Free The Monmouth Summer by Tim Vicary

dialect: "'Er be proper fine sermon, too, John, I says! 'Tis a shameful pity no-one thought to tell the boy 'is King do worship in Rome now, bain't it?" The vicar had not quite understood the accent, or known who spoke, but the laughter all around had destroyed his sermon. He had fumbled his way pitifully through the rest of the service, blushing, painfully aware that the congregation were not with him, but not knowing what to do.
    Israel Fuller knew what to do. As his powerful cadences thundered towards their conclusion, Ann saw the fervour smouldering in the eyes of everyone about her, and a grim, solemn look in the eyes of the older men, as though they were ready to stride out and rebuild the world of their youth, the Commonwealth of Cromwell's time, brushing aside all who opposed them. There was no muttering, yawning, or shuffling of feet here; the younger men - Tom, and Simon beside her - were as eager as the rest.
    Their ferocity frightened Ann. She looked for William Clegg - her godfather, the man who had made the remark in church this morning. Surely he would not look so grim, so solemn? A poor weaver, with a wife and eight children to feed, William Clegg was a thin, wiry, nervous man, with a threadbare coat and grey shoulder-length hair. The restless blue eyes in his wrinkled face missed little of what went on around him and were always ready to sparkle with amusement at what they saw. Nothing ever seemed to depress him; his quick tongue was always ready with a joke that had his little round wife holding her sides with laughter, and there was often a cheerful, light-hearted gathering outside his tiny, crowded cottage on summer evenings. Yet he was a religious man for all that, and now he stood stern as any man, arms folded, intently listening, apparently filled with as resolute and righteous indignation as the rest as he heard of the justice of their cause.
    "For the Lord in His great wisdom hath hardened the heart of Pharoah so that His children should see the usurper for what he was, and resolve never to ruled by such a tyrant again! And so, brethren, just as Moses came to the children of Israel and led them against their oppressor, so now, our leader shall come to us. And when that day comes, we shall cast out these abominators, and uproot this second Pharoah as Moses did the first! He shall quail before the might of God our Father, and we, the chosen people of the Lord, shall live in righteousness in this land once more!"
    The end of the sermon was met by a deep-throated growl of approval. Tom turned to Ann, a smile of fierce elation shining in his eyes; but as he spoke Ann saw the oddly troubled, anxious look of her father beyond him, and in her surprise she did not hear what Tom said.
    "And now, brethren, I ask you all to join with me in a psalm."
    A few bent and well-worn prayer books or Bibles came out of coat pockets, but most did not need them. The barn rang with a hearty, joyful rendering of the vengeful 94th psalm, so loud that Ann thought it could have been heard as far as Taunton; yet the old timbers of the barn and the leaves of the wood outside absorbed the sound, so that - to those who were listening no more than half a mile away - the loud fervour of fifty throats sounded like little more than the distant lowing of cattle, or the surge of foam on the shore.
    When the psalm was over, Ann and Simon gathered around the preacher, with their father and a group of the older and more respected men.
    "A fine sermon, Israel," said John Spragg. A stocky, heavily built stonemason, his round, open face came little above Israel Fuller's shoulder, but his strong voice rumbled from a chest as deep as any man's. "It sounds as though 'ee might have some more news about our leader's coming?"
    "I have that, John. Ask friend Roger here. The messenger of the Lord came to him."
    The others looked at Roger Satchell, a tall, lean man who was standing quietly by the haycart, chewing a piece of straw thoughtfully between his