by Dale W Decker
“Bring forth the accused.”
Procurer-General Dufief nodded to his men. The heavy tread of booted feet resounded through Castle Vilvorde’s stone halls. The door wardens soon returned with their charge. Priestly vestments hung from his sparse frame. His spindly shanks were wrapped in thick leggings despite the full bloom of summer. Four hundred and fifty days of Vilvorde’s inner sanctum now left him less restrained and more supported by his burly guards. They brought him before the assembled commissioners.
The group sat arrayed according to their respective functions. The lawyers were to one side, the honorable Godfrey de Mayers thumbing through loose pages of notes, letters, and odd tidbits of Tyndale’s work translated into Latin by the Procurer-General. He conversed in guarded tones with the three other privy-counselors, stabbing the parchments before him with a smudged finger. At the other end of the carved oak table Pierre Dufief, the emperor’s attorney and Tyndale’s inquisitor, perched on his chair like some thuggish gargoyle. His secretary, de Caverschoen, loomed at his shoulder, a dark-robed vulture waiting for his next meal to expire. Tyndale’s confiscated goods would add to the 128 pounds Dufief had received as recompense for his work during the trial.
James Mason, otherwise known as Latomus, shifted in his seat at the center of the table. He smoothed the parchments in front of him, reciting Psalm 36 to himself. He often did so. “The transgression of the wicked saith within my heart, that there is no fear of God before his eyes. For he flattereth himself in his own eyes, until his iniquity be found to be hateful. The words of his mouth are iniquity and deceit: he hath left off to be wise, and to do good. He deviseth mischief upon his bed; he setteth himself in a way that is not good; he abhorreth not evil.” Latomus knew evil, and he abhorred it.
He pulled a well-worn sheaf of parchment from the stack. His bold scrawl marched across the top of the page, accusations ferreted out from Tyndale’s “A Pathway into the Holy Scripture”. He loosely mouthed the words as he read, like foul morsels he was loathe to swallow. “I do marvel greatly, dearly beloved in Christ, that ever any man should repugn or speak against the scripture to be had in every language, and that of every man. For I thought that no man had been so blind to ask why light should be shown to them that walk in darkness…”. The Holy Church is the guardian of that lamp, he thought, lest the ignorant set the whole world ablaze with individual heresies. “By faith we are saved only, in believing the promises. And though faith be never without love and good works, yet is our saving imputed neither to love nor unto good works, but unto faith only.” The bile of Luther had been vomited on shores of England and the soiled feet of Tyndale had carried it back to the continent.
Latomus’s fellow theologian, Ruard Tapper, also from the university at Lovain, hadn’t bothered with most of the translated documents. Tyndale’s reputation alone made him a valuable prisoner. The association with Germany’s heretic would be enough to condemn him. The trial was merely a formality and to Tapper, veteran of twelve years as theological assessor at such functions, one more stepping stone along the path to greatness. He was not content with being chancellor of the university, and this achievement would bring him the recognition of those higher up in the church.
The senior churchman stood. The assembled commissioners came to order. The stone walls pulsed with the rich baritone cadence.
“At the bequest of the Procurer-General and at the appointment of the Regent, this Commission has diligently sought to discharge the duties for which it was convened and has reached a conclusion regarding the Articles of Guilt concerning the Accused. Let it be known that on the Sixth day of August in the Year of Our Lord the One Thousand Fifteen Hundred and Thirty Sixth the Accused, William Tyndale, in the Charge of Heresy towards the Holy Church, has been found Guilty.”
There was no outcry. No call of objection. Only a stiffening of the man before them. He shook off the hands holding him and took a step towards the table. Tapper waived off the guards and let Tyndale approach. The supposed heretic stood before the assembled potentates. Tapper continued.
“Not only is the heretic guilty of sedition and rebellion against his Mother, the Holy Church, and her protector, the Holy Father, but he has soiled the very Word of God by debauching it with vulgar language.” Tapper shuffled through the papers before him and pulled a book from beneath. “Is this your work?” he asked as he held it out.
Tyndale eyed the book, one of the first to be published – ten years ago. He received it into loving hands, turning it over, rubbing his thumb up the binding. He opened it up and the dusty aroma of the pages wafted up. Turning to the preface he read silently the words he had penned a seeming lifetime ago. “Apply the gospel, that is to say the promises, unto the deserving of Christ, and to the mercy of God and his truth, and so shalt thou not despair; but shalt feel God as a kind and merciful father. And his Spirit shall dwell in thee, and shall be strong in thee, and the promises shall be given thee at the last…”
“Is this your work, do you claim it as your own?” Latomus asked him.
Tyndale turned another page and read aloud in a soft, yet clear, voice. “My conscience beareth me record, that of a pure intent, singly and faithfully, I have interpreted it, as far as God gave me the gift of knowledge and understanding.”
Latomus snatched the book from Tyndale’s hands and flung it across the room. He spoke in tightly measured tones. “This proceeding is adjourned. The heretic will be degraded from the priesthood this afternoon. His execution will be at the leisure of the Procurer-General.
The lengthening shadows had not yet reached the hastily built platform where the degradation was about to take place. The commissioners stood to one side, with additional dignitaries milling about like nervous cattle. Members of the castle’s staff ducked in and out of various doorways, hoping to catch a glimpse as they went about their duties.
The event began.
Latomus and Tapper braved the sagging ladder and waited atop the rough-hewn planks of the platform. Tyndale was led by the same men who had first bought him from cell. He had been allowed to return there for a few hours to compose himself and pray. He made his way up the ladder unaided, but with a guard both fore and aft of him. At the top the guards flanked him and the theologians faced him.
Tapper pulled Tyndale’s hands forward, palms up, and pushed back the priest’s black robes to bare his arms from the elbow down. He then instructed the heretic to kneel and place his hands on a low table taken from the kitchen that morning. Latomus stepped forward. He had a short, thin board in his hands. The wood was mostly worn and faded except for the edge that had been shaved thin and sharp. He placed the wood horizontally across Tyndale’s wrists and, turning the sharp edge down, scraped the upturned hands from palm to fingertips.
“As you are no longer meet to be a servant of God, nor to be a mediator between God and man, the oil of anointing is removed from your hands.” He continued to scrape the scholar’s hands. The palms reddened and the skin began to tear and roll up. The fingertips split and bled. Latomus stopped scraping and laid the board aside. He motioned to a servant at the bottom of the ladder and a small basket was brought up. He took out a loaf of bread and a jar of wine. Holding them up, he strode around the platform so that all below could see. Completing the circuit, he placed them on the table before Tyndale.
“As you are no longer meet to be a servant of God, nor to be a mediator between God and man, the elements of the Eucharist are taken from before you.” Tapper came forward to remove the elements and set them aside. He nodded to the guards, who raised Tyndale to his feet. Latomus and Tapper moved to either side of the bloody-handed heretic. Taking a small knife from his belt, Latomus slit the collar of Tyndale’s vestments, front and back. He grasped a handful of the heavy woven material at the shoulder and midway down the sleeve. Tapper did the same.
“As you are no longer meet to be a servant of God,” they intoned together, “nor to be a mediator between God and man, the priestly garments are stripped from you.” In short, choppy jerks they ripped the robe and pulled it away. Casting aside the tattered remnants, the tow made their way down the ladder. Dufief met them with a document and a burning candle. He dribbled a patch of crimson wax for each of them at the bottom of the parchment and each, in turn, pressed his signet ring, habitually worn on the thumb, into the soft material. The transaction was complete. Tyndale was now in the hands of the magisterial powers and no longer a concern to the church.
On the platform, Tyndale raised his abused hands up towards the heavens and softly whispered,
“I must therefore have always the law in my sight, that I may be meek in the spirit, and give God all the laud and praise, ascribing to him all righteousness, and to myself all unrighteousness and sin. I must also have the promises before mine eyes, that I despair not; in which promises I see the mercy, favor, and good-will of God upon me in the blood of Christ, which hath made satisfaction for mine imperfectness, and fulfilled for me that which I could not do.”
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William Tyndale was executed sometime during the first week of October in 1536. He was tied to a stake and strangled. The body was then burned. Just before being killed, he is recorded as crying out with a loud voice – “Lord! Open the king of England’s eyes.”
In 1537 the king officially recognized the Coverdale and Mathew bibles, published in English.
References consulted in the preparation of this dramatized account:
A Pathway into the Holy Scripture by William Tyndale, History of the Reformation CD, copyright 1997 by AGES Software.
Evolution of the English Bible by H.W. Hoare, History of the Reformation CD, copyright 1997 by AGES Software.
Tyndale’s Epistle to the Reader subjoined to his first published version of the New Testament, History of the Reformation CD, copyright 1997 by AGES Software.
William Tyndale: A Biography by Davide Danielle, copyright 1994 by Yale University.