“The devil I don’t,” Archie said.
*
“Family,” said the minister that Sabbath as he turned the hourglass to begin his sermon, “is God’s sacred gift to all of us, and one we must let never be divided.”
Archie coughed, and Barbara hushed him.
They went every Sabbath to the South Leith church. On rare occasions, if one of the lads was ill or someone needed tending in the way that Lily had the day she’d first arrived, Barbara would stay at home to care for them, but otherwise they all went as one family, for the church did not allow parishioners to miss the service without reason, and their searchers went each Sabbath through the streets to find those who defied the rules, so that they could be called to answer and repent, and pay their fines.
Henry always carried Lily’s church stool for her, though she carried her own cushion to make sitting through the sermon less uncomfortable. But she did like the church—it had soaring great stone windows that gave her something interesting to look at while the ministers were speaking. They had two ministers, who led the services by turns. The senior one was Mr. Kay, who sometimes smiled at Lily when she passed him at the church door, but she did not feel that she could speak to him the way she had to Mr. Cant.
He preached well, though.
Today, this final Sabbath of the month of June, he took his sermon from the book of Timothy, and framed it round the verse beginning: “I exhort, therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life…”
And this he turned to an impassioned speech of thanksgiving for King James and the queen and their new prince, born earlier this month at London. “When the king was yet the Duke of York, and his first wife did live, God rest her soul, and their two daughters, Princess Anne and Princess Mary, were but small, the duke and duchess did convert their minds and souls unto the Catholic church,” said Mr. Kay. “And yet our late King Charles perceived the danger of his brother’s path, and did prevail upon him to allow the princesses to be raised in the Church of England as Episcopalians. And so it was done. And now we see both princesses are grown and happy in their lives and have held to their faith, and King James gave to them his blessing to be wed to princes who are also Protestant, which proves he is no bigot. Let us pray God guide him to do likewise for this newborn prince, Prince James, and raise him not a Catholic but a true Episcopalian. Then will these wars and protests end, and we shall see our nation and our family reunited.”
Archie thought this most unlikely, and he said as much while they walked home after the sermon, under skies that, bright with sunshine, cast long shadows at their feet. “The Presbyterians hold different views from Mr. Kay, and they are over bold now they’ve got their own meeting house.”
At the beginning of last year King James had passed an act that cleared away the old laws persecuting those of other faiths, and allowing Catholics, Quakers, and those Presbyterians who were considered moderate and met not in fanatical field-meetings or conventicles but only in their meeting houses to practice their own religion. All the old oaths that had touched upon religion were dispensed with, and to hold an office in the country all a person had to do was swear allegiance to the king, so help him God—but how he answered to God was left to his conscience.
“’Tis a grave mistake, this freedom of religion,” Archie said.
Walter, who had studiously copied the king’s declaration printed up at Edinburgh, summarized its plan. “The king believes the great divides in our religions these past years are wasting Scotland’s harvests, playing havoc with our country’s trade, and bringing us to ruin, turning all of us to vengeful, sniping folk who’d rather keep within our factions than live Christian lives or show our neighbors charity. He thinks by giving equal rights to all, he will bring peace.”
Archie dismissed this. “Presbyterians don’t want peace. ’Tis why they hold their greatest meetings in the fields, like nests of adders, and like adders ye may think they’ve slithered down into their hole and gone away, but mark my words, lad. They’ve been lying this whole time beneath our feet, and they’ll rise up to bite us when they can, and then we’ll feel their poison.” He spat, feelingly, upon the stones.
Barbara’s hand squeezed Lily’s. “Shall we go and see the ships?”
They often walked down to the Shore on afternoons after the service when the day was fair, the two of them alone, to watch the sails and smaller boats and to imagine where each cargo might be bound. As fond as Lily was of Archie and the lads, she liked it best to be with Barbara.