* an expression of intense horror passed over her features, she clasped her hands and looked wildly round, as though seeking a protector in that stern company. But none stood forwards to help the oppressed; those whose hearts felt pity shunned meeting her gaze; slowly she raised it towards heaven, and her lips moved in silent, fervent prayer."

* A name given to the Reformers (we now call them Protestants)
in early times.

"' Once more, prisoner, I demand, wilt thou recant?'"

"With a violent effort Anne gasped forth, 'Never!'"

"Wriothesley made a sign to the executioner, and the stern man silently obeyed.

"And who was she who was stretched upon the rack, and what was the crime for which she suffered? A young, tender lady, whose home had been a court, whose companion the wife of her king! And her crime was love for Gospel-truth, a devotion which led her freely to exchange a palace for a dungeon, and pleasures for the rack!

"Thought dare not dwell on the terrible scene; pain could wring forth only cries to Heaven, and prayers to the Saviour for whom she suffered."

"And He was with her in that fiery trial, as His presence was with the young men in the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar; in weakness He was her strength, in anguish her comfort. He could breathe into the soul of the tortured martyr, 'Rejoice and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven!'"

"The heart of the stern executioner was touched; he paused, he could not proceed. Impatiently Wriothesley sprang from his seat, with his own hand turned the fatal wheel—a shriek burst from the lips of his victim!"

"'Retract!—confess!' These words rung in her ears. Oh! What mortal courage is sufficient for this hour;—God, God alone can support and strengthen! And God did strengthen—God did support. Anne's half-lifeless form was raised from the rack; the secretary's page was yet a blank. She had neither betrayed her faith nor her Queen!"

"Anne Ascue was carried to the stake the next day; she had no longer power to walk; but the bitterness of death to her was past! Calmly she gazed on the dreadful preparations, and saw in the heaped but 'the prophet's fire to bear her to a Father!' Soon all was over; cruelty had done its worst, it had sent its victim sooner to her eternal home. The soft breezes scattered the ashes of the martyr, and her spirit was rejoicing in the realms of light."

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"Can such a terrible story really be true?" cried Julia.

"Too true," replied Mr. Presgrave. "Anne was but one of many martyrs who suffered for the truth in the reigns of Henry VIII and Queen Mary."

"Ah!" said his wife. "When we read our precious Bibles, we little think how much blood has flowed, and what agonies have been endured, to secure to us a privilege which we often value too lightly!"

"Will such times ever come again?" asked Willy.

"The future, my boy, is known only to God—our duties lie in the present. May the Almighty give us grace, both now and always, to deeply prize His sacred Word, and whether in prosperity or in adversity, through good report or evil report, to hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering!"