A Crowning Mercy by Bernard Cornwell and Susannah Kells

Author:Bernard Cornwell and Susannah Kells
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2006-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

“‘Clouds and darkness are round about him: Righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. A fire goeth before him, and burneth up his enemies round about.’”

The voices of young men were strong in the dusk, chanting the psalm. The preacher, Faithful Unto Death Hervey, stood on the wagon-loading platform of Lazen’s mill and raised his hands at the troops in the mill field. “Louder! Let the enemy hear you! Louder!”

The voices surged. The men grinned. They were happy, united by the metrical beat of the psalm, confident that the Lord was with them.

Ebenezer Slythe, standing where the great water-wheel clanked and dripped, its blades weed-grown and dank, listened to the noise. It uplifted him, exalted him, made him know that God was truly with Parliament. He liked being with the army, liked the smell of leather and horses, the sight of strong men. He was feared, as a man who worked for Parliament should be feared, and no man mocked him for his shrunken, twisted leg.

He limped into the miller’s house, the sound of the psalm still filling his head with glory and righteousness. The girl, a miserable wretch who had been found in the woods, smiled at him.

“Get out!” He scowled. He needed her at night, but her fawning wish for approval annoyed him at other times. She was a sin, of course, but Faithful Unto Death had assured him that some men were so burdened by God’s responsibilities that they were granted special privileges by heaven; did David not have Bathsheba? Within days he would discard her, because in days this siege would be over.

He sat at his table and reflected on the coming success. He had sent two men into the castle, gunners who were ostensibly deserters, but who were in fact sworn to him. They would fire the castle’s magazine at their first chance. They were ordered to do it when the morning trumpets sounded in the Roundhead lines and Ebenezer prayed that they would do it soon. Let it be tomorrow! He had waited with excitement this very morning, praying that the great flame would explode over his enemies, but the dawn had come as usual. Colonel Fuller, the man sent by Grenville Cony to take over the siege from Lord Atheldene, had given his opinion that perhaps the two men had been detected and imprisoned. Ebenezer had given Fuller his coldest smile. “Is the Lord not on their side?”

It was the clinching argument. Colonel Fuller had not been able to reply.

Ebenezer had discovered power, and the knowledge of it filled him with the same glorious excitement as the chanting of the psalm. Even Colonel Fuller, a hard, grim soldier who fought with a sword in his right hand and a Bible in his left, treated him with deference. Fuller had let Ebenezer reply to the letter of truce from the castle, had acquiesced humbly when Ebenezer had dictated how the castle was to be taken. Ebenezer spoke with Sir Grenville’s authority, and

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