HOW DERRICK CARVER WAS PLACED IN A VAULT BENEATH
THE STAR INN AT LEWES.
At the period of our history, Lewes, as we have just intimated, was surrounded by walls built of stone, and of considerable strength, though few traces of these fortifications are now left. At the west gate of the town the party was met by the high sheriff, Sir Richard de Warren, and Master Piddinghoe, the headborough, attended by a large posse of men armed with halberds. Besides these, there were many burgesses and priests, who had come forth to see the prisoner. At this place Derrick Carver was delivered over to the high sheriff by Captain Brand, who at the same time handed to Sir Richard the warrant for the prisoner’s execution.
“All shall be ready for the ceremonial to-morrow morning,” said De Warren. “We cannot lodge him in the castle, but we will place him in a vault beneath the Star Inn, where he will be perfectly secure.”
“I have fulfilled mine office in delivering him into your hands, Sir Richard,” replied Brand. “But my orders from Sheriff Woodrooffe are to tarry here till the sentence is carried out.”
“You will not be detained beyond to-morrow morning, Sir,” said De Warren.
On this the party passed through the gate, and began to move slowly down the High Street, which formed a gradual descent towards the centre of the town. On either side the 340street were habitations of various sizes, but all of quaint and picturesque architecture. As the train advanced, the inhabitants came forth to see the prisoner, to many of whom he was personally known, and these loudly expressed their commiseration, and their abhorrence of his persecutors.
By the time the train had reached the massive Norman gate of the castle, so large a crowd had collected that the progress of the party was impeded, and the high sheriff’s attendants had to use the poles of their halberds to effect a passage. In spite, however, of the exertions of the officers and men, the throng could not be kept back, but forced themselves up to the prisoner, and catching hold of his garments, and clinging to his horse, besought his blessing.
“Stand back!—touch him not!” cried Father Josfrid. “He is excommunicated.”
Little attention however, was paid to the priest. In vain Carver besought those nearest him to retire—in vain the officers commanded them to stand back—they would not stir. At last, force was employed, they were thrust violently aside, and amid shrieks of terror and groans and yells of indignation, Carver was hurried along, and finally conveyed through a gateway into a large yard at the rear of the Star Inn. As soon as this had been accomplished the gate was shut, and a guard placed in front of it.
This ancient hostel, which still exists, though it has undergone many transformations, was then a large and substantial structure, capable of accommodating a great number of guests, and was managed by Dame Dunster, a buxom widow, whose boast it was that the best mutton in Sussex, the fattest capons, the most perfectly seasoned venison pasties, the most delicious stewed eels, and the brightest sack and claret, were to be had at the Star at Lewes. Besides these good things, and many others, those who lodged with Dame Dunster had the luxury of linen white as snow, and fragrant of lavender. Nothing, in short, was wanting at the Star—a comely and good-humoured landlady, young and not ill-favoured handmaidens, and active drawers—these for the guests, while for their steeds there were good stables and good provender.
Beneath the hostel there existed, and indeed still exists, a large vault, wherein, as the high sheriff had intimated to Captain Brand, it was intended to place Derrick Carver for 341the night. The subterranean chamber was of great strength, the roof high and arched, and the walls of solid stone. It was of great antiquity, and had originally belonged to a monastic edifice. On one side, at a considerable height from the ground, was an unglazed window or aperture, contrived for the admission of air and light. This aperture was placed on a level with the street, and was secured by stout iron bars, fixed horizontally and close together. This singular vault is still much in the same state as we have described it, though it is now used for other purposes than as a place of detention of prisoners, being, in fact, a very cool and commodious cellar.
When Derrick Carver was taken into the inn-yard, as already related, he became so faint that he was obliged to sit down on a horse-block for a few minutes to recover himself. Noticing his feeble condition, Dame Dunster who had come forth to look at him, kindly sent for a cup of sack, and offered it to him. But Father Josfrid again interposed, and bade her take the wine away, if she would not fall under the same ban as the miserable wretch before her. But the kind-hearted hostess persisted, whereupon the priest snatched the cup from her, and dashed its contents on the ground.
“You must have a heart utterly void of compassion, or you could not act thus,” cried Dame Dunster to Father Josfrid. “You would see the poor man die, and not raise a hand to help him. It would be happy for him, indeed, if he were to die, as in that case he would escape further cruelty.”
“I am better now,” replied Derrick Carver, raising himself to his feet by a great effort. “I lack not the wine you would have given me to drink, but I thank you heartily for the kind intent, and invoke Heaven’s blessings upon your house.”
“Thy blessings will prove curses, thou outcast from Heaven,” cried the priest.
“Be not troubled by his words, good sister,” said Carver. “Be mindful of what I say to you. Avoid idolatry and superstition. Place your faith in the Gospel, and you shall live. Pray for me, sister, and I will pray for you.”
Dame Dunster and her maidens turned away weeping, while Carver descended a flight of stone steps leading to the 342vault, the door of which being unlocked he was rudely thrust into the subterranean chamber. A few trusses of straw for a couch, with bread-and-water for sustenance, being supplied him, he was left alone, and the door locked outside.
After glancing round the vault, noting its size, and the solidity of its walls, Carver turned his attention to the barred opening, already described as being on a level with the street. Through this opening noises reached his ears, but no one was allowed to approach and hold converse with him, a guard being placed outside the inn.
Carver took a few turns in the vault, and then sitting down upon a wooden bench, which constituted its sole furniture, took out his Bible, which had been happily spared him, and began to read it. He had been occupied in this manner for some time, when the strokes of a pickaxe dealt upon the stones in the street disturbed him, and he raised his head to listen. By-and-by the clatter of a shovel was heard—then there was a great noise as if several men were carrying a heavy mass, which appeared to be plunged into a hole that had just been digged; and then there was a dull, dead, thumping sound, as if the earth were being beaten down by a ram.
Suspecting what was going forward, but desiring to know the truth, Carver placed the bench immediately below the window, and, mounting upon it, raised himself so that he could just look through the bars into the street. He then found that his conjectures were correct, and that the noises he had heard were caused by men who were planting the stake in the ground to which he was to be attached on the morrow. With a mournful curiosity he watched them at their work, and did not withdraw till the stake was firmly secured, and a heavy iron chain attached to it. He had just got down, when he heard Captain Brand, whose harsh voice he instantly recognised, giving directions to the men.
“Take care that plenty of fagots are provided,” he said; “and, furthermore, I must have an empty tar-barrel large enough to hold the prisoner. He boasts of his firmness,” added Brand with a bitter laugh. “We will see whether we cannot shake it.”
It would seem that he was likely to be disappointed in his exp............