Certes his mouth is wried and black
Full little pence be in his sack,
This devil hath him by the back
It is no boot to lie.
—SWINBURNE.
Daniel Pye on that selfsame memorable day was literally floating in a blissful atmosphere of delight.
My lord of Stowmaries had not only been arrested but he had confessed to his guilt; a matter which at first had greatly surprised Master Pye, who had been at great pains to concoct an elaborate lie, only to find through some mysterious accident of Fortune, he must have hit upon the truth.
Of course he did not realise as yet that the man who had been arrested and who had confessed was not the former suitor for Mistress Peyton's hand. He had only heard some pleasant rumours anent the reward which he would get as soon as conviction was obtained against the accused. Many spoke of fifty pounds, others that his reward would be as great as that given to Master Oates: a substantial pension and comfortable lodgings in one of the king's houses.
But the thought of Mistress Peyton's miserable condition of vain regrets and bitter disappointment the while her lover lingered in the Tower, pleased Master Pye as much as that of his own good fortune, nor could he resist the desire to brag of his prowess to those very menials who had witnessed his downfall. There would be no great pleasure in the discomfiture of Mistress Peyton, unless she knew whose was the hand that had dealt the death blow to all her cherished schemes.
Of a truth the lady was staggered when she heard of Daniel Pye's boasts. He had been sitting in the kitchen for the past hour surrounded by a crowd of gaping listeners, and enjoying one of the many fruits of notoriety. The cook had placed a large venison pasty before him, together with a tankard of ale, and lacqueys and wenches were hearing open-mouthed the account of how Master Pye had brought my lord of Stowmaries to disgrace, and that the life of more than one great nobleman lay in the palm of that same Pye's very grimy hand.
Mistress Peyton, when she heard of the man's boasts and of his popularity among her servants, had him incontinently kicked out of the house again, but not before he had told her with insolent spite that she was now paying for the injustice she had perpetrated on a faithful servant close on half a year ago.
To Daniel Pye the awakening from these pleasing dreams came all too soon. That same evening at the tavern in Whitefriars, he gathered the truth from out the conflicting rumours which he heard. It was the new Earl of Stowmaries who had taken upon himself the charge of conspiracy preferred by Master Pye, and 'twas he who had confessed his guilt. What could this mean, and what would be the consequences which would accrue to the informant, to his future reward and future safety through this unexpected turn of affairs?
Master Oates, consulted on the point, was for sticking to the lie on every point. The actual personality of the man could not matter in the least, and since this Earl of Stowmaries actually pleaded guilty to the charge, why then, all was for the best and it was not for Daniel Pye to worry about it all.
Master Tongue—more wary—feared a trap, but his objections were overruled, and on the whole the infamous fraternity decided that confrère Pye must uphold his perjuries to the end, since he would obtain the reward whoever was condemned on his information.
"You need have no fear, good Master," concluded Oates reassuringly; "you'll be believed in any event. Master Bedloe and myself never had any difficulty hitherto, even though at the Stayley trial we got in vast confusion, seeing that we made several slips which could easily have been proved against us, had the judge and jury been so minded. Nay! nay! Do you stick to your story. Since one Lord Stowmaries desires to hang instead of the other, why, let him, so say I."
This cynical speech was, alas, an only too true exposé of the situation. Daniel Pye was almost reassured, and fell to applying himself to making his story more circumstantial. On consultation with his friends it was decided that the recent murder of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey would be dragged into the indictment. That mysterious crime was indeed a trump card in the hands of the informants. It seemed a pity not to play it when the stakes were as high as they were just now.
Pye therefore prepared himself to state on oath that the murder was freely projected by my lord Stowmaries with the minister of the King of France, in the course of the treasonable interview in Paris.
But even then did the course of this true liar not run altogether smooth, for anon it became generally known that Master Legros, tailor of Paris, and his daughter who was none other than the wife of the dispossessed Lord of Stowmaries, had been compelled to give evidence for the Crown in corroboration of Master Pye's story.
Whereupon the latter fell into a state of agitation worse than before. He stared dry-lipped and wide-eyed at the man who had come in with this news. This was the first intimation which he had that one of his lies at least would find him out. When he had vowed that Master Legros had overheard the treasonable conversation between the Earl of Stowmaries and the minister of the King of France, he had no thought that the tailor would actually be compelled to give testimony, whether he would or no.
Pye turned well-nigh sick at the thought. Dotard though he was, he had no hopes that Master Legros would endorse his lies. Once more he turned to his friends for counsel, and briefly explained to them the terrible plight in which he now found himself.
"Mayhap I'd better disappear," he suggested timorously, "before I am caught for perjury. It means the loss of my right hand and years of imprisonment; mayhap in this case the rope."
"Bah, man, be not such a coward," admonished Oates boldly. He had gone through all the anxieties himself and knew how to make light of them. "'Twas a pity you did drag an alien's name into the case, of course, but—"
"'Twas the magistrate suggested it to me," broke in Pye, who was on the verge of tears; "he said that it would be better if another witness were forthcoming, who also had heard the conversation at the hostelry in Paris. It would strengthen my evidence, so he said."
"But why this French papist?" queried Bedloe with an oath.
"Because the tailor was in deadly enmity with my lord of Stowmaries—with the other one, I mean—and I thought he would help me and gladly too."
"And think you he'll turn against you?"
"I fear me that he will," quoth Pye, who truly was in a pitiable condition.
"Then, man, you must change your tactics," now said Oates decisively. "Nay! I repeat, do not be afraid. 'Tis you they will believe, and not the papist tailor or his daughter. What can they say? That they did not hear the treasonable conversation between the accused and the minister of the King of France. Well, what of that? 'Tis but a negation, and no evidence. The Attorney-General will soon upset such feeble testimony. But do you swear that on thinking the matter over you now remember that the tailor and his daughter had already left the hostelry of the 'Rat Mort' when that treasonable consult took place and that you were in my company and not in theirs. Then with one fell swoop do you destroy the whole value of the Legros' evidence, and place yourself once more in an unassailable position, for I too can swear then that I was with you at the time, and heard the whole conversation—so be that you are prepared to share the reward which you will get with me," concluded the scoundrel with earnest emphasis.
Daniel Pye had no option. Of a truth he was not quite such a hardened sinner as these professional liars who had thriven and prospered under their organized perjuries for close on half a year.
The whole of the information against Lord Stowmaries was therefore gone through all over again, nor was there any fear that this change of front would in any way prejudice the noble jury against the informant. In Coleman's case and in that of Stailey, and alas, in that of many others, the infamous witnesses contradicted themselves and one another to an extent which makes the modern historian gasp, when he has to put it on record that men in England were condemned to death wholesale, on evidence that was as flimsy as it was false.
Master Pye, once more at peace, therefore, with his prospects and with himself, learned his new lesson with diligence. But Master Oates was firm on one point, and that was on his share in the coming reward. Pye demurred for a long time. Emboldened by the encouragement of his friends, he now thought that he could carry the whole business through alone.
Ultimately it was decided that Master Oates was to receive £5 of the reward, provided he swore that on a certain day in April he too was present at the tavern of the "Rat Mort" in Paris when my lord of Stowmaries discussed with the minister of the King of France the terms of the shameful treaty whereby King Charles was to be murdered, the Duke of York be placed on the throne of England and the latter country sold to the French and to the Pope of Rome.