When the Heavens Fall

by Gilbert, Morris

  “We’ll make out fine. I’ll raise a garden, and you’ll get well and be able to do your work again.”

  “The doctor said I never would be able to handle horses again. I’ll never ride again, he said.”

  Betsy was silent, for she was taking counsel of her own fears, but she tried her best to smile and said, “We’ve never starved, and we never will. God will take care of us.”

  The two were silent then. They knew each other so well, and now they felt the pressure of poverty crushing them.

  Suddenly a knock came at the door. Betsy looked up. “Who could that be, I wonder?” She got up and went to the door. When she opened it, she exclaimed, “Mr. Winslow!”

  “It’s me, Betsy. I came by to see how you and John were doing and your little ones.”

  “Well, sir, he’s been in considerable pain, and—” She broke off, unable to state the naked truth that they were facing a most bitter future. “Will you come in, sir?”

  “Yes. I want to have a word with you and John.” Betsy stood back as the tall man entered the room, pulled up a chair, and sat down beside her husband’s bed. His voice was cheerful as he spoke. “Well, John, how is it with you today?”

  “The pain’s not as bad, I don’t think, sir.”

  “Well, that’s good. We’ll just have to take good care of you, won’t we, Betsy?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m doin’ the best I can.”

  “How are your fine children doing?”

  “They are—they are doing fine, Master Winslow. Just a little—” She would not say “hungry”; that would sound like begging. She saw Winslow’s eyes go to the children in the corner, who were watching him, and then to the infant in her arms.

  He said quickly, “Well, I’ve decided that it’s time for Christmas to come a little early. Let me step outside. I’ve brought something.” He disappeared.

  As soon as he was gone, Betsy whispered, “What is he doing, John?”

  “I don’t know. He seems a changed man!”

  When Winslow came in, his arms were full of a huge ham and several bags. A short, grinning servant was behind him, also loaded with food.

  “Here, we’ve got some good things for you. A big, fat ham and some fresh fish. Two gallons of milk from the finest cows in England and plenty of fresh-baked bread. Put the stuff right over there on that table, Philemon.”

  “Yes, sir.” The servant loaded the table, and Brandon added his own burdens to it until it was stacked high. “Bring the rest of it in and just put it anywhere.”

  “Oh, sir,” John said, tears welling up in his eyes. “How kind it is of you to think of us.”

  “Well, why wouldn’t I think of you? After all, John, you were always kind to me when I was a lad just learning to ride. I remember all the lessons you gave me.”

  John Price spoke huskily. “It’s a godsend, sir, I must say. I’ve been fretting a bit.”

  “Fretting about what?”

  “The doctor said I won’t be able to do the things I used to do.”

  “Well, that comes to all of us. Sometimes it’s just age. I’ve found out I can’t do the things I could do when I was eighteen. But you’re going to be all right, John.”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not.” Price lifted his eyes, and the misery showed in them. “I don’t know what I’ll do, sir.”

  Brandon Winslow seemed to fill the small room, his voice full and reassuring. He smiled, and his blue eyes seemed to light up his face. “Well, I’ll tell you what you’ll do, John. You’ll go on working for the Winslows as you have for most of your life. Maybe you can’t do your old job at Stoneybrook so well, but there’s plenty of work to do around here. I’ll see to it that you have a good place as long as you want it. I’ve always thought well of you and Betsy and your fine children.” He got to his feet and said sternly, but with a good smile, “Now, I don’t want you worrying. If you need the doctor or if you need anything, send word to me. I’ll have Philemon, here, check on you too.” He put his hand out and took John’s thin one in his. “God’s going to take care of you, my dear friend. Don’t worry.” Turning, he put his hand out to Betsy. She felt the strength of his grip and lifted her eyes to his.

  “You take good care of this man and of these children. All right?”

  “Yes, sir. God bless you, sir.”

  “I’ll be seeing you then.”

  As soon as the door was closed, Betsy began to cry. “He’s not the same man.”

  “No, he’s not. Ever since he’s come back home again he’s been different. Everybody’s talkin’ about him. Been six months now, and he’s not the same at all. He never cared much for people except for himself.”

  “I was talking to Lady Heather. She was telling me,” Betsy said, “how he serves God now with all his heart.”

  “Well, I believe in miracles, and our miracle is Mr. Brandon Winslow. We’re going to be all right, girl.”

  “Didn’t I tell you God would take care of us?”

  Stuart looked out the window and saw Brandon speaking with some of the servants who worked with the horses and in the fields. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it, Heather?”

  Heather came over to stand beside him. They looked down as their son spoke to each man, clapped some of them on the shoulder, and then led them off. “It really is a miracle, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” she said.

  “All those prayers for all those long years. There were times, I must admit, I didn’t know if God was listening or not.”

  “He brought our son back to us, but he’s not the old Brandon. He’s got a heart in him now, hasn’t he? God is so real in his life.”

  “Yes. Quentin is ecstatic over the change. He’s noticed that Brandon hasn’t missed a Sunday in church and that he’s filled with the spirit of God. We’ve got a lot to be thankful for, Wife.”

  “Yes. We have. This our son was lost and now is found. I think there’s a scripture like that.” Both of them stood giving thanks to God for the new son that God had sent them.

  24

  Queen Mary had always been a headstrong woman, but now she was almost fanatical, and the cause of it was clearly Philip. Philip of Spain had married Mary—most understood except Mary herself—in a marriage of convenience. Philip cared nothing for Mary. He was interested only in making England part of the Spanish empire. He had succeeded beyond his dreams. Mary had never admitted to herself that Philip did not love her. She was infatuated with the man. Now in the middle of 1558 she was ill, and Philip had gone back to Spain. Rumor had it that he had given up on producing an heir. But before he left, he persuaded Mary to declare war on France. The struggle that was going on between Spain and France at that time was equal, but Philip had convinced Mary that England’s weight would give the advantage to Spain.

  Sir John Fairfax had grown to dread his visits to the queen. Now as he entered the room, he found Mary seated in a chair. He was shocked to see how ill she was and even more startled to see that she was wearing armor. Her bosom and waist were covered with burnished steel. Sir John was at a loss for words. He thought, This is madness. What can the woman be thinking?

  Mary’s voice was deep as any man’s. No matter how ill she became, always her voice was powerful and strong. “You’re surprised at this armor, are you not?” She tapped the steel with her fingertip. “I do it to protect myself. There are assassins who would kill me, and I must take every precaution.”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” Fairfax murmured. “I think that’s very wise indeed, and I’m sure that you have increased the guard.”

  “Yes. I’m guarded at all times.” Mary’s face was the texture of old parchment, sallow and mottled. The shadows under her eyes were deep, her thin lips were drawn tightly together, and her eyes were dull. She fastened them now on him and said, “I have bad news for you, for all of us, John.”

  “What is that, my queen?”

  “We have lost Calais.”

  “Yes, it is a great loss, Your Majesty.”

  �
�Yes. She’s been our possession for many, many years, and always we have taken great pride in this. But she has fallen now to the French.”

  “I grieved to hear it, Your Majesty.”

  Mary whispered, “Heaven has deserted us.” Then she fastened her eyes on John and whispered huskily, “When I die, when they open my body, they will find Calais written on my heart.”

  “We must withdraw our troops. It is a futile battle.”

  Mary nodded wearily. “So all of my counselors say, and it shall be done.”

  “Your Majesty, may I speak plainly?”

  Mary’s eyes suddenly grew wary. “As always, I’m willing to listen to you, John.”

  “I would like to persuade you to mitigate the executions of those who are not of the Catholic persuasion.”

  “I will never do that! God has put me on the throne of England to bring this nation back to the true faith, and I will do it as long as I live.”

  “But Your Majesty, some of those who are executed are very young. And some are old and infirm and really do not know their own mind.”

  Mary seemed not to hear his words. “I will bring this nation back to the true faith! Those who will not submit to the pope and to the Catholic religion must pay for their heresy.”

  John Fairfax argued for a time, but he saw how hopeless his argument was.

  As soon as he could take his leave, he took a deep breath. The woman has lost her power of thinking. She’s besotted with Philip, who cares nothing about her. Why is it she can’t see this? Depression gripped him as he thought of those who were already in the Tower and would soon die and those who would soon be arrested, as many were every day.

  Eden walked among the roses, stopping from time to time to inhale the fragrance. She bent over and peered at a toad seated underneath a large plant. “Well, how are you today, Master Toad? Caught lots of flies, have you?” The toad croaked and hopped away. As she straightened up, she thought of how her life had changed. Ever since she had knelt with Brandon and called on God, her entire world had been different. She had heard her father say once, “A fellow bends over to pick up something, and when he straightens up, the whole world is different.”

  She had not understood at the time; now she did. “So it’s been with me,” Eden whispered. Her life in Spain had never been happy, and the bitterness she’d felt about Brandon had made her life miserable since coming to England. But now she was filled with peace and joy. She had told her parents about finding God but had told them little about Brandon. She knew that at some point she would have to tell them of their love, but she felt it was too soon.

  Time had passed slowly, but she and Brandon had written to each other over the long months since they parted. He had said, “I long to come to you, dearest, but our time isn’t yet. God is doing a work in my life, and in yours also, from what you say. Let’s rejoice in that and have faith that soon we’ll be ready for the next step that God has for us.” He had signed the letter, “With all my love,” and for Eden that was enough. She knew in the depths of her soul that she and Brandon would find God’s way and that they would share their lives.

  Leaving the garden, Eden passed her father’s study. The door was open; she knew he had a visitor. She stopped short when she heard the name Winslow mentioned. She drew closer and listened to the voices of the two men. “It’s come to that at last, I’m afraid, Lord Fairfax.”

  “There’s no question about it?”

  “No, sir. Not any. The order has been given. Queen Mary has signed it, and Quentin Winslow is one of those who will be taken to the Tower.”

  “When will this happen?”

  “Almost at once, sir. I know you fought for this man, but he is doomed, it seems.”

  Eden waited until the messenger left, then went at once to her father. “I overheard what Lord Humphrey had to say, Father.”

  “It’s terrible news, Daughter. I’ve done all I can, but it has not been enough.”

  Eden made an instant decision and said, “Father, I must go to the Winslows. I can’t do anything, but perhaps I can comfort them in some small way.”

  “Of course, Eden. We must do all we can. I’ll have Jensen drive you in the carriage. But you’d better inform your mother.”

  Eden found her mother at once. She said, “Mother, I feel I must go to the Winslows for a time.” She told her mother about the danger to Quentin, and her mother said at once, “I think you might be of some comfort. Of course you must go.”

  Eden packed a few things and within the hour she was in the carriage, headed for Stoneybrook. She wondered at herself taking such an action, but she knew Brandon and his family had to know about the dangers that awaited Quentin Winslow. And her heart pounded as she thought of seeing Brandon again at long last.

  A servant had told Brandon that a carriage was coming, and from his window he had seen it was Lord Fairfax’s. When he reached her, she put out her hands, and he took them.

  “Eden, my love. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you again. But your face is plainly troubled. What is it?

  “I’m afraid so. It’s about your Uncle Quentin.”

  “What is it?”

  “An order for his arrest has gone out. One of Father’s friends told him about it.”

  “It’s what we’ve most feared, Eden. Thank you so much for coming. Please come in.”

  He took her to a small parlor and ordered refreshments brought.

  “Now tell me all about it.” She repeated what she could remember of the conversation, and he shook his head. “It’s come at last. I’ve been afraid of it for a long time.”

  “Isn’t there something someone can do, Brandon?”

  “I’m afraid it’s out of human hands now. Only God can help.”

  “Do you think much about the time in Dover when we called on God?”

  “Every day,” he said instantly. He studied her and then asked, “Do you ever get impatient? About us, I mean.”

  “At times—but then I pray and God gives me peace. I trust him and you, Brandon.”

  He took her hands, kissed them, and said, “There’ll be a time for us, Eden. You and I, together.”

  “Yes, God has promised us this, hasn’t he?”

  25

  Quentin Winslow was arrested and charged with treason on October 13, 1558. He was taken to the Tower, where he joined others who were awaiting a judgment. Quentin made no protest, and the soldiers who took him were amazed at his calm demeanor.

  He spoke to one of them on the way to the Tower, asking him if his heart was right with God, and the soldier answered roughly, “Mind your own business!” But after Quentin was delivered to the Tower, the soldier shook his head. “He’s got enough problems, hasn’t he, without worrying about my bloody soul.”

  The prison was a foul place. Even the three privies that served all the prisoners in the block in which Quentin was kept did not meet the need. By noon each day the close stools were overflowing with excrement, and the smell was as bad as a midden. It invaded everything and threatened to shrivel the very lungs.

  Quentin spent his days in prayer and comforting the other prisoners. He had become a pastor of sorts to all his fellow prisoners. He was the first to greet newcomers with a comforting word and the last to speak a word of comfort to those taken out to be burned at the stake. His heart was pained by the cruelty of the punishment as men, women, and children, even the blind and the lame and the simple, were hauled past him. Some women were with child, and the child, of course, was burned with them.

  “The sacrifice of innocence, Lord!” he cried out in prayer, weeping. “Only you could know such pain!” Some were seen to be moving after four hours in the flames. One of the guards who had a cruel streak recounted the details with great relish to those who would yet face the fire. His words reverberated in Quentin’s mind. Spare us, Father. Spare us!

  With the aid of Lord Fairfax, Eden and Brandon had managed to get permission to visit Quentin. The stone walls were cold and seemed to have s
oaked up the misery of years. Eden trembled as she thought of all who had suffered in this place. They were shown into a large room in which were some twenty male prisoners, and the stark agony in the faces of some of them wrenched Eden’s heart.

  “Look,” Brandon said. “There’s Quentin.” They made their way across the cold stone floor, and Quentin, who had been sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, dozing, awoke when Brandon called his name. He came awake instantly and stood on his feet. His clothing was filthy, and his silver hair was unkempt. He was not as large a man as Brandon or as strong or as active, but there was peace in his eyes.

  “Brandon,” he said, “And you, Miss Fairfax, how good to see you both!”

  The two men embraced. Then Eden stepped forward. Quentin said, “It’s good to see you again, lady.”

  “It grieves me to find you in such a place.”

  Quentin shook his head. “Do not grieve. All will be well. You know, there’s a verse in the Bible that says all things work together for good to all that love the Lord.”

  “How could this be good?” Eden exclaimed.

  “I don’t know that, lady. It’s not for me to know the ways of God, but as he speaks, I obey.”

  “We tried to bring food, but they kept it down below. I hope it gets to you.”

  “I hope so. The food here is not good, and some are very sick and weak.”

  A guard came for them then, cutting their visit short, and Eden said as Quentin took her hand, “How can you bear it, Reverend Winslow? Aren’t you afraid of death? What if the Lord doesn’t choose to save you?”

  Quentin’s smile was gentle. “Then one moment I’ll likely be in terrible pain, but the next I’ll be in eternal bliss with him that I love with all my heart.” He squeezed Brandon’s and Eden’s hands, and they could see the warm light of assurance in his eyes. “I can’t tell you how greatly I rejoice that you have given your hearts to Jesus. When my brother brought me word that you had both been saved, I shouted for joy—and I could still shout!”