Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [472]
But the farm was rich, and as safe from the war as it had been from the plague.
Even such a well-known Parliamentarian as John Ivie himself cheerfully came to call, as he had done in years gone by. For, Royalist or not, it was impossible to dislike Nathaniel.
At first glance the cathedral seemed quiet as they walked up the nave.
It was only when they reached the transept where the great bending pillars soared that one became aware of a small group of men busily engaged.
When they arrived, the four men were briefly resting and drinking beer; but already there was a pile of wooden casing on the ground beside them, and loaded on a small cart, half a dozen long pipes, each with a number chalked upon it.
They were dismantling the cathedral’s great double organ.
“I spoke to the dean the other week,” Nathaniel explained. “I warned him it should be done and I am glad he has taken my advice.” Then he took little Samuel and showed him the great pipes, explaining to him where the air entered and left to produce the sound.
“What are they doing?” Samuel asked.
Nathaniel laughed. “They’re hiding the organ from your uncle Obadiah,” he said. “Obadiah does not like music.”
The dour dislike of the Puritans for anything conducive to human happiness had taken many forms. A Puritan like the famous Prynne could even find it necessary to write a tract denouncing the evil of long hair. And now this dislike had extended to music with the threat of an Act of Parliament to order the demolition of all church organs in the land.
The dismantling of the great organ of Salisbury Cathedral was a wise act of foresight on the part of the dean and chapter. When the Act was passed the next year, Salisbury’s organ was already safely hidden away.
To Samuel this seemed a fine adventure. When they had inspected the organ, Nathaniel carried him back through the close and into the market place, pointing out St Thomas’s Church as they went.
It was here, to his delight, that Nathaniel had discovered that the curate, John King, was a secret Royalist.
“If the news of the Royalist forces is good, he orders a psalm of rejoicing – if Parliament’s won a battle, he calls for a psalm of penitence.” He roared with laughter. “Why I go to church more than ever I did before,” he cried, “just to see what psalm he’ll light on next.”
And though Samuel did not really understand all this, he laughed happily at his uncle’s infectious good humour.
Just as they were leaving the city, they met their cousin young Charles Moody.
Perhaps because old Edward Shockley fifty years ago had warned his grandson William to be wary of them – though he would never be specific as to his reasons – the Shockleys seldom saw their Catholic Moody cousins. But recently Nathaniel’s support of the king had opened communications between the two families. Occasionally now, one of them would ride over from Shaftesbury to discuss the military situation with him; and the most frequent visitor was young Charles Moody. He was a dark, intense boy of twenty who followed both Margaret and Nathaniel about so closely that, as Nathaniel joked, it was hard to tell if he hero-worshipped him, was in love with her, or both. “He wants to fight in the next campaign,” he explained. “I’ve promised he shall ride at my side.”
The party rode back to Avonsford together. Samuel liked his cousin Charles and frequently amused them by his demands to ride with him. “Another Cavalier!” they cried. And though he was very young, he always afterwards remembered the journey as well as the visit to the cathedral. It had been a perfect day.
Yet his sister only remembered the ending of that day with gloom. For it was only after Moody had left them, and Mary Godfrey had taken Samuel upstairs, that Nathaniel walked up the slope with Margaret on the edge of the high ground and there confided to her:
“I think our cause is lost.”
“But the king is winning everywhere. Soon he will march on London, and Parliament is near to surrender. Or is