Free The Lady's Slipper by Deborah Swift

that made his heart pound and his body turn cold. He saw Geoffrey’s eyes, full of horror and disgust, and he saw himself, as if from above, turning away in shame. Richard remembered, and shakily lurched to his feet. One by one they went to the table and signed. When it was his turn, Richard picked up the quill and read the words on the parchment.
    ‘We, the Society of Friends of Netherbarrow, do hereby testify that we are against all war and strife. We declare that we will not lend our support to any armed force, and that we will not take up arms or weapons against another for any cause whatsoever. We will seek to bring peace and truth to our dealings with others. We seek that all people might be brought into love and unity with God and with each other. On this Day of our Lord the 3rd September 1660. We state that our word is our truth, with the help of God. Amen.’
    He dipped the nib in the stoneware inkpot and rested it a moment on the edge of the pot to drain the excess ink. He took a moment to bring his attention to the act of signing. Resting his left hand on the parchment to hold it flat, he added his name carefully and deliberately. The nib made a scraping sound as he formed the curled capitals ‘R’ and ‘W’ of his name.
    As he stood up he moved a little too quickly and his sleeve trailed across the parchment. He glanced down and saw that his name was smudged. He picked up the blotter next to the paper and pressed it down, but his signature still looked ragged below the other neat names. He felt a pang of disappointment; he had spoiled the parchment. He was angry with himself–he should have taken more care. He sat back down heavily on the bench.
    Outside the window a drift of cloud eclipsed the moon. An owl screeched in the darkness. The farmer next to Richard, sensing some unknown disturbance in Richard’s demeanour, patted him on the shoulder in reassurance.
    When Richard’s mind quietened, he found Isaac saying that George Fox was shortly to be released from Lancaster Gaol, and was to speak on the hill above Lancaster town in three days’ time. A ‘threshing meeting’ was what they called it, where the good grain would be separated from the chaff. Anyone who wished to hear him speak should make their way there. There was great excitement in the company and much talking whilst people arranged to convene and travel together. Richard offered some of the farmhands and the cobbler a ride on his wagon. It looked like it would be a grand day out, with a big crowd of people. The women were already discussing foodstuffs for a shared repast, and neighbours they might invite, who might possibly be ‘convinced’ at the assembly.
    Richard had never heard Fox speak. He was supposed to be a man of great charisma, inspired but not a fanatic. Dorothy had been convinced at one of his meetings. Richard had great respect and admiration for Dorothy, who always seemed to be able to see past her own concerns and into a larger view. She was kind, no matter to whom she spoke. All people were equal to Dorothy, rags or royalty. To Richard she seemed the model of self-control and common sense.
    Richard had met Dorothy by accident when he was garrisoned with Cromwell’s men on her land. After one of the early skirmishes with the king’s army, he had brought one of the injured young men up to the Hall because it was obvious the soldier was going to die from his wounds. Richard had heard that Lady Swainson was a religious woman, that she was a Puritan, and hoped she would be able to do something with the dying man. The young man was screaming in pain from a wound to the stomach, and was obviously terrified. He was disturbing everyone else, and it seemed politic to take him away from the other young men who were raucous with drink and jubilant at the latest victory. The Puritan ethic of abstinence rarely held when there was something to celebrate. He and a friend had carried the soldier still screaming between them.
    Richard