Saraband for Two Sisters

“Twas a long journey and he would have us make it. He said he must see you before he died.”

“He’s not going to die,” I said firmly. “We are going to nurse him.”

They did not answer. They just looked at me with sorrowing eyes. Only when we removed his garments did we see the terrible extent of his wounds. Ella looked at me and murmured, “It is the will of God. He fought for what he believed to be right.”

But I was angry that men should destroy one another with their deadly weapons when they had been given minds to reason and tongues with which to speak “I shall save him!” I cried. “I will.”

It was as though I shook my fist at Fate, at God. TU not submit to Your will. I’ll not let You take him, for it is so stupid for a young life to be taken in this way. But it was I who was foolish, for how could I pit myself against the forces of nature? I stayed with him, for my presence was the only comfort I could give him, and Ella left us because she understood her brother well.

He talked as he died, rambling a little and often incoherent, but I knew what he was telling me.

“We’re going to win... . This will be remembered... . The battle of Marston Moor ... Cromwell ... victory ... the end of evil rule... Bersaba... my love... Bersaba... .”

“Yes, Luke. I am here. I shall always be here while you want me.”

“It was good... was it not... ?”

I put my lips close to his ear and said, “It was good.”

“There is the boy. Little Lucas. Love him... .”

“He is my son, Luke... mine and yours... .”

“Such happiness... . Perhaps it was sinful... .”

“Never, never!” I cried vehemently. “How could it be when it brought us Lucas?”

He smiled.

“The cause is won,” he said. “It was worthwhile ... everything ... and you, Bersaba...”

“Yes, Luke. I am here.”

“I loved you. Perhaps it was wrong... .”

“It was right... absolutely right. And I love you, Luke.”

“Stay with me,” he said.

And I did until he died.

So I was a widow, and my hatred of the war intensified. It seemed I had deeply cared for him because I was beside myself with grief.

‘What do I care who wins if only they will stop.”

I mourned for Luke and I was thinking of Richard, who was in the thick of the fight.

Angelet came over to mourn with me.

“My poor, poor Bersaba. I can understand so well. You see, there is Richard.”

“Yes,” I said ironically, “there is Richard.”

“But we must not let the children see our grief.”

She was right. They were our salvation.

Poor Ella, this was her greatest tragedy. She had loved her brother and they had always been together. But she had her belief in the rightness of the cause to sustain her.

“He lost his life at Marston Moor,” she said, “but he lost it fighting for the right and that battle is going to prove decisive.”

“And Richard?” I thought. “What of Richard?”

Angelet wanted us to go to her that Christmas but I would not, for I could not ask Ella to spend Christmas in a Royalist household when her brother had been killed by them.

“And you, Bersaba?” she asked.

“I care not for either side,” I answered, “and you are my sister. I think I care more for people than ideas. I doubt not there are faults on both sides and we cannot expect Utopia whoever wins. I don’t know what I prefer-the mismanagement of the King or the strictures of the Parliament-perhaps the former, for I am no Puritan. But we cannot say until we have experienced it. No, I care only that they stop this senseless war, this killing of families.”

“Oh, Bersaba, you are right. You always are. You are so clever. I would those in high places could take your advice.”

I laughed at her. “Nay, I am as foolish as the rest,” I said. I said that she should come to the farm for Christmas so that we could all be together and later on in the year when the spring came I would bring the children over to Far Flamstead for a few days. I said I would bring Phoebe with me and that would mean having her young Thomas, for in these times I could not separate them-even if she had someone to leave him with.

“You should have a new maid now that Phoebe is married and has a baby,” said Angelet. “No one could serve me as Phoebe does. I shall keep her as long as I can. The children will be delighted to come to Flamstead. They are real little Royalists, I believe.” So it was arranged.

Richard came home in May. I purposely did not see him and he stayed only a few days. Angelet came to Longridge after he left. She looked radiant and I supposed that was due to his visit.

“I did not suggest that you come to see him, Bersaba,” she told me. “I should have, of course, if he had stayed longer. He is very uneasy. He says that things are not going well for the King’s Army. Men like Fairfax and Cromwell are making soldiers of their followers and their religious fervor gives them something which the professional soldier lacks. That’s what he said. When are you coming to Flamstead? You promised to bring the children, you know.”

So it was arranged and a few days later I with the children and Phoebe went to Far Flamstead.