Honor in the Dust (31 page)

The day of the trial had come, and Stuart was allowed to dress himself in fresh clothes. “You can't go before the judge looking like a scarecrow,” the chief guard, Gatlin, said. He studied Winslow carefully. “Are you afraid?”

“Not anymore.”

“How can you not be afraid? Every man fears death.”

“Jan Dekker wasn't afraid.”

“No, he wasn't. I'll give you that. He went to his death with a smile on his lips, and the last words he said were, ‘Glory to Jesus.' I'll never forget it.”

“I hope you'll let that be your cry, Mr. Gatlin. Glory to Jesus. That's going to be mine.”

The two guards took him into a large room. There were three judges and a handful of spectators. His eyes swept the courtroom, and he saw Sir Thomas More sitting at a table. More motioned him over, and he went and sat down beside him.

More smiled. “Are you afraid, my boy?”

“No, not now.”

“How is it you're not afraid?”

“I called upon the Lord, and I'm putting my faith and my trust in him. Live or die, I'm God's man.”

“Good man! Good man!”

Almost immediately the trial began. The prosecutor, tall and gaunt, with the strange name of Friday, was a savage man. At the judge's instruction he marshaled the evidence. He stood before the judge and said, “This man was part of the gang that held up a royal messenger. There's no question about that.” Then he called witnesses, all of them men that had come upon Winslow as he stood over the bleeding body. “They'll all testify to that.”

The lawyer sat down, and the judge said, “What do you have to say, Sir Thomas?”

Sir Thomas rose. He was calm, the calmest man in the room, perhaps. He looked at the judge and smiled benevolently. “I have only one witness, sir.”

“Only one?”

“Yes. Bring in Peter Morton.”

Peter Morton was brought in and, after Morton took the oath, More asked, “Did Stuart Winslow murder the king's messenger?”

“No, sir. I did.”

“You confess to the crime of murder? You know you can be executed for such a crime.”

“I've already confessed to another murder, for which I am sentenced to die. What possible use would it be for me to lie about this? Stuart Winslow was the one innocent man among us. He had no idea at all, sir, that there would be even a robbery.”

“And that is the final fact I wish to note,” Sir Thomas said. “Stuart Winslow is charged with armed robbery and murder, and yet not one of the king's gold sovereigns was found upon him. Am I right?”

No one answered him. He looked to the leader of the palace guard, sitting in the front row of the gallery. The man shifted, uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

“Of course, I'm right,” Sir Thomas said at last. “Because the messenger's parcel and the king's gold was where, Morton?”

“With me,” he said. “I took it and split it with the others.”

“And left this man to take your punishment.”

Morton eyed Stuart. “I'm sorry, Winslow.” He looked at the judge. “It is the truth of it. I am the one you seek, not him.”

Sir Thomas More turned to the three judges and spoke to the chief justice. “Sir, I move that the prisoner be dismissed and the charges against him dropped. You heard the witness.”

The judge leaned forward and whispered to the man on his left, then to the judge on his right. They both nodded, and the judge said, “Your request is granted, Sir Thomas. The court finds Stuart Winslow innocent of any wrongdoing.”

At that, the crowd cried out, some in outrage, some in relief. Stuart's parents came forward, crying out his name. The three embraced.

Heather was there, and after his parents had embraced him, she came and held out her hands. He took them. Her eyes were filled with tears. “You're free, Stuart.”

“Yes, I'm free, but I'm not free at the same time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to find William Tyndale. God has told me I'm to serve him. I am going to help him in his task of getting the Bible to every plowboy in England!”

After Stuart's release, he went at once to Stoneybrook, for going to live at court was not what he wanted. He was making plans to find Tyndale.

He spent much time with his parents but made frequent trips to Richmond Palace to visit the queen and Princess Mary. The pope had refused to allow Henry to divorce Catherine; Henry was still determined to divorce her. But only his queen's heavy heart bothered Stuart.

On one of his visits to the queen and Princess Mary, the queen opened her heart as she never had before. They were walking along one of the paths in the garden, the queen showing Stuart the beautiful roses, when suddenly she said, “You never mention my situation to me, Master Winslow.”

“Why—why, no, Your Majesty. It's not my place.”

“Everyone in England knows about it. I have no secrets.” Bitterness scored the lines of her mouth. She stared down at the ground, and when she lifted her eyes, Stuart saw the pain and grief that marked her face. “I was a foreign princess brought here to produce sons. It's clear now to all that I will never succeed in bearing a son. After that is out in the open, what else is left to hide?”

The two continued their walk. Stuart was extremely uncomfortable.
He had never seen Catherine in this mood before. He wanted to comfort her but did not know how. After a long pause, he said, “I am sorry for your situation, Your Majesty, but how can Henry do this? The church clearly forbids divorce.”

“He's already informed me of how it will be,” she said. “He says that we have never been married at all.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

“I was first married to his brother Arthur, and Henry claims the Bible says that my second marriage to him is incest. The priest gave him a text found in the book of Leviticus to prove this. What foolishness! Even if it were so, it would not apply, because my marriage to Arthur was never consummated.” Tears came to her eyes then. “Think of it, Stuart. Almost twenty years of being a faithful wife, and he says we are not married at all! I must go now. Forgive me—” She turned and walked away, and Stuart's heart went with her as she disappeared into the palace. But Henry was determined, and Stuart was struck by the same feeling, watching the queen disappear, as he was when Jan Dekker left his sight for the last time.

On one of his rare visits home to Stoneybrook, Stuart spoke with his father about Tyndale and his fierce determination to follow God's call. “I don't see why there's a problem, Father. I mean, after all, Henry has authorized the use of Bibles in English in the churches even though there are none in print.”

“That was last year. This is now. His mind has been changed, and who knows why Henry does anything?”

“But it's foolishness! Doesn't he realize that there's a need in the churches to hear the Bible read in English? Hasn't he seen the people's enthusiasm?”

Claiborn shook his head sadly and ran his hand through his hair. “You're far closer to the king than I. If you do not know the cause of his reversal, I am that much more befuddled.”

“Where is Mr. Tyndale now, sir?”

“Oh, he's in Marburg, a hundred miles north of Frankfurt and well off the beaten path of government agents.”

“The king has sent agents looking for him?”

“Oh, yes. He has even offered him amnesty and a place in the government.”

“That's hard to believe.”

“Well, Tyndale doesn't believe it. He's found a printer there and he's turning out Bibles as fast as he can.”

“He's selling them?”

“He doesn't make a penny from any of his work. He could probably have been a rich man if he had sold them, because there's a hunger in the hearts of many for the Word of God, but he refuses to make any profit from serving God.”

The two men sat talking about Tyndale for some time. Claiborn smiled. “Do you know what part of the scripture he's working on now? The Old Testament.”

“I wasn't aware that he knew Hebrew.”

“He doesn't, and that's the miracle, Son. He doesn't have any opportunity to learn it here in his homeland.” Jews had been banished from England since the reign of Edward I, and those who remained often hid their heritage for fear of being banished—or worse. “So he found an old Hebrew grammar and began the study of the language on his own. But it's hard, Stuart. He's in exile, living from hand to mouth, with the constant threat of arrest, and there he is learning Hebrew, translating and revising the New Testament, completing the first of the five books of the Old Testament. I don't understand how one head can hold so much.”

“Neither do I, nor how one man can bear to defy the king. You well know that the king will take his head if he can find him.”

“He knows that, I'm sure, but he just doesn't think about things like that the way most men do.”

Stuart said in a voice of wonder, “He is a man to admire.”

“Indeed he is. There's not another like him in all England. He will have the Bible to put before the peasants and potentates of England or he will die in the attempt.”

Stuart had made up his mind to go to William Tyndale. He knew he had made a vow to God when God had delivered him from death, and part of that vow, at least, was to serve under William Tyndale's direction. He had no idea what he would do or even if he could find the man, for the secret agents of King Henry had not been able to find him.

He had prepared himself to go in search, but he wanted to make one more visit to court. He asked for an audience with Catherine and as usual she was glad to see him. When he told her of his plan to be gone for some time, her face fell. “Why are you leaving us, Master Winslow?”

“I must see to some private business, Your Majesty.” He saw that the queen was depressed. “Try to keep your spirits up.”

“I will never have a life. It's all over. My hopes are for Mary.”

“She's a fine girl. Bright, smart, pretty. You can well be proud of her.”

“I wish her father were as proud.” The words were bitter, but at once she passed her hand in front of her face as if brushing away a thought. “Hurry back to us, Master Winslow.”

“I will try, Your Majesty. Good-bye now.”

“Thank you for your many kindnesses to me and to Mary. Be a friend to her if you can. When I am gone, she will need all the friends she can get.”

“You may count on it. I will do my best to help her in every way I can.”

Stuart ignored the giggling ladies-in-waiting, who stared at him with seductive eyes and boldly looked him over. Their attention sickened him, reminding him of Anne Boleyn and all that was wrong with the court. Nell was long since gone, off to marry an
ancient French nobleman with plenty of money. But as one woman disappeared, another took her place, always with the same intentions, always on the same downward spiral. His grandmother was right. The court was an evil and dangerous place. He went down a flight of stairs in the gardens, eager to have the maids out of his sight. He thought of his new life, serving under William Tyndale. He would go and find Tyndale, and he would serve God by serving him.