Free Take Courage by Phyllis Bentley

sheep to show that they belong to different flocks. And everything which happened, in Bradford or in great affairs of state, seemed as it were to deepen the brand, to make the difference between the two flocks, the two kinds of men, appear more clearly. In our town, as it chanced, the magistrates about this time ordered that a stop should be put to the cockfighting and gaming in the Turls on Sunday afternoons. This was in truth a good and necessary thing, for the behaviour there had grown scandalously unmannerly and an offence to decent citizens, and in other times it would have passed as such; but many who were ill-disposed to the Puritan persuasion chose to look on the order as a prim puritanical invasion of the customs of merry England. Mr. Ferrand was one of those who thought so, for he loved all games and sports and wagering; my father and Mr. Thorpe took the other side. This, though it was but a small matter in comparison with the great affairs then carrying in Parliament, being local, loomed large in Bradford minds, and made men more decided in their notions of Puritans and Arminians, Parliament and King, respectively. And so with all things, large or small; the cut of a coat, the depth of a band, no less than the conduct of the war or the predestination of the soul, or the cruel sentences of the Starchamber, seemed to be matters to be decided by political argument.
    As I look back over the years I see pictures of us in those times, myself sitting a little distance away beside Mrs. Ferrand and Mrs. Thorpe, listening in growing uneasiness to the men as their voices rose, Mr. Ferrand growing loud and overbearing, Mr. Thorpe red in the face and very homely in speech, my father striking his forefinger resolutely on the table to emphasise his points, striving to make his voice heard between them. It became little pleasure for the families to be together, for we could not keep the men off politics, nor turn their discourse when they had once embarked on those topics. I had always looked forward with joyous anticipation to our family meetings, because of Francis; but now I so often returned from them distressed and uneasy that I began really to dread them, and whenever Mr. Ferrand was present I longed for the moment when the gathering should break up and each family withdraw. Too often it did so with an angry man in its midst. Next day the three would be sorry for what they had said, and when they met again would make apologies in their several fashions, my father very clearly and graciously, Mr. Thorpe in a discomfited mutter, Mr. Ferrand in a confused bellow. But as time went on and the division between them grew, they began to think each other less agreeable persons than they had previously judged. Mr. Ferrand, as I could see, began to regard his brother-in-law and my father as tiresome fanatics, sound at heart doubtless and good fellows in the main, but led astray by too much prating; while my father and Mr. Thorpe were drawn close by their joint opinion of Mr. Ferrand as a man warm-hearted doubtless but stupid, with no soul above bowls. There was as yet no open breach between them, but they did not seek each other’s company as frequently as hitherto, and Mr. Ferrand especially began to go elsewhere for his talk, being often seen with the Tempests of Boiling Hall.
    So it came about that I had much greater pleasure in Francis’s visits to my home, than in mine to his.
    One evening when Francis was sitting with us as usual, and as usual strumming on his lute, there came a suddenthunderous knocking on the door. David ran to open it, when in rushed the Thorpes’ apprentice, Lister, his red hair flying, his freckles mottling his face very disagreeably, his skin being white with excitement. He cried wildly:
    â€œBuckingham is murdered!”
    â€œWhat!” cried my father, laying down his pipe.
    We all dropped silent at once and sat staring. Rapidly Lister told us the news which had just reached Bradford, that