Free A Measure of Light by Beth Powning Page B

Protestants and Catholics here with your diverging opinions on ‘works’ and ‘grace.’ Indeed, it has been well noted in England.”
    Anne looked steadily at Wheelwright, gauging him. “Aye, there is great controversy. Do not underestimate it. Governor Winthropwould silence me, for he doth believe that my teachings undermine his authority.”
    “Is it so? Truly?” Wheelwright’s voice quickened, startled by her rebuke.
    Mary watched steam rising from the trencher set between her and William, a fine column that broke and spun into coils before thinning, vanishing.
    We talk as we did in England
.
    She held Samuel on her lap. He reached for the steaming pudding and she snatched his hand. Spring birdsong was admitted by the half-opened door yet still they wore their unwashed woollens and sat pressed close as if from winter’s cold. She becomes angry, Mary thought, watching her friend. She is right, and knows it. The more they try to silence her, the more steely she will become.
    Anne circled the spoon around the bottom of the pot. “I say that those graced by the Holy Spirit do apprehend it within themselves. Therefore they
cannot
be preached to by those who do not evidence such grace. I believe some of our preachers are not graced.”
    Wheelwright’s fingers tightened on his spoon. “Indeed.”
    “Nor do I believe that perfect behaviour evidences sanctification. The governor says that I undermine both the preachers and the laws that do insist upon righteousness.”
    Will Hutchinson watched his wife, and then slid an appeasing glance at Wheelwright, as if making an offering. “My wife hath set fear in some who need a check on their power. The clergy here have set themselves up like the bishops.”
    “These are not my motives, Will, and you do know it.” Anne spoke quickly, annoyed. “I speak my mind and there are many who show interest.”
    A large pewter mug of ale was passed around the table, finger-warmed. Each person turned it slightly before drinking. Will Hutchinson drank, then caught William Dyer’s eyes as he passed it to him. Marysaw the two men—both merchants, neither with religious passion—share a look.
Will you speak or shall I?
it said, and her William sat forward on his chair and leaned towards the newcomers.
    “The issue of works and grace, do you see, is setting a divide between the people, for it becomes a matter of power—whom the people will trust and whom they will follow. There are the ministers and magistrates on the one hand; the merchants on the other. We merchants support Anne Hutchinson. In recent weeks, the General Court hath seen fit to tell us how much we may pay our workers. How much we may charge for our goods. My profits have dwindled overnight.”
    He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, passed the mug carefully to the old lady on his right.
    “You will find that although there is no clergy on the General Court,
only church members can stand for office
. Do you understand?”
    Wheelwright nodded. “Church and state.”
    “Aye,” William said. “When we left, Archbishop Laud and King Charles were hand in hand. Sometimes I do wonder what is the difference here. The General Court doth make its own rules, and they are not the rules of England. If unsure as to what constitutes a crime or how to mete punishment, the court asks advice of the church elders. Or of the ministers.”
    “And which ministers hold your views, my sister?” Wheelwright asked.
    Anne finally took her place at the table. She sat with her hands in her lap looking out the window.
    Forty-five years old. And the Lord hath sent her fifteen babies
.
    The colony’s unsoftened light picked out silver hairs wisping from beneath Anne’s coif, laid shadows in the spidery lines beside her mouth. Yes, children he had sent, Mary thought—but some he had called home. Susan, Elizabeth, William. Heaven beckoned, heartbreaking in its beauty and its necessity.
    “Mr. Cotton,” Anne said, her voice suddenly