me together the drops that are scattered abroad; make me the flowers
green again that are withered.
"Open me the places that are closed, and bring me forth the winds that
in them are shut up; show me the image of a voice; and then I will
declare to thee the thing that thou labourest to know.
"And I said, O Lord that bearest rule; who may know these things, but he
that hath not his dwelling with men?
"As for me I am unwise; how may I speak of these things whereof thou
askest me?
"Then he said unto me, like as thou canst do none of these things that I
have spoken of, even so canst thou not find out my judgment; or in the
end, the love that I have promised unto my people."
And when the short antiphony was finished, they kissed each other a
hopeful "good-night," being made strong in this--that they had put self
out of their supplication, and been only "troubled in mind for Israel's
sake."
All were in deep sleep when the blast of a trumpet and the trampling of
a heavily-shod horse on the stones of the courtyard awakened them.
Jane's quick ear detected at once the tone of triumph in the summons.
She ran to her mother's room, and found her at an open window. She was
calling aloud to the messenger, "Is it you, Doctor Verity?" and the
answer came swift and strong, ere the question was fairly asked--
"It is I, John Verity, with the blessing of God, and good tidings."
"Get your horse to stable, Doctor, and we will be down to welcome you."
The next moment the house was astir from one end to the other--bells
were ringing, lights moving hither and thither, men and women running
downstairs, and at the open door Mrs. Swaffham and Jane waiting for the
messenger, their eager faces and shining eyes full of hope and
expectation.
He kept them waiting until he had seen his weary horse attended to, then
hurrying across the courtyard he clasped the hands held out in welcome,
and with a blessing on his lips came into the lighted room. It was joy
and strength to look at him. His bulk was like that of the elder gods;
his head like an antique marble, his hazel eyes beaming, joyous, and
full of that light which comes "from within." A man of large mind as
well as of large stature, with a simple, good heart, that could never
grow old; strong and courageous, yet tender as a girl; one who in the
battle of life would always go to the front.
So it was good even to see him, and how much better to hear him say--
"Israel Swaffham is well, and God hath given us a great victory."
"And John?"
"I left him following after the enemy. We have smitten them hip and
thigh; we----"
"And Cymlin?"
"He was guarding the prisoners. We have ten thousand of them, and----"
"And Tonbert?"
"Nothing has hurt him. He was in a strait for one five minutes; but I
cried to him--'Set thy teeth, and fight for thy life, Tonbert;' and he
came safely away with the colours in his hands, when he had slain two of
the rogues who wanted them."
"Now then, we shall have peace, Doctor?"
"No use, Martha, in crying peace! peace! when peace is wickedness. Our
Protestant liberty was won by men willing to go to the stake for it; our
civil liberty can only be won by men willing to go to the battle-field
for it. But here come the beef and bread, and I am a hungry man. Let me
eat and drink. And you women, bless the Lord and forget not all His
benefits."
It was not long before he took a pipe from his pocket, lit it, and drew
his chair to the hearthstone. "Now we will talk," he said. "When did
you hear of us last?"
"About the tenth of August. You were then in camp near Edinburgh," said
Mrs. Swaffham.
"To be sure--having a paper war with the Kirk and David Leslie. It was
little to Cromwell's liking, and no more to David Leslie's; both of them
would rather defiance of battle than Declarations from the General
Assembly. They came to nothing, and as the weather was bad and our
provisions short, and our men falling sick beyond imagination, we
retreated to Dunbar to fortify and recruit. Then the cunning Scots got
behind us and blocked up our way. We were in a bad case, Martha,
between Leslie and the black North Sea--in a trap, and no less. For the
first time our good Cromwell faced defeat, yes, annihilation. Did he
lose heart? Not a bit of it. He sent word south to get men ready to
meet Leslie, whatever became of us; and then he watched and waited and
prayed. Such prayer! Martha. I saw him lifting up his sword to
heaven--I heard him speaking to God--pressing forward and upward--bent
on prevailing--taking heaven by assault. About three o'clock on the
morning of the battle I went to him. It was yet dark, but the men were
at arms, and Cromwell was going from troop to troop encouraging them. I
said to him, 'Brother Oliver, you have got an answer?' And he smiled
joyfully and said:
"'It is in my heart, John. When the devil had said all he had to say,
then God spoke. Indeed I have great consolations. I know, and am sure,
that because of our weakness, because of our strait, the Lord will
deliver us. But tell the men that whoever has a heart for prayer, must
pray now; and then quit themselves like men--there is ONE watching and
helping them.'
"You women would not understand the setting of the battle. It is enough
that it began at four in the morning, and that by nine o'clock there was
no longer a Scotch army--three thousand of it were slain in the battle,
many more killed in pursuit. We had all their baggage and artillery,
besides fifteen thousand stand of arms and two hundred colours to hang
up in Westminster Hall--and not twenty Englishmen killed. The Scots
came forward shouting, '_The Covenant! The Covenant!_' and Cromwell
thundered back, 'THE LORD OF HOSTS!' His voice seemed to fill the
field. It was heard above the clash of the swords, and the shouting of
the captains--and it was caught by thousands of other voices--above the
bellowing of the cannon. It was an invocation, it was a shout of
triumph, and indeed THE LORD OF HOSTS was above _The Covenant_.'"
"Oh, if I could have seen Cromwell at that onset! just for a moment!"
exclaimed Jane.
"At the onset! Yes! It is something never to forget. He leaps to his
horse, rides to the head of his troop, and gallops it to the very front
of the battle. I saw him at Dunbar, his Ironsides in buff and rusty
steel shouting after him--sons of Anak most of them--God's soldiers, not
men's; and led by one whose swoop and stroke in battle no one ever saw
equaled. All through the fight he was a pillar of fire to us; and just
when it was hottest the sun rose upon the sea, and Cromwell took it for
a sign of present victory, and shouted to his army, 'Now let God arise,
and His enemies shall be scattered.'"
"I can see him! I can hear him!" cried Jane.
"And at that moment, the Scots broke and fled, and the field was ours.
Then he called a halt, and to steady his men and fire them afresh for
the pursuit, he sang with us the one hundred and seventeenth Psalm. And
one troop after another caught the words, and for two miles men leaning
upon their swords were singing, 'O praise the Lord all ye nations:
praise Him all ye people. For His merciful kindness is great towards
us, and the truth of the Lord endureth forever. Praise ye the Lord!' I
tell you there was joyful clamour enough on Dunbar's swampy field to
make the sky ring about it."
"And what of Israel Swaffham? He did his part? I know that," said Mrs.
Swaffham.
"He led his own troop of the solid fen men of Cambridgeshire. I saw
their blue banner waving wherever Tonbert carried it."
"And John?"
"Was with Lambert's Yorkshiremen. No one could resist them. Cymlin
rode with Cromwell. Cymlin was never behindhand yet."
"I thank God for my men. I give them gladly to His Cause."
Jane's face was radiant, and tears of enthusiasm filled her eyes. She
kissed the doctor proudly, and ran to send a messenger to de Wick with
the tidings of Dunbar. When she returned she sat down by his side, and
leaning her head against his arm, began to question him:
"Dr. John, at Marston Moor Leslie fought _with_ Cromwell, was with him
in that glorious charge, where he got the name of Ironside. Why then
was he fighting against Cromwell at Dunbar?"
"The Scotch have had many minds in this war, Jane. Just now they are
determined to make Presbyterianism dominant in England, and give us the
young man, Charles Stuart, for our king. And Englishmen will not have
either King or Presbytery. As far as that goes, most of them would
rather take the Book of Common Prayer than touch the Scotch Covenant.
And as for the young man, Charles Stuart, he is false as hell from his
beard to his boots; false to the Scots, false to the English, true to no
one."
"And you, Doctor, how do you feel?"
"My little girl, I was born an Independent. I have preached and
suffered for liberty of conscience; if I could deny it, I would deny my
baptism. I'll do neither--not while my name is John Verity."
Then Jane lifted his big hand and kissed it, and answered, "I thought
so!"
"And if England wants a king," he continued, "she can make one; she has
good men enough to choose from."
"Some say that Cromwell will make himself king."
"Some people know no more of Cromwell than a mite knows of a
cheesemonger. Nevertheless, Cromwell is the Captain of England. He has
expressed her heart, he has done her will."
"Yet he is not without faults," said Mrs. Swaffham.
"I don't see his faults, Martha. I see only him. Great men may have
greater faults than little men can find room for; and Cromwell is
beloved of God, and therefore not always explainable to men."
"He has dared to do many things which even his own party do not
approve."
"Jane, they who care will dare, though it call flame upon them. And
Cromwell loves to lead on the verge of the impossible, for it is then he
can invoke the aid of the Omnipotent."
"I thought the Scotch were a very good, religious people."
"God made them to be good, but He knew they wouldn't be; so He also made
Oliver Cromwell."
"Are you going further, Doctor?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.
"No, Martha. I mean to stay here until the General's messenger joins
me. He sent a letter to London by the young Lord Cluny Neville, and he
took the direct road there, so we parted very early in the day; but he
calls here for me on his return, and we shall go back together, if so
God wills, to Edinburgh. And now, Jane Swaffham, if thou be a discreet
young woman, be careful of the young Lord Cluny Neville."
"Why am I warned, Doctor?"
"Because he is one of those men who take women captive with his
beauty--a very gracious youth--a great lover of the General, and much
loved by him."
"I never heard you speak of Lord Cluny Neville before."
"Because I did not know him before. He came into our camp at
Musselburgh and offered Cromwell his sword. The two men looked at each
other steadily for a full minute, and in that minute Cromwell loved the
young man. He saw down into his heart, and trusted him. Later, he told
me that he reminded him of his own son, Oliver, who, as you know, was
killed in battle just before Naseby. He has set his heart on the youth,
and shows him great favour. Some are jealous of the boy, and make a
grumble that he is so much trusted."
"How can they be so foolish? I wonder the General suffers them. Surely
he can have some one to love near him," said Mrs. Swaffham.
"Well, Martha, it was part of the Apostle's wisdom to suffer fools
gladly. My brother Oliver can do it; and there is nothing wiser or more
difficult. I cannot do it. I would rough them! rough them! till they
learnt their folly, and left it."
"If this young Lord is taking a letter to Madame Cromwell, then why did
not Israel write to me?"
"Oh, the unreasonableness of women! Can a man write when he is in the
saddle pursuing the enemy? Israel and Lambert left immediately with
seven regiments for Edinburgh. He sent you words full of love and
comfort; so did your sons; what would you have, woman?"
"The General wrote to the Generaless."
"He wrote on the battle-field, the cries of the wounded and dying in his
ears, all horror and confusion around him. He was giving orders about
the arms and the artillery, and about the movement of the troops as he
wrote. But he knew his wife and children were waiting in sore anxiety
for news--and not expecting good news--and 'twas a miracle how he did
write at all. No one else could have brought heart and hands to a pen."
"I think Israel might have written."
"I'll be bound you do! It's woman-like."
"What do you think of the young Charles Stuart?" asked Jane. "It is
said he has taken the Covenant, and is turned pious."
"I think worse of him than of his father. He is an unprincipled
malignant--a brazen villain, changing and chopping about without faith
in God or man. Englishmen will have none of him--and the Scots can't
force him on them."
"Dunbar settled that; eh, Doctor?"
"I should say that Dunbar has done the job for all the Presbyterian
tribe."
"But oh, the suffering, Doctor!" said Mrs. Swaffham. "Think of that."
"I do, Martha. But God's will be done. Let them suffer. In spite of
Cromwell's entreaties and reasonings, they had taken in the Stuart to
force him upon us as king--a king who at this very moment, has a popish
army fighting for him in Ireland; who has Prince Rupert--red with the
blood of Englishmen--at the head of ships stolen from us on a malignant
account; who has French and Irish ships constantly ravaging our coasts,
and who is every day issuing commissions to raise armies in the very
heart of England to fight Englishmen. Treachery like this concerns all
good people. Shall such a matchless, astonishing traitor indeed reign
over us? If we were willing for it, we should be worthy of ten thousand
deaths--could ten thousand deaths be endured. Now let me go to rest. I
am weary and sleepy, and have won the right to sleep. Give me a verse
to sleep on."
Mrs. Swaffham answered at once, as if she had been pondering the words,
"'He lifted up his face to heaven, and praised the king of heaven. And
said, from Thee cometh victory, from Thee cometh wisdom, and Thine is
the glory, and I am Thy servant.'"
"Thank you, Martha; you have spoken well for me;" and with a smile he
turned his beaming eyes on Jane, and she said confidently--
"'Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for thee.'"
"Amen, Jane! And as you have given me a word of Jesus, the son of
Sirach, so will I give you both one, and you may ponder it in your
hearts--'Many kings have sat down upon the ground, and one that was
never thought of, hath worn the crown.'"
Then Mrs. Swaffham put her hand on the Doctor's arm to stay him, and she
asked, "Do you remember the flag the women of Huntingdon and Ely gave to
General Cromwell just before Naseby?"
"I do. It was a great lion--the lion of England guarding the Cross of
England. And your Israel made the speech. I am not likely to forget
it."
"Then you also remember that as Israel was speaking, the east wind rose,
and stretched wide-out the silk folds, so that the big tawny lion
watching the red cross was blown straight above the General's bare head.
And there was a murmur of wonder, and then a great shout, and Israel
pointing to the flag and the man below it, cried out--
"Behold your Captain! Cromwell 'is a lion's whelp--from the prey thou
art gone up, my son--and unto Him shall the gathering of the people
be.'"
"I was standing with Mrs. Cromwell and the girls," said Jane; "and at
the shout he turned to them, and little Frances ran to him and he gave
the flagstaff into your hand, Doctor, and then stooped and tied the
child's tippet. Then Mary and I went closer, and to us he was just the
same Mr. Cromwell that I knew years ago, when I sat on his knee, and put
my arms round his neck, and he kissed me as tenderly as if I was one of
his own little girls. But for all that, something of power and majesty
clothed him like a garment, and the people generally feared to touch the
hem of it."
"_A lion's whelp!_" he said proudly, "and while England's lion has such
whelps, she may make and unmake kings as is best for her." Then he lit
his candle and went stamping down the flagged passage that led to his
room. The men and women of the house were waiting there for a word, and
with the open door in one hand and the candle in the other, he bade them
good-morning with the notable verse Jane had given him for his own
comfort. And as he did so, he suddenly remembered that these words had
been written thousands of years ago for _his_ encouragement; and he was
filled with wonder at the thought, and he called out, "Men and women,
all of you, listen once again to the word of the Lord--
"'Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for you.'"
In the meantime Mrs. Swaffham and Jane were going slowly up-stairs. "We
can have two or three hours sleep, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham; and Jane
answered, "Yes" like one who either heard not, or cared not. Her mother
understood. She said softly, "He was thinking of Cromwell when he said
'one that was never thought of'--about the crown I mean, Jane?"
"Yes, mother--_Oliver Rex_!"
"It might be."
"It ought to be. He has conquered England, Ireland, Scotland:--William
of Normandy had not a third of his right."
"I wish I could forget the man; for I must lose myself for an hour or
two, or I shall be good for nothing when daylight comes. You, too,
Jane, go and sleep."
She said, "Yes, mother." But sleep was a thousand miles away from Jane
Swaffham.
*CHAPTER III*
*WOVEN OF LOVE AND GLORY*
"Because right is right, to follow right
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence."
"See that thou lovest what is lovely."
For the next three days there was a busy time at Swaffham. All the
neighbours were summoned to hear the news, and a sermon from Dr. Verity;
and he did not spare the rod in the way of his calling. There were some
wealthy young men present, and he let them know that they ought not to
be present; furthermore, he told them how many miles it was to Duty and
to Scotland.
"This is not a time," he said, "for men to be on their farms or in their
shops getting a little money. '_Thou Shalt_' is written on life in
characters just as terrible as '_Thou Shalt Not_.' It is not enough
that you do not help the enemy; you _Shall_ shut your shop, you _Shall_
leave your oxen untied; you _Shall_ take your musket, and never once
think in your heart 'Who is going to pay me for this business?' You
_Shall_ go forth to serve God and to save England. If you, Squire
Acton, would out, and you, Fermor, and you, Calthorpe, and Charmington
and Garnier, you would draw men after you; for many will follow if the
candle be once lighted. By the mouth of John Verity, a servant of the
Lord, you have this day got another call. Look inward and think over
it. You say you love God; you say you love England; what is love worth
that hath a tongue but no hands? I told you these things before, and if
you did not hear me, you ought to have heard me. Stand up and face the
world, and say plainly, 'I will go,' or else, 'I will not go.' You are
Englishmen, you are obliged to own that name, and in the freedom or
slavery, the glory or disgrace of England, you will be forced to share.
You pray for England. Very well, that is your duty; but it is serving
God very much at your ease. God wants your hands as well as your
prayers."
"Against whom?" asked Garnier.
"Against this young Charles Stuart. He is a bolder liar than his
father; he sticks at no perjury that answers his purpose. If you let
him put shackles on you again, it will be a deed to make the devil
blush--if he has any blushing faculty in him."
Then Acton rose and said, "Dr. Verity, I will go," and Calthorpe and
Fermor followed, and the Doctor told them to meet him at Swaffham Market
Cross the following day. "And I will say this thing to you," he added,
"you are like to have the good fortune of the man hired at the eleventh
hour; you will get the full penny for the last stroke.
"And now," he continued, "I have a few words for you, women. In times
when everything seems on the perish, a deal depends on you. God knows
there are troubles enough for us all, but some women are never weary of
hunting for more. It is a poor business. Give it up. You know that
you often make wretched days for yourselves, and every one you come
across, about little things not worth minding. I have heard men that
have been in tropic countries say 'they hardly ever saw the lions and
serpents they feared,' but that the flies and the insects and the heat
made their lives miserable enough. That is the way in most women's
lives; they hear about sieges and battles and awful death, but such
things don't often come to their door-step. If they do, my experience
is that women behave themselves nobly; they lift up their hearts and
meet their fate like men and Christians.
"I am bound to say, the main part of women's troubles comes from little
things--from very little things. I've known a broken pitcher, or a
slice of burned bread, or a smoky fire do the black business for a whole
day. No matter what comes, women, keep a cheerful temper. Cheerfulness
is the very coin of happiness. The devil loves a woman with a snappy,
nagging temper; she does lots of business for him, without his helping
her. I don't think any of you here will take his arles-penny, or work
for his 'well done.' Besides, all women want to be loved; but I can
tell you, every one feels bitter and hard to those _who prevent
happiness_. It is easier to forgive a person for doing us a great wrong
than for deliberately spoiling our comfort because some trifling thing
has put them out. A woman who will do that is a selfish creature, and
she ought to live by herself."
The short service was followed by an excellent dinner, and the richly
dressed men and women, full of eager questions and innocent mirth,
filled the Swaffham parlours, and made a fair picture of hospitality
sobered by great interests and great events. Some of the guests
lingered for two and three days, but Dr. Verity would not be delayed.
The next morning he enrolled sixty men, and then he was resolved to ride
with them as far as York. "And if Neville comes, send him quickly after
me," he said. "He thought he might be four days, but I will give him
seven, and then wonder if he keeps tryst. There will be many things in
London to delay him."
In fact Neville was so long delayed, that Mrs. Swaffham was certain he
had been sent back to Scotland at once on Mrs. Cromwell's order, and
that he would probably be with the Lord General before Dr. Verity.
After a week or more had passed, all expectation of his visit died out,
and Jane began to wonder why Matilda had not been to see her.
"No wonder at all," replied Mrs. Swaffham. "She showed her good sense
in keeping away until the victory had been talked out. You would have
been on the verge of quarreling all the time you were together, and the
kindness between de Wick and Swaffham is a deal older than the oldest
Stuart--it is generations old--and it is not worth while killing it for
either Stuart or Cromwell."
As she was speaking there was a slight stir in the passage, and Jane
smiled at her mother. It was only an illustration of the old law--they
had been talking of Matilda, because she was approaching them, and had
sent her thoughts in advance. She came in without her usual spirit. She
was dressed in black with not even a flower to relieve its sombreness;
she had been weeping, and her face was without colour or animation.
Jane went to meet her friend, kissed her, and removed her hat. Then
Matilda went to Mrs. Swaffham and laid her head against her breast, and
said, "I have a bad headache. I have a bad heartache. Oh, dear! Oh,
dear!"
"It was bad news for you, dearie," said the motherly woman; "you may be
sure I thought of you."
"I know you did. It was terrible news. Father has walked the floor
night and day ever since."
"I hope that no one you love was hurt?"
"Stephen is well, as far as we know. He sent one of his troopers with
the news--George Copping, a Huntingdon man. I dare say you know him?"
"I know who he is."