This blogfest is kindly hosted by Sarah.
This blogfest is supposed to represent a story "Retold" from differing perspective, but I guess I'm stretching the paremeters here in presenting male POV by way of letter. The letter is taken from a historical novel, (my own novel) in which the hero conveys his present situation to the lady he adores. Unfortunately, for reasons beyond his control discontent and unnease between them prevails. Nevertheless, she did go to his aid in time of need, and he ignorant to that fact for over a year: his having been sick with swamp fever and for most of her stay he delirious and unaware of her presence. The letter does tell a story in itself re Charles I and the English Civil War.
My Dearest Anna,
I trust this letter finds you well.
We march for home, and I can honest say I am sorely sick of this war. My heart and that of other commanders cannot hold with the opinions of Colonel Thomas Pride, the jumped up brewer’s drayman. Nor are we in trust of Lord Grey of Groby. The two doth hold Parliament in numbers of 150 members at instigation of Cromwell’s son-in-law, Henry Ireton. Of the rest, the majority, some imprisoned and others under house arrest, are banned from Westminster Palace.
The King is in custody and the call from the ‘Rump, these men of wilful intent is for his head. The Presbyterians stilled by Colonel Pride, twas John Lilburne the leader of the Levellers did up and rail in good and Godly voice. He denounced the plot as trumped up by the ‘Grandees’ and the ‘silken independents’. My Lord Fairfax has called for the illegal rabble to withdraw, yet Rioters now storm through London and provincial townships, and I fear Cromwell persuaded these men have their way.
Charles was ridden in to the city in hope of a ridiculed monarch, but cheers and calls for his reinstatement rang loud, whilst others called for his head. My Lord Fairfax refuses to participate or condone a trial of treason as lain down against the King, and I for one have no stomach for public execution of a man better punished with banishment from the country. I am done with fighting, done with the army. As we march so we disband, I pay my men as best I can from my monies received as Colonel in The New Model Army, for they have not seen wages paid from Parliament long these three months and all.
I am wearied Anna, and of hope you are more favoured toward me now that time has passed since your visit paid me at Glastonbury. News of your tender loving care was only lately revealed by Thomas, and I much ribbed by him. I am now sore ashamed for indecency in your presence. Though I am informed you played a part in exposure of my manliness and in doing so saved this stubborn and wilful soul from the jaws of death. I remain ever in your debt, meadow nymph.
Always you dwell in my thoughts and heart, Anna, and I long for nothing more than your happiness and good fortune on my return. Perchance I live in hope too much, and you are still unable to see your way in showing affection toward me. If that is so my heart will be broken upon my return.
Yours ever,
Morton.
To see more "Retold" offerings go here.
To see more "Retold" offerings go here.
