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Chapter II. THE TRIAL

The room suddenly grew dim and silent again, and I began to think that after all I had been only dreaming. But when I lifted my head and looked round, the place of the kings was empty. There was William the Conqueror’s footstool where he had upset it; and there lay the pen and ink on the floor under King John’s chair. As for the big group in the middle, not a soul was left there except Chaucer and William Caxton, who had taken possession of the two easiest chairs, and were deep in a game of chess.

As I picked myself slowly up off the floor, I became aware of the gleam of a lantern approaching me, and heard a footstep coming down the hall. It was too dark to see who it was till he was close up; then, with a gasp, I recognised Marwood, the hangman!

“Oh,” said he pleasantly, “you’re the young party, are you? Come, cheer up. You’ve got to be tried first. The fact is, they couldn’t find the regular police, and asked me to step up for you. Come, my lad,” said he, proceeding to pinion me with the cord in his hand, “this will brace you up wonderfully. You may depend on me to do the job neatly. I’ve just invented a new noose, and have been wanting a light weight to try it on, so you’re in luck. Come along, and don’t keep them waiting.”

And he proceeded to conduct me to the Chamber of Horrors. As we passed along the hall, one or two of the figures nodded to us; and Oliver Cromwell requested in Marwood to let him know when his part of the business was going to begin, as he should like to be present.

“I don’t care about the trial, you know,” said he. “Seen plenty of that sort of thing. But I’d like to see how you do your job, you know; so don’t forget.” And he slipped a shilling into Marwood’s hand.

“You’ve no idea of the civility I receive from some of these gentlemen,” said the latter to me with emotion. “Little drops of kindness like this always touch me. You shall have a little drop too, my boy, presently.”

I tried feebly to laugh at the joke; but I couldn’t, whereupon he got very sulky, and bundled me down the stairs without another word.

By the dim light of a few candles placed about the room I could see that the Chamber of Horrors was packed by a dense crowd of sightseers, who occupied seats on the floor of the court, and sat impatiently whispering together, expecting my arrival.

As I stumbled up the steps of the Old Bailey dock (where room had been made for me between Burke and Hare) the usual thrill of sensation passed round the court. I could see Henry the Eighth and his wives opposite me in the small dock, while the other crowned heads jostled one another on the platform of the guillotine. There, too, was the old hermit peeping out through the bars of his cage, and the warder in charge of the condemned cell was sweeping his place out and changing the sheets on the bed.

“Now then,” said Henry the Eighth, when all the bustle had subsided, “wire in, somebody! Let’s begin.”

“You’d better get a jury first,” said King John. “That’s one of the first things I insist upon in Magna Charta.”

“Order in the court!” cried Henry, “and Magna Charta be bothered! I shall do as I like!”

“Do have a jury, love,” said Catherine Parr; “it’s such fun when they come in with their verdict!”

“Oh, all right; have it your own way. I should have thought, though, I could come in with a verdict as well as they. Now then, you there!” said he, addressing the convicts round me, “answer to your names.”