Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [465]
She knew her brothers so well.
In the coming crisis she might have to protect Nathaniel. And she knew she must protect the child.
When she thought of the causes of this great storm that was about to engulf them, to Margaret at least it seemed that the whole matter was the fault of the king – the king and his terrible doctrine of divine right. That was why Sarum and half the country was up in arms; that was why her family was about to be torn apart; and in her heart, she cursed him.
When old Queen Elizabeth died childless at the turn of the century, the logical and proper choice as her successor had been her cousin James Stuart of Scotland, the sober-minded son of the beheaded Mary Queen of Scots.
At first it had seemed the new regime would bring happy times. England and Scotland, though each remained a separate kingdom with its own Parliament and Church, at last shared a single monarch. The king and both his peoples were mainly Protestant. There had been peace, at last, with Spain. And had not the start of the Stuart dynasty seen such glories as Shakespeare’s greatest plays performed in London, the opening up of the trade with the newly found continent of America, and the preparing of the noblest book in the English language – King James’s Authorised Bible? Why had it all turned sour?
Because James and his son Charles understood neither of the countries that they ruled.
They hated the Protestant Presbyters of Scotland who would have none of their bishops; they despised the proud Parliament of England.
Worse: the self-styled scholar James believed that kings ruled by divine right and that no one, even parliaments, should interfere with their actions.
Worse still: his son Charles I, governing through his hated favourites Buckingham and Strafford, had vigorously put his father’s ideas into practice.
It was Edmund, at last, who broke the uneasy silence, motioning his sister and brothers to sit at the old oak table. He himself sat in the chair at the head.
He looked unhappy. It was obvious that he had been steeling himself for this job for many hours. The other three waited silently as he opened the proceedings.
“The king’s commission of array is issued and he has raised his standard at Nottingham. Parliament has voted Lord Essex ten thousand men to oppose him.” He paused, looking from one to the other. He looked at young Nathaniel sternly. He knew where Obadiah stood.
“This family will fight,” he declared, “for the Parliament.” It was an order. If it was obeyed, the family might still come through together.
There was a long pause. Then young Nathaniel, very quietly:
“Brother Edmund, I cannot.”
A sound of disgust from Obadiah. Edmund winced. He had expected as much, yet hoped not to hear it.
He put a restraining hand on Obadiah, who was about to leave the table.
“Stay,” he commanded gently. “Let us not part like this. One last time, we shall discuss.”
Up and down the country, during those days, families were faced with the same terrible decisions. Great issues were at stake, fundamental to the constitution of State and Church, that would cause not only the kingdom to be riven, but brother to fight brother, to kill or die.
The final debate within the Shockley family was conducted in a calm and solemn manner. The arguments were familiar to them all, but now came the irrevocable taking of positions. The questions which must decide the issue came almost like a catechism.
EDMUND: Do you say that the king may rule without Parliament?
NATHANIEL: He has the right to do so.
EDMUND: But it is not the custom. Can the king tax illegally? What of ship-money?
No issue had been more furiously fought than the tax, owed only by ports, that Charles had tried to impose on inland