Lamentation

‘The room had a table, chairs and a bed with a fine cover, as well as a chest. I recognized Anne Askew at once, for I had twice seen her preach in the streets, but now she sat awkwardly in a heap on the floor, her back against the wall and her legs spread out on the stone flags. It looked almost indecent.’ Myldmore flushed, and I thought how young he was, how oddly innocent to be serving in that den of wolves.

‘I noticed her dress was torn. She had cast off her coif and her fair hair hung down in rats-tails, bathed in sweat. Her face — a pretty face — was composed, but her eyes were staring, wide.’ He shook his head, as though to try and clear it of that terrible image. ‘Despite all this, when she spoke to me it was in pleasant, gentle tones. She asked, “Would you put the tray on the floor, please, goodman gaoler. I cannot rise.”

‘I know what racking does to people. God forgive me, I have seen it, the prisoner stretched out, arms above his head, fixed to the moving table with ropes tied to his wrists and ankles, and then the ropes wound so that the muscles and joints tear; and it came to me in a rush of horror that those men — Privy Councillors — had just racked this woman. I laid the plate and spoon on the floor beside her. She bent forward to pick the spoon up but gave a little cry of pain and leaned back, breathing hard.’ Myldmore looked up at me, swallowing. ‘In a man, it would have been bad enough. But to see a woman in that state — ’ He shook his head. ‘I think my expression must have betrayed me. She asked if I knew who she was. I answered, “Yes, Madam, I have seen you preach.” Then I said, “What have they done to you?”

‘She smiled in answer. “His majesty’s noble councillors would have the Queen down, and her ladies and their husbands. They asked me what dealings I had had with them, the Countess of Hertford, Lady Denny, the Duchess of Suffolk. They wanted me to say they were all heretics who denied the Mass. But I said, truly, that I have never met any of them. So they racked me to get the answers they wanted. Sir Anthony Knevet refused to do it, so Rich and Wriothesley turned the rack.” Her eyes seemed to burn into mine as she said, “I do not care who knows; I want the story spread abroad.”’

Myldmore swallowed, looked at me. ‘I was frightened, sir, I did not want to know this. But Mistress Askew continued, shifting her position as spasms of pain went through her. She said, “It was great agony, and there will be more when they burn me. But I know that this is all but a prelude to the bliss to come.” And then she smiled again.’ The young gaoler shook his head in wonder.

‘I asked Mistress Askew, “Do you believe, then, that you are saved?” And she answered, “Truly, I believe I have God’s grace in my heart.” Her eyes were blue, bright as though from an inner light. It moved me to the heart, sir.’ Myldmore’s face worked a moment before he continued: ‘I knelt before her and said, “You have endured, as Christ did. I wish I had your courage and certainty.”’ His eyes were wet now. ‘And then she asked me to say the twenty-third Psalm with her. I did.’ Myldmore whispered, softly, ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. .’ Then, as she could not feed herself, she asked me to spoon the broth into her mouth. She could scarce move without terrible pain.’ He paused, then added quietly, ‘I heard she was most brave at the end.’

‘She was,’ I answered. ‘I was there.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘You were one of the godly folk who went to comfort her.’

I did not contradict him. Myldmore took a deep breath. ‘I left after feeding her. Howitson told me that the next day she was be removed from the Tower to a house — I do not know whose — where she would be lodged to recover. He reminded me to keep my mouth shut. They hoped she would recover sufficiently to walk to the fire. I was angry, sir, more than ever before in my life.’

‘Was it you who set the news afoot she had been tortured?’

‘Yes.’ He clenched his jaw with a new stubbornness. ‘And they know it was. I was in such a fume of anger at what had been done, I told my landlady that same evening that Anne Askew had been tortured in the Tower. But I did not have the courage to name Wriothesley and Rich. My landlady is a good reformer, and also a great gossip. I wanted her to tell others. For that one evening, I did not think of my own safety. Next day it was the talk of the streets.’ He said, sorrowfully, ‘I confess when I heard the story jangled about everywhere, I began to be afraid again.’