Holyfen, three days ago —  Cromwell and I to the Market square; there the boy before St Aethelbert, beating his drum with great vigor, and a determined expression; beside him  Kilmister. Cromwell pacing back and forth, fingering his sword-hilt; birds were singing, and a smell of drying leaves,  as men gathered from the shops, and the works, and the fields, and the tavern (the Two Cats, it was Three Hounds in my day); Cromwell greeting with a nod, or a brief word. Known in the Fens: per Mother, he undertook a suit to prevent the drainage and enclosure by a Dutchman and my Lord Manchester, a scheme taken over by the King.

The village quite handsome, so changed from my day.  The square paved, brick from dismantled kiln; houses new-thatched, brickwork soot scraped away, whitewashed, etc. Handsome pargeting on many; a trade revived recently, Cromwell said. I remarked to Kilmister, that in my memory Holyfen teetered on the edge of shabby; Kilmister said it was so, until the settlement.

Settlement? I said. Settlement, Kilmister said, told (of which I did not hear all details, due to the drum), whereby my Father and Thomas deeded the rents and properties to Sydney, in exchange for a stipend, or annuity. They live now in the Abbey, Kilmister said, and rarely leave; or did he say not permitted? I did not hear and must enquire further. There is now great industry here, Kilmister said: Sydney hath closed the brickworks, the patent to engage in that trade, as required by the King, draining it of all profit; he instead placed looms there, where ten can work at once; he repaired the drainage and reclaimed more for the grazing of sheep, whose wool supplies the looms; the eel-ponds restored, and sold to London, so too the brewery. There is good money here, and no drunkenness,  and he added, but for the Abbey.

Seems too the village is as in days of Sir Edward a hotbed of Sectaries.  Kilmister said that the villagers do not attend St Aethelbert’s, but meet in a house, or in the brickworks, and read Scripture, and sing Psalms;  whoever is so guided by the Spirit expounds and edifies, this same individual also blessing the bread and wine; the creed read, and that is all; paedobaptism is not permitted, nor the memorization of prayers, even the Lord's. All is sanctioned, nay actively promoted, by my brother.  Kilmister is greatly gifted, Cromwell said, interrupting his pacing, as an interpreter of God’s word, and leader of devotions. The Priest it would seem is confined to the Abbey, and performs service according to Prayerbook to my Father and Thomas and several others in the chapel there.

Then Cromwell waved us silent. He gestured to the boy to cease his drumming, which was so done with cacophony of a final tattoo and a flourishing twirl of the sticks between his fingers.

Nineteen men gathered before us, formed by accident or design I know not into ranks. Cromwell walked slowly before them; pausing and looking each in the eye. Some dropped their gaze, some not.

We are Englishmen, Cromwell said. That is one good fact. He hath a rough, untuned voice.  We are apt to boast sometimes that we are Englishmen, he said. And truly, it is no shame that we are Englishmen. But it should drive us to do like Englishmen, and seek the real good of this nation, and the interest of it.

Through this Cromwell continued his walking before the men; and marking in his mind, or so it seemed to me, who looked at him, and who looked away.

I am an Englishman, he said, living neither in any considerable height, not yet in obscurity. I have been called to an employment in this nation. I will endeavor to discharge the duty of an honest man in these services, to God, and His people’s interest.

Then he stopped, and stood before them, in the center; his hand on his sword-hilt now, and he spoke louder. There are those that hate this nation, he said. I do not mean just the Spaniard. The Spaniard, we know. I mean those in this nation that hate it. That hate England because of what it is. That hate us, because of who we are, because we are English. They hate us because they hate whoever would serve the glory of God and the interest of His people. His people, which these enemies know to be more eminently — nay, most eminently in this nation — and I say this not from vanity — in this nation, in England, above all the nations of the world. And that is what they would enslave and destroy.

He then pointed to me and noted my service in America, and said that I would ride with him, as his lieutenant.

I seek  honest, godly men for this service; he said, and that  that we would leave our homes, and the county, and to ride to wherever he must needs ride, in the interest of closing with and destroying the enemies of England.

I am an Englishman, Cromwell repeated.  My  commission as a Captain of horse saith that I fight for the King and for Parliament.  Now, I would not have you deceived by that expression.  I fight for the liberty of the Gospel and the law of the land. And if the King should happen to be in the body of the enemy that I am to charge -- And he paused here. He looked from face to face slowly. Then he spoke again, and the roar, though it did not increase in volume, the violence of it made us all start, as if spurred: And if the King should happen to be in the body of men I am to charge, I will discharge my pistol upon him as I would any other person.

He looked at the men, from face to face. If your conscience will not permit you to do this,  he said, then I would advise you to not enlist in this troop, or under my command.

He stopped, and folded his arms across his chest, with an air of challenge, of arrogance, of pride. The men, the crowd, were silent; I heard the wind rustling in the trees, in the meadows; birds, a falcon.

I stepped forward and stood beside Cromwell. Kilmister stepped forward and stood beside me.< And all at once it seemed to be, the entire bod of men surged forward toward us.

At that moment, a cry of Traitor, traitor! Damned traitor!

It was Father, he appearing unnoticed; carried in a chair. Thomas was with him.

And also with him, with them, was the woman. Her name is Anne, I have learned. I am the unhappiest of men, a child of wrath, a damned traitor indeed and sure the outer darkness waits me if I do this and dear God I know that I shall.