CHAPTER EIGHT

 

So now a lion from the forest will attack them; a wolf from the desert

will pounce on them.

(Jeremiah 5:6a)

 

A few days later, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. Standing on the other side was Captain Maynard. I couldn’t fathom why he would visit us so suddenly, but nevertheless, I welcomed him into our humble cottage.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I said pleasantly.

“Actually, um, I’m not here on a social call, Mrs. Keeney. I’ve come to deliver some very distressing news—news that may likely devastate Master John.”

“Oh, my,” I replied, suddenly taken aback. “Please have a seat. I’ll get you some refreshment.”

“I really don’t have much time. I need to sail with the evening tide. I’ve put off coming here until I could muster up my courage. I take it John isn’t here?”

“Oh, no, he’s working at the mill.”

“I see. Well, then, I’ll just have to give you the news and be on my way.” Captain Maynard seemed in a hurry to leave, but not in any rush to tell me the news he had come to impart.

“Well, Captain, tell me what’s happened?”

“It’s Lady Elizabeth.”

“She’s not ill?” I asked, sudden alarm sharpening my voice.

“No, not exactly. You see, Mrs. Keeney, well, she was murdered about a week ago.”

Abruptly, my head began to swim, and I collapsed into the chair opposite Captain Maynard at the table.

“Murdered?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How did it happen, Captain?”

“Well, she went out riding and never came back. Sir Thomas, William, and that stable boy finally went out to look for her and found her horse grazing in the woods. He had evidently wandered quite far afield, and it took them about an hour to finally locate her.” I’d never seen Captain Maynard so distraught. As he related the tale, his eyes filled with tears and he tried in vain to blink them back.

“How do they know she was murdered?”

“Well, uh, her petticoat was wrapped around her throat. She was strangled.”

“Oh, my, Lord. How am I ever to tell John?”

“Would you like me to delay my sailing until tomorrow and tell him myself?”

“No, I’ll do it. This is simply going to overwhelm him.”

“I know he loved his mother very much. We all did. But that isn’t all the news. You see, Miss Fionna, when she heard the news, suffered an apoplexy. She still hadn’t regained consciousness when I sailed for Leiden, so I don’t know her condition at this time.”

“My goodness,” was all I could say. I was speechless with shock and sympathy. Lady Elizabeth had been like a mother to me.

“Well, I’ll go on back to the ship now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, well, thank you Captain for coming all this way to tell us. Please convey to Sir Thomas and the rest that they are in our prayers.”

“I will, ma’am.” The crusty old sea captain started for the door and then turned back. “You’ll go easy on Master John, won’t you, ma’am?”

“Of course, Captain. I’ll soften the blow as much as I can.”

Telling John the distressing news was the most difficult thing I’d ever had to do, and he took it very hard. For a couple of hours, he just sat and stared at the fireplace, not saying a word. Finally, he got up and went outside. I started to follow, and then I heard him crying and decided to just leave him alone in his misery. He would come to me when he was ready to be comforted. Instead, I knelt by the fire and prayed for my husband, my children, and myself.

I had lain awake most of the night, tossing, unable to sleep. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I’d been sleeping fitfully for several nights, and even without a mirror, I knew my eyes were puffy and blood-shot. Swinging my legs over the bed, I sat still thinking of the past few months. Ever since we had come to Leiden, my life had been miserable. There had been brief moments of bliss, like the births of my children, but the majority of the time, I wasn’t really happy. John’s meager salary at the mill just wasn’t enough to live on. Our day-to-day existence was expensive in this city where so many were wealthy, but most were not. My ineptness at housekeeping worried me, despite all Bridget’s attempts to teach me what I lacked. Most of the time, I felt like a wretched failure. With four children to care for and very little money with which to do it, it seemed I was fighting a losing battle—futilely beating my head against the proverbial wall.

A scraping sound near the door caught my attention, and I turned to see a small, gray mouse nibbling at the bit of crusty bread I’d left for her. I’d seen that she was a nursing mother, as I was, and every night made certain to leave something out. It gave me some satisfaction to watch the mouse sit up and hold the bread crumb in its tiny paws, nibbling it and turning it around and around. The beady eyes were fixed on me, and I wondered whether it would be possible to tame her to come to my hand for food. I had always had a fondness for small creatures. Now a new thought leaped into my mind: We face the same problems, Mother Mouse, you and I. We both have to worry about getting something to eat and taking care of our little ones. But you probably don’t have any bad memories, as I do, and you certainly don’t worry about the future.

I rose and watched the little mother scurry under my clothes chest, fearful of someone who wouldn’t hurt her for anything in the world. Then I put on my robe and left the room as quietly as possible, so as to not awaken John. I passed through the keeping room and stepped outside into the moonlight. Overhead the stars were brilliant in the sky, faint pulses of light. A night bird uttered a melancholic call, making a strange falling rhythm on the air. A wave of depression beset me and I had the distressing notion that nothing in life was good. Usually a cheerful person, full of hope and wonder at the things I saw, the future loomed before me like a dark phantom of uncertainty. Even the shadows in the sky and the patterns of the trees glimmering through the breaking dawn couldn’t cheer me. I began to wish I’d never come here to this period in history, never intruded into the lives of these people, never come to love them. I fingered the golden orb under my night rail.

My life in the future had been easy, and even after coming to England, living had been simple and innocent. But now I lived with overpowering feelings from deep within my soul. For the first time in my life, I thought about death and pondered what it would be like to leave this world to go and live with God; to be in a world that was pure and untarnished—at peace.

A few times in my life, I’d encountered people who seemed so certain of their purpose in life. I envied those individuals. But lately, I felt as if invisible forces were moving me about as a stream pushes a leaf this way and that way, up and down through the swells. I surveyed the world around me and saw the wealth of the wicked and the poverty of the good, and wondered how God could be content, while His people suffered. I’d never been one to shrink from hard times, but I feared that I would be pushed aside or would live out my life in a meaningless manner, making no impression on the world about me, shriveling up like a flower roasted by a blazing, merciless sun. Why am I feeling this way? I wondered. Is God punishing me for some sin? Have I been too proud? Is He bringing adversity upon me to humble me? Or has some evil invaded my soul—is Satan tempting me to forsake God and die, like Job’s wife had encouraged her husband to do? Why, why, why?

The sudden cries of my infants startled me back to reality. The dawn had come. My family needed me. I stood up, wiping my eyes and turned back into the house. Determining to be more thankful and trusting, I shrugged and stuffed the unpleasant feelings. Oh, well, God will supply—He always does. It was time to begin breakfast and take care of my little family the best I could.

One evening a couple of days later, John came home from work subdued and restless. That evening’s Bible study and prayers were rushed through. He appeared to be brooding about something, hardly speaking at all. Finally, I could take the silence no longer. Tucking the children into bed, I came up behind him as he sat in his favorite chair, and placed my hands upon his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles of his neck. He sat before the fire staring into the red-gold flames.

“What in the world is wrong with you? You’ve been pensive and thoughtful all evening.”

“There’s something I need to discuss with you, Sarah, but I fear you may not like it much,” he said, looking up at me. “Please sit down, won’t you?”

“Certainly, please tell me.” I lowered myself into the adjoining chair and absently picked up my mending, giving my hands something to do to prevent me from wringing them.

“Since the death of Pastor John, I’ve been having a difficult time at work. They’ve begun to criticize my tasks, which I thought I was performing well. But more importantly, Sarah, since we came here I’ve noticed that the morality here in Leiden is very loose. You don’t see it as much as I do, me being out in the city every day.”

“What do you mean?” I put down the cloth, sticking the needle in well to prevent it falling out. It was the only one I had left, and they were just too expensive to lose.

“All the time, I see young women hanging all over older men. I see scantily-dressed ladies (if you can call them that) standing at nearly every cross-street, calling the passing men to come in unto them. And the young boys of the city carouse until all hours of the night. I asked some of the men I work with about these things, and they said that life in Holland is relaxed, with none of the restrictions of other places. The philosophy is that amusement is healthy and there’s nothing wrong with gambling, drinking and, well, other things that are too sensitive for your ears. I’m beginning to wonder whether this is the best place to raise our children, Sarah. I’m beginning to believe that maybe we should go home.”

“Go home?” I said, suddenly alarmed. “How can we go home? You’re wanted by Bishop Laud.”

“Well, I think that perhaps enough time has passed that we might be able to return. And I promise, and I really mean this, not to call attention to myself by writing any more pamphlets. Besides, with Mother gone, Father will need his family around him.”

So, it was decided. With that promise—we were going home. Part of me was jubilant and euphoric, but another part was nervous and apprehensive. John penned a letter to his father requesting that Captain Maynard come fetch us. The Hart arrived on November 3^rd and we said tearful goodbyes to Bridget and the families who’d become very dear friends.

Despite the time of year, the crossing was uneventful and we arrived back in King’s Lynn two days later. With money his father lent him, we purchased a home in town on Jews Lane. It had formerly been a boarding house called The Greyhound, and sported four bedrooms, a parlor, dining room and a large kitchen. There was space in the back for a garden, and I quickly replanted my precious tulip bulbs along the walkway out front.

John found work on the docks and also helped his father part-time with the accounts for the shipping business. Sir Thomas tried to get his son to captain one of his merchant ships, but John just wasn’t into sailing, and didn’t want to be away from his family for long periods of time.

A couple of times a week, Agnes would visit me, usually on market days. She and William had finally gotten married while we were in Leiden, and it was nice to get to know my new sister-in-law better. I found her to be pleasant, albeit a little superstitious and overly concerned with Satan and evil doers. I was uncertain whether William had let her in on “our little secret” about my origins. I made a mental note to ask him when I saw him next.

One market day, Agnes and I were browsing the various stalls. The streets were crowded as we pushed through the jostling crowd. The sun was shining and it was a warm spring day. High-pitched voices of the vendors echoed through the streets, crying out the merits of their wares. Many stalls provided a riot of color with green vegetables neatly stacked on tables and yellow squashes bordered by plump red berries. Suddenly Agnes shrieked and pulled me into an alley.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” I said testily, pulling my hand away.

“I can’t believe it! I just saw Jeremy Tibbets standing in a doorway across the street.”

“Oh, Agnes, you must be mistaken. He wouldn’t dare show his face around here again. We know he’s in league with Bishop Laud. And he knows that we’re on to him.”

“I don’t care what you say,” she persisted. “I know it was him. Go and see for yourself. He’s standing just across the street in the doorway of the lace-maker’s shop.”

Slowly advancing to the head of the alley, I peered across the crowded street, trying to see between the people carrying baskets and parcels. No one was there.

“There’s not a soul over there, Agnes. You probably just saw someone who looked like him.”

“Oh, no,” she insisted. “It was him, alright—the devil’s spawn that he is.”

“Well, whoever it was is gone now. Let’s finish our shopping and go on home.”

A few minutes later, Agnes and I were standing at the fruit vendors stall. Agnes had picked up some apples and was just placing them into my basket, when she suddenly shrieked again. The ripe red fruit hit the ground at my feet and rolled away out of reach. Seeing the horrified look on her face, I spun around and found myself face to face with Jeremy Tibbets, nonchalantly leaning against the stall behind me chewing on a piece of straw.

“Good morning, Mrs. Keeney,” he said, a little too sweetly, brazenly looking me up and down. “How have you been? It’s certainly been a long time. I daresay you’re just as beautiful as you were the last time I beheld you.”

Suddenly at a loss for words, I stammered out some pleasantries.

“And how is your fine husband?”

“He’s….um….well. What are you doing here?” I blurted out, recovering myself.

“Business, just business,” he replied, sticking the piece of straw between his teeth and winking. Looking around me, he doffed his hat and quipped: “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your alluring companion.”

“Oh,” I said. “This is Agnes, William’s wife. Uh .we really must be going now. My children….”

“Oh, you have children?” he asked. “How very nice. I was so dismayed to hear of the untimely demise of the elder Mrs. Keeney. What a shame no one has been arrested for her murder. How awful to be strangled by your own undergarment. You will give your father-in-law my condolences, won’t you?”

Completely shocked now at his fresh manner and off-handed candor, I hurriedly said our goodbyes. Agnes and I quickly returned home, taking a round-about way in case he should follow us. Rushing into the house, I sent the maid (who’d been staying with the children) upstairs to draw all the shades, and swiftly lock all the doors.

“Agnes, you need to get to the manor as quickly as you can,” I said, collapsing into my rocker by the hearth.

“I’m afraid, Sarah. What if he follows me and accosts me on the road?”

“You’re right. You can’t leave now. We’ll just have to wait until John gets back. He can take you to the manor. When is William coming home from Spain?”

“He should be here tomorrow or the next day, why?” Agnes said, as she sat across from me wringing her hands.

“Because we can’t stay here. Jeremy Tibbets has obviously been waiting for us to return to England. Now he’ll high-tail it back to London straight to the Bishop. John and I have to leave this place.”

“Oh, dear,” Agnes cried, burying her face in her hands. “Whatever are we going to do? Oh, why, oh, why, has this happened?” She was quickly becoming distraught, so I forced her to lie down, while I frantically tried to think of what to do.

John arrived home an hour later to find me pacing back and forth in front of the window. I told him of the meeting with Jeremy Tibbets. He advised caution, but agreed with me that we definitely had to leave King’s Lynn.

“I’ll speak with Father, when I take Agnes home,” John said. “William will be here tomorrow, I think. As far as I can see, our only recourse is to go to the community of believers in Scrooby. If we can get out of here without being seen, we should have a chance of reaching safety.”

“Scrooby!” I said, jumping to my feet. “John, that’s a four-day journey from here. How am I to travel with four children that far and two of them only babies?”

John assured me that everything would be fine, but I was still hesitant. Going to Jesus in prayer, I asked for the strength to do what needed to be done. When I said my final “Amen,” I felt much better. “Thank you, Lord,” I said, looking upwards.

By the time John returned from the manor, I was relatively calm and clear-headed. Having spoken with Sir Thomas, John was certain that going to Scrooby was the most sensible course of action. I spent most of that night and all of the next day packing our belongings. Traveling with small children was going to be a challenge. John made arrangements with the cooper to purchase a large wagon to transport our things. We would leave under cover of darkness the following night and hope that Jeremy Tibbets had gone to inform the Bishop, and that he hadn’t left anyone behind to spy on us.