James nodded and said nothing. Sir William shifted in his chair and bowed his head, as if in thought.
“Did he make a godly end?” the minister asked.
Ned glanced at James, but answered for both of them. “Aye, he did. There were thousands watching in the street outside the palace, and they told us that he spent the night in prayer. He stepped out bravely enough, put his head on the block, and signaled that he was ready. The public executioner beheaded him with one blow.”
There was a sigh all around the church. Somewhere in the gallery a woman was weeping.
“God will judge him now,” James said. “And that is a court to which we all must come.”
“Amen,” the minister said. “And now I have to call the banns for a marriage for the third and final time.”
The two men, Alinor’s brother and her lover, turned without looking at each other again and Ned took up his place at the back of the church among the workingmen, and James stood beside Sir William’s chair.
“I publish the banns for the marriage of Alys Reekie, spinster of this parish, and Richard Stoney, bachelor of Sidlesham,” the minister said.
Alinor felt Alys’s hand come into hers, and she squeezed it and found a smile for her daughter.
“This is the third and final time of asking.”
There was a little ripple of interest and pleasure from the congregation, and young Richard Stoney, attending St. Wilfrid’s to hear his banns called, craned around and looked up into the women’s gallery and winked at Alys.
“If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it.”
“Does anyone ever stand up and declare an impediment?” Alys whispered to her mother.
“No,” Alinor replied. “Who would try to make a bigamous marriage on Sealsea Island where everyone knows everyone else’s business?”
“The marriage will take place next Sunday,” the minister declared.
As they left the church Alinor knew that she must go and pay her respects to Sir William and meet James before the curious gaze of the entire congregation. With Alys and Rob on either side of her, and Ned following reluctantly behind, she walked across the frosty grass and curtseyed to her landlord, keeping her eyes fixed on his expressionless face.
“Mrs. Reekie.” He nodded at her and at Ned, but had a smile for Rob. “How now, Robert?”
“I’m well, sir. Going to Chichester tomorrow.”
“All arranged, is it?” Sir William looked over his shoulder to Mr. Tudeley.
“Yes, the boy’s expected, and I will go myself to pay his fee tomorrow, when his mother signs his articles.”
“We’re very grateful,” Alinor said.
“And here’s your patient. D’you think he’s looking well?”
Alinor dropped a curtsey to James and finally turned towards him. She felt physically shocked by the warmth of his smile and the intensity of his gaze. She felt frozen as if she could not step towards him and fall into his arms, nor could she run away. She swallowed, but she could not speak. She felt his baby heavy in her belly and could not believe that he did not know that he had fathered the child that she carried. She wrapped her shawl closely about her as if to shield her swelling belly, and said, “I’m glad to see you look so well, Mr. Summer.”
“Hello, Mrs. Reekie,” he said. “I am glad to see you again. And how is my pupil?”
Rob grinned. “Keeping up my Latin,” he said. “Sir William lets me borrow books from his library. Have you seen Walter, sir?”
“He’s very grand now that he’s at Cambridge,” James laughed. “But I hope to visit him after term starts.”
“And you’re to be married?” His lordship nodded at Alys. “Young man from Sidlesham parish?”
Alys turned and beckoned to Richard, and he came up and made a respectful bow to Sir William. Alinor noticed the carefully graded deference: Richard Stoney was the son of a freeholder, not a Peachey tenant, and he would never forget the difference.
“Wish you happy,” Sir William said without much interest. He nodded to Mr. Tudeley to give Alys a shilling, and then turned back to Rob: “You can come for dinner.” Pointedly he did not extend the invitation to Alinor or Alys, who were out of favor as the women in the household of a roundhead. Clearly, he was not going to even acknowledge Ned, who stood to one side, hat in hand, stubbornly not bowing.
“Thank you,” Rob said easily. “And I will write to you, sir, when I start work at Chichester.”
His lordship nodded and turned away, ignoring Ned. James glanced back for one look at Alinor, and then followed his lordship, while the congregation, released from deference, crowded around Ned to ask him more about the trial, about the execution, and about the parliament, and what about London itself, now that it was a royal city without a king anymore?
