Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [436]
He remembered the story of the fallen woman in the New Testament. “Which of us shall cast the first stone?” he was about to say; but as he considered Abigail’s own perfect morality, that, too, seemed a hopeless argument.
“Let the Justices decide the punishment,” she said quietly; and then more gently and even with a smile she added: “Thou art a merciful man Edward Shockley. After her punishment, then will be the time for thou and I to show mercy to the sinner.”
How certain she was. He could not be so stern himself; but he was not so pure as Abigail. He left her sadly, knowing the young woman must suffer. Nellie Godfrey had other plans. Surreptitiously, Peter Mason had warned her. A little before noon she had made her way to her brother’s house, where he found her when he returned from Edward Shockley. She was carrying a single bag over her shoulder which contained most of her moveable possessions.
“I’m leaving,” she told him flatly.
He began to protest, but she cut him short. “My life’s over here, brother. They’re going to whip me in the market place.”
He nodded dismally.
“But if you run . . .”
“I’ll be a vagrant. I’ll take my chances.”
“Where will you go?” he asked unhappily.
“West.” The big port of Bristol was a place where she could take lodgings without too many questions being asked. She could earn a living there.
He sighed. He supposed she would be a harlot there too; the port could be a violent place. He did not like to think about her likely final fate.
Silently he went to the little chest where he kept his valuables. From it he carefully counted out fifteen pounds: it was almost all he had. He handed it to her.
But Nellie only smiled, kissed him, and put the coins back in the box.
“I have money,” she said, and turned to the door.
“Will I see you again?” Piers asked.
She turned; her brilliant blue eyes took in her gentle brother with complete, resigned understanding, just as they had already taken in the world.
“Shouldn’t think so,” she said, and was gone.
It was just as she was walking briskly towards Fisherton Bridge that Edward Shockley came up with her.
“I couldn’t stop them,” he told her.
“Don’t worry. I’m going.”
The sun was warm. As Nellie walked along the road towards Wilton, she was not uneasy in her mind. She guessed that the bailiff, once her absence was discovered, would make no great effort to go after her. Indeed, she even felt a sense of relief that, because of the sudden crisis, she was being forced to take her life in a different direction.
“Whatever happens,” she vowed, “this time I won’t go under.”
Less than a mile out from Fisherton Bridge, as she passed the village of Bemerton, she saw a carter who offered to take her to Barford, the other side of Wilton.
Just as she was climbing into his cart she was surprised to see Edward Shockley on an old chestnut horse come riding up. Before she could even say anything, the young man had dropped a small pouch into her hand, muttered, “God be with you,” and, blushing scarlet, wheeled the old horse round and cantered slowly away. The bag contained ten pounds.
Nellie Godfrey stayed that night at the old western hill town of Shaftesbury, eighteen miles away, and the following morning continued, northwards this time, upon her way.
On July 6, 1553, Edward VI of England, the pious Protestant boy king, breathed his last.
The news had been expected for a month, but now, all England waited with trepidation to see who would succeed.
The answer, when it came, proved to be one of the oddest episodes in English history.
For in July in the year of Our Lord 1553, the throne of England was given to Lady Jane Grey.
It was an extraordinary situation. The two daughters of Henry VIII had been passed over; their brother Edward, perhaps to secure the crown for a known Protestant, had left it in his will to a cousin in the female royal line whose claim to the throne was, at best, distant. This was the so-called ‘devise’ of King Edward.