But these sermons were destined to come to a sudden and untimely end. Father Michael was one day describing “the new preachers.” He had just told his congregation that the priests and monks were mediators between God and man, and “friends of the saints, who cure all diseases. Those therefore, “he said, “who listen to them can want for nothing. But as for the new preachers, who throw down crosses and images, they are the enemies of Christ—they are priests and monks who have broken their vows in order to marry wives, and to live in vice and crime.”
“You lie! you lie!” said a loud voice amongst the crowd.
All turned to the spot whence the voice proceeded, and there, standing up with a face of indignation, was Christopher Holard. In one moment the whole church was in a tumult. There was a general rush made upon Christopher. The foremost in the attack were the women. They were headed by the chief lady of the place, the Lady Elizabeth Arnex.
“All,” says the Chronicle, “fell with one accord upon the said Christopher. They tore out his beard and beat him; they scratched him with their nails and otherwise, so that if they had been let alone, he would never have gone out of the said church alive, which would have been a great benefit for the poor Catholics.”
The governor of Orbe, however, hearing the tumult, came to the rescue; he rushed amongst the shrieking women, seized Master Christopher, and locked him up in the dungeon of the castle.
There was one woman who was filled with grief at all that had happened: this was Christopher’s old mother. She knew of only one friend to whom she could go for sympathy and help: this was Mark Romain the schoolmaster. She entreated Mark to go with her to the Castle of Echallens, some miles off. The bailiff of Berne lived there. She believed that he might be able and willing to rescue her son from the hands of the papists.
Mark was ready to go at once, and with trembling hearts, the two friends presented themselves at the Castle of Echallens. The bailiff listened kindly to their sad tale.
“It is the friar who is to be blamed, not your son, my good woman,” he said. “Berne will not suffer such preaching as that.” The bailiff went immediately to Orbe. He sat down in the open air near the castle, and desired his officers to fetch the friar; but the friar was not to be found. The bailiff waited patiently whilst the officers went from house to house.
The friar meanwhile was safely hid in the house of a certain “Frances Pugin, instructress of girls in all virtue and learning”; but, when he heard the officers were coming, he thought it best to take the bull by the horns. He ran out of the house, and went in a respectful manner to the bailiff, who was still sitting near the castle. The bailiff rose up instantly, seized him by the arm, and said, “I arrest you in the name of my lords of Berne.” He then led him into the castle, commanded Christopher’s dungeon to be unlocked, called Christopher out, and locked up Father Michael in his place.
The good schoolmaster watched these proceedings with joy and triumph. “He was as pleased,” it is said, “as if he had gained a thousand crowns.” The bailiff said he himself would take Christopher home to his mother.
Meanwhile the news of Father Michael’s imprisonment had spread through the town. A mob collected in the marketplace.
“If we can catch Mark Romain,” they said, “he shall be thrown into the river, for it was he who fetched the bailiff.” Poor Mark came in sight at this moment. He saw his danger, and fled, with the mob in pursuit. They were now gaining fast upon him—he had just reached the front of the church—seeing the door open, he rushed in.
But it was at a fatal moment—five o’clock in the afternoon, when prayers, were daily offered up to Mary. Lady Elizabeth, and many of the women of Orbe were kneeling before the altar of “the Queen of heaven.” When Mark Romain suddenly appeared amongst them, they sprang from their knees, flew at him, threw him down, beat him and scratched him.
“I saw the whole affair,” says a papist who was present; “I did not think the schoolmaster would ever have got out alive.” But at this moment “a Lutheran friend” came in, and dragged Mark from the midst of his enraged enemies.
The women, Lady Elizabeth at their head, now ran into the streets to implore the bailiff to release the friar. A mob had already gathered round the castle, and in the midst stood the bailiff, Christopher by his side.
Loud and angry voices were heard in every direction. “Why have you locked up Father Michael? Why have you let Christopher out of prison?” they asked.
“By order of my lords of Berne,” said the bailiff; and then, pointing to the thick walls of the castle, he added, “If you can get him out, you may, but I advise you not to try.”
As the bailiff proceeded to the square, turning a deaf ear to threats and entreaties, he met the troop of ladies. They all fell on their knees “with many tears,” and implored “mercy for the good father.” The bailiff was touched by their grief, but he said Father Michael was the prisoner of Berne, and he had no power to release him. He saw Christopher safely home, and returned to Echallens.
The priests of Orbe met together to consult. They resolved to send to Friburg for help. I told you that the town of Orbe was the property of both Friburg and Berne. The lords of Friburg could do nothing without the consent of Berne. They therefore sent messengers to Berne to ask for advice, in consequence of which a number of officers of both cities were sent together to settle the matter at Orbe, when they had inquired into both sides of the question.
As the officers proceeded on their way to Orbe, they passed through the village of Avenches. There, to the joy of the Bernese, they found William Farel, who had been preaching there for the past month. They entreated him to come with them to Orbe. They reached Orbe the day before Palm Sunday.
Quickly the news spread through the little town that the heretic who had preached on the fountain was again amongst them.
But Sunday morning passed quietly, and Sunday afternoon. All the services had been said and sung, excepting only vespers. The people were filling the church for this last service, “when” we are told, “Farel, leaving his inn with presumptuous boldness, went into the pulpit without asking the leave of anyone, and began to preach.”
At once the whole crowd began to hiss, to howl, to stamp, and to shriek. “You dog! you devil! you heretic!” sounded from every side.
“It was a glorious noise,” said a Catholic who was present. Farel was used to noise. He preached on till they rushed up the pulpit stairs and dragged him down. The governor, afraid of the consequences if he allowed him to be killed, seized him by the arm, and led him back to his inn. Thus ended his first sermon. But the next morning at six o’clock Farel was preaching again in the great square.
The people of Orbe tried another plan this time. Instead of attacking him they left him perfectly alone. Lady Elizabeth then called together at her house “the devout women” of Orbe. She made them a speech, telling them that even women were called to defend holy mother church. They would be rendering a service to all good Catholics by killing Farel. He was to be present, as they all knew, at the town council that afternoon. They would waylay him as he came out, set upon him, and kill him. They knew he could not reach his inn without passing a certain street. They all agreed to meet there in full force. At the time they expected, Farel appeared. Lady Elizabeth rushed forward, and with her friends’ assistance, dragged him to the ground. But a friend of Farel’s, suspecting mischief, had followed him from the council. He arrived at this moment, seized Farel, and dragged him away, after bowing politely to the ladies, to whom he said: “I beg your pardon, ladies, this gentleman is under my charge.” He then took Farel to his inn, and placed him in the safe-keeping of the Bernese officers.