Saraband for Two Sisters

I was in the enclosed rose garden with the children, Angelet, and Phoebe when one of the servants came running out to us, his face set and tense so that I knew before he spoke that some further calamity had overtaken us.

He cried, “One of the hands from Longridge is here, mistress. He’s put out terrible.” I was filled with foreboding. I was still shocked from that night when they had brought home the dying Luke. I knew that anything could happen, and we must not be surprised how terrible it might be. Now I knew that something was happening at the farm and I secretly thanked God that my children were safe at Flamstead. I recognized the man at once. He was Jack Treble, one of the farm workers. When he saw me he shouted, “They have come, mistress. They be at the farm. They have laid it to waste, mistress. I hid myself and got away. It be finished, mistress ... finished.”

I said, “Be calm, Jack. Tell me what happened.”

“It was the Cavaliers, mistress. They come and I heard them shouting that it was the home of Luke Longridge, the pamphlet man, and that they would teach him a lesson.»

“Oh, God,” I cried out involuntarily, “he has already had his lesson.»

“Reckon they did know it, mistress. They laid waste the place ... and they be... dead dead, mistress... them as tried to stop them.”

“Mistress Longridge?” I began.

“I wouldn’t know, mistress. I was hid there in the shrubbery ... close to the ground ... not daring to move ... never knowing whether they’d find me like. I daren’t move. I heard ‘em... . The noise were shocking and the cries, mistress. There be terrible slaughter there of them that tried to protect the farm. They be gone now, though. It happened this morning. I lay there a good half hour, mistress, not daring to come out lest they should see me and put an end of me. Then I came here. I walked. There were no horses left. They took the horses. They took everything they could lay their hands to.”

I said, “I shall go back.”

Angelet had joined me. “No,” she said. “You mustn’t go back. What if they’re there?”

Tm going,” I said. “I have to find Ella.”

They tried to stop me. Poor Phoebe was in a panic. Her Thomas Greer would have been there.

“Why didn’t he come with Jack Treble?” she kept saying, and the tragic answer to that seemed clear enough.

Of one thing I was determined. I was going to Longridge. Angelet insisted on coming with me and I could not dissuade her, so together we set out, taking with us two of the grooms.

What desolation met our eyes! Was this Longridge Farm? It stood there, as though boldly defying the intruder, but when one drew near the destruction was obvious. Before the shell of the house lay the bodies of two of the farm workers. I recognized Thomas Greer and I went to him at once. He was dead. My poor, poor Phoebe! Ella was lying on the farmhouse floor among the wreckage. In her hand was an ax. She must have tried to defend her home. Poor brave Ella! How futile she would be against those soldiers!

The cask of ale was turned on its side and its contents had run all over the kitchen floor. They had broken everything they could-the beams had been torn down-only the walls of the house still stood.

I knelt by Ella and a wild anger filled me. I hated them all-all those who had killed first Luke and then Ella. I wanted no more of this conflict. “How can anything matter when it is achieved through this?” I cried, and I felt sick with my pain and anger.

I could not mount the stairs, for they had been torn up. There was a hole in the ceiling through which a bedpost hung. This farmhouse, the home of Longridges for generations, had been destroyed in a single day.

Angelet was beside me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Bersaba, my dearest sister,” she said, sobbing.

I put my arms about her to comfort her, but she went on sobbing while I looked about at the destruction of my home.

I said, “The children are safe. Let us be thankful for that. My husband is dead, my sister in marriage is dead, my home is in ruins, but thank you, oh, merciful God, for leaving me my children.”

“You must not blaspheme, Bersaba.”

“No!” I cried. “I must stand by and thank God for mercies received. Is that it? My husband is recently dead. Do you understand that?”

She said, “You were always angry in your grief.”

“Oh, the cruelty of it,” I mourned. “You see, Angelet, I have lost my husband. I have lost my home. ... I have lost so much that was dear to me.»

“You have me, Bersaba,” she said, “and while I am here you will always have a home.”

I turned to her then and I believe I was weeping too, though I was not conscious of it.

She said, “Come away, my dearest sister, come away with me. I am going to take you hack with me. Your home will be my home. We shall never be parted unless it is your wish.”

Then she led me away and I returned with her to Far Flamstead.

As we crossed the threshold she said, “Oh, this is cruel... cruel.”

And I was the one who answered firmly: “It is war.”

ANGELET

Fear in the House