"Poor wretch!" exclaimed the king, shuddering, "I fear there is no way of saving him."

"None, whatever my liege," replied Rochester, "nor do I believe he would consent to it if there were. But he is again menacing your majesty."

As Rochester spoke, Solomon Eagle shook his arm menacingly at the royal party, raising it aloft, as if invoking the vengeance of Heaven. He then knelt down upon the sloping ridge of the roof, as if in prayer, and his figure, thus seen relieved against the mighty sheet of flame, might have been taken for an image of Saint John the Baptist carved in stone. Not an eye in the vast crowd below but was fixed on him. In a few moments he rose again, and tossing his arms aloft, and shrieking, in a voice distinctly heard above the awful roar around him, the single word "Resurgam!" flung himself headlong into the flaming abyss. A simultaneous cry of horror rose from the whole a.s.semblage on beholding this desperate action.

"The last exclamation of the poor wretch may apply to the cathedral, as well as to himself," remarked the monarch, to a middle-aged personage, with a pleasing and highly intellectual countenance, standing near him: "for the old building shall rise again, like a phoenix from its fires, with renewed beauty, and under your superintendence, Doctor Christopher Wren."

The great architect bowed. "I cannot hope to erect such another structure," he said, modestly; "but I will endeavour to design an edifice that shall not disgrace your majesty's city."

"You must build me another city at the same time, Doctor Wren," sighed the king. "Ah!" he added, "is not that Mr. Lilly, the almanac-maker, whom I see among the crowd?"

"It is," replied Rochester.

"Bid him come to me," replied the king. And the order being obeyed, he said to the astrologer, "Well, Mr. Lilly, your second prediction has come to pa.s.s. We have had the Plague, and now we have the Fire. You may thank my clemency that I do not order you to be cast into the flames, like the poor wretch who has just perished before our eyes, as a wizard and professor of the black art. How did you obtain information of these fatal events?"

"By a careful study of the heavenly bodies, sire," replied Lilly, "and by long and patient calculations, which, if your majesty or any of your attendants had had leisure or inclination to make, would have afforded you the same information. I make no pretence to the gift of prophecy, but this calamity was predicted in the last century."

"Indeed! by whom?" asked the king.

"By Michael Nostradamus," replied Lilly; "his prediction runs thus:-

'La sang du juste a Londres fera faute, Bruslez par feu, le vingt et trois, les Six; La Dame antique cherra de place haute, De meme secte plusieurs seront occis.'[1]

And thus I venture to explain it. The 'blood of the just' refers to the impious and execrable murder of your majesty's royal father of blessed memory. 'Three-and-twenty and six' gives the exact year of the calamity; and it may likewise give us, as will be seen by computation hereafter, the amount of habitations to be destroyed. The 'Ancient Dame' undoubtedly refers to the venerable pile now burning before us, which, as it stands in the most eminent spot in the city, clearly 'falls from its high place.' The expression 'of the same sect' refers not to men, but churches, of which a large number, I grieve to say it, are already destroyed."

[Footnote 1:

'The blood of the just shall be wanting in London, Burnt by fire of three-and-twenty, the Six; The ancient Dame shall fall from her high place, Of the same sect many shall be killed.']

"The prophecy is a singular one," remarked Charles, musingly "and you have given it a plausible interpretation." And for some moments he appeared lost in reflection. Suddenly rousing himself, he took forth his tablets, and hastily tracing a few lines upon a leaf, tore it out, and delivered it with his signet-ring to Lord Argentine. "Take this, my lord," he said, "to Lord Craven. You will find him at his post in Tower-street. A band of my attendants shall go with you. Embark at the nearest stairs you can-those at Blackfriars I should conceive the most accessible. Bid the men row for their lives. As soon as you join Lord Craven, commence operations. The Tower must be preserved at all hazards. Mark me!-at all hazards."

"I understand your majesty," replied Argentine-"your commands shall be implicitly obeyed. And if the conflagration has not gone too far, I will answer with my life that I preserve the fortress." And he departed on his mission.

IX.

WHAT BEFEL CHOWLES AND JUDITH IN THE VAULTS OF SAINT FAITH'S.

Having now seen what occurred outside Saint Paul's, we shall proceed to the vaults beneath it. Chowles and Judith, it has been mentioned, were descried by Leonard, just before the outbreak of the fire, stealing into Saint Faith's, and carrying a heavy chest between them. This chest contained some of the altar-plate, which they had pillaged from the Convocation House. As they traversed the aisles of Saint Faith's, which were now filled with books and paper, they could distinctly hear the raging of the fire without, and Judith, who was far less intimidated than her companion, observed, "Let it roar on. It cannot injure us."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Chowles, doubtfully, "I wish we had taken our h.o.a.rds elsewhere."

"There is no use in wishing that now," rejoined Judith. "And it would have been wholly impossible to get them out of the city. But have no fear. The fire, I tell you, cannot reach us. It could as soon burn into the solid earth as into this place."

"It comforts me to hear you say so," replied Chowles. "And when I think of those mighty stone floors above us, I feel we are quite safe. No, no, it can never make its way through them."

Thus discoursing, they reached the charnel at the further end of the church, where Chowles struck a light, and producing a flask of strong waters, took a copious draught himself and handed the flask to Judith, who imitated his example. Their courage being thus stimulated, they opened the chest, and Chowles was so enraptured with its glittering contents that he commenced capering round the vault. Recalled to quietude by a stern reproof from Judith, he opened a secret door in the wall, and pushed the chest into a narrow pa.s.sage beyond it. Fearful of being discovered in their retreat, they took a basket of provisions and liquor with them, and then closed the door. For some time, they proceeded along the pa.s.sage, pushing the chest before them, until they came to a descent of a few steps, which brought them to a large vault, half-filled with bags of gold, chests of plate, caskets, and other plunder. At the further end of this vault was a strong wooden door. Pushing the chest into the middle of the chamber, Chowles seated himself upon it, and opening the basket of provisions, took out the bottle of spirits, and again had recourse to it.

"How comfortable and secure we feel in this quiet place," he said; "while all above us is burning. I declare I feel quite merry, ha! ha!" And he forced a harsh and discordant laugh.

"Give me the bottle," rejoined Judith, sternly, "and don't grin like a death's head. I don't like to see the frightful face you make."

"It's the first time you ever thought my face frightful," replied Chowles, "and I begin to think you are afraid."

"Afraid!" echoed Judith, forcing a derisive laugh in her turn; "afraid-of what?"

"Nay, I don't know," replied Chowles; "only I feel a little uncomfortable. What if we should not be able to breathe here? The very idea gives me a tightness across the chest."

"Silence!" cried Judith, with a fierceness that effectually insured obedience to her command.

Chowles again had recourse to the bottle, and deriving a false courage from it, as before, commenced skipping about the chamber in his usual fantastical manner. Judith, did not attempt to check him, but remained with her chin resting upon her hand gazing at him.

"Do you remember the Dance of Death, Judith?" he cried, executing some of the wildest flourishes he had then performed, "and how I surprised the Earl of Rochester and his crew?"

"I do," replied Judith, sternly, "and I hope we may not soon have to perform that dance together in reality."

"It was a merry night," rejoined Chowles, who did not hear what she said, "a right merry night-and so to-night shall be, in spite of what is occurring overhead. Ha! ha!" And he took another long pull at the flask. "I breathe freely now." And he continued his wild flourishes until he was completely exhausted. He then sat down by Judith, and would have twined his bony arms round her neck, but she roughly repulsed him.

With a growl of displeasure, he then proceeded to open and examine the various bags, chests, and caskets piled upon the floor, and the sight of their contents so excited Judith, that shaking off her misgivings, she joined him, and they continued opening case after case, glutting their greedy eyes, until Chowles became aware that the vault was filled with smoke. As soon as he perceived this, he started to his feet in terror.

"We are lost-we shall be suffocated!" he cried! Judith likewise arose, and her looks showed that she shared in his apprehensions.

"We must not stay here," cried Chowles; "and yet," he added, with an agonised look at the rich store before him, "the treasure! the treasure!"

"Ay, let us, at least, take something with us," rejoined Judith, s.n.a.t.c.hing up two or three of the most valuable caskets.

While Chowles gazed at the heap before him, hesitating what to select, the smoke grew so dense around them, that Judith seized his arm, and dragged him away. "I come-I come!" he cried, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a bag of gold.

They then threaded the narrow pa.s.sage, Judith leading the way and bearing the light. The smoke grew thicker and thicker as they advanced; but regardless of this, they hurried to the secret door leading to the charnel. Judith touched the spring, but as she did so, a sheet of flame burst in and drove her back. Chowles dashed pa.s.sed her, and with great presence of mind shut the door, excluding the flame. They then hastily retraced their steps, feeling that not a moment was to be lost if they would escape. The air in the vault, thickened by the smoke, had become so hot that they could scarcely breathe; added to which, to increase their terror, they heard the most awful cracking of the walls overhead, as if the whole fabric were breaking asunder to its foundation.

"The cathedral is tumbling upon us! We shall be buried alive!" exclaimed Chowles, as he listened with indescribable terror to the noise overhead!

"I owe my death to you, wretch!" cried Judith, fiercely. "You persuaded me to come hither."

"I!" cried Chowles. "It is a lie! You were the person who proposed it. But for you I should have left our h.o.a.rds here, and come for them after the fire was over."

"It is you who lie!" returned Judith, with increased fury, "that was my proposal."

"Hold your tongue, you she-devil," cried Chowles, "it is you who have brought me into this strait-and if you do not cease taunting me, I will silence you for ever."

"Coward and fool!" cried Judith, "I will at least have the satisfaction of seeing you die before me."

And as she spoke, she rushed towards him, and a desperate struggle commenced. And thus while the walls were cracking overhead, threatening them with instant destruction, the two wretches continued their strife, uttering the most horrible blasphemies and execrations. Judith, being the stronger of the two, had the advantage, and she had seized her opponent by the throat with the intention of strangling him, when a most terrific crash was heard causing her to loose her gripe. The air instantly became as hot as the breath of a furnace, and both started to their feet. "What has happened?" gasped Chowles.

"I know not," replied Judith, "and I dare not look down the pa.s.sage."

"Then I will," replied Chowles, and he advanced a few paces up it, and then hastily returned, shrieking, "it is filled with boiling lead, and the stream is flowing towards us."

Scarcely able to credit the extent of the danger, Judith gazed down the pa.s.sage, and there beheld a glowing silvery stream trickling slowly onwards. She saw too well, that if they could not effect their retreat instantly, their fate was sealed.

"The door of the vault!" she cried, pointing towards it, "where is the key? where is the key?"

"I have not got it," replied Chowles, distractedly, "I cannot tell where to find it."