Page 144 of Dark Tides
Ned set off early up the road of snow to the minister’s house, with only some dried fruit in a little box in his basket. He did not want to stop on the way for trade or conversation, he was haunted by what Wussausmon had told him, that the English had been guided to their New World by men who named themselves devils. He was desperate to talk to the minister, to confirm that it was God’s will that the English came to the New World, that it was their destiny, Ned’s own destiny, to conquer the land and to show the rest of the world what a divinely inspired nation could be.
He timed his visit for the morning prayer meeting in the minister’s home. He wanted to hear the simple clarity of the prayers, he wanted to hear the long sermon. Since it was winter and everyone had work to do, John Russell kept to the point: these were the hardest days in a hard year, the darkest of nights in uncertain times, God was guiding them, they must never doubt but that God was with them.
“Amen,” John concluded the prayers, and said good-bye to his congregation as they went out into the cold.
Ned paused in the hall. “Minister, I have doubts,” he said very quietly.
“God be with you, Ned. Doubts come from the devil,” John Russell replied simply. “Do you doubt that you are elect, one of God’s chosen?”
“No,” Ned said uncertainly. “I am doubting our mission here, my work in the world.”
The minister nodded. “Come on upstairs,” he said. “All of us doubt our mission, and those of us who have been defeated and haveto endure the calumny of the world have a hard road to tread.” He led the way up the stairs. The spare-room door was open, for William and Edward to follow the service, listening in silence. Ned greeted them.
“Did you get my warning to the Councils?” he asked. “Will it have to wait for spring?”
“I wrote, and sent a letter downstream,” John said. “The river is open lower down and a native in a mishoon was going, even in this cold weather; he said he’d take it to the coast. The ships for the coastal trade should be sailing, between storms, so it should get to Plymouth and then Boston, it’ll take days, or even weeks. But yesterday I had a message overland from the Council brought by the militia they were so anxious to get news to the outlying towns. It’s bad news. Very bad. They confirm what you say, Ned.”
Ned looked at the grave faces of the three other men.
“They’ve had reports from all around the country that King Philip has been holding feasts and dances at his winter quarters,” John Russell said grimly. “Not even this weather can stop him.”
Ned nodded in silence.
“They didn’t know he was sending scouts out. How do they even get messages through?”
“They have ways,” Ned said, thinking of the snowsnake track, and the smoke signals. “They’re not afraid of the forest, they walk on the frozen river. They aren’t trapped in their houses like we are by the cold.”
“The Council says that someone has seen that King Philip is stockpiling weapons and hispnieses—his men at arms—are in black warpaint.”
“What does that mean?” Edward asked.
“It means they’re preparing for war,” Ned said unhappily. “If the Council would just talk to him…”
“As soon as it thaws they will summon him to Plymouth and he will have to answer for his acts. They swear that this time they will teach him a lesson he’ll not forget. He’s not allowed to prepare for war—that’s rebellion against our rule. We will accuse him of rebellion and he will face the greatest punishment.”
William nodded. “Hanging,” he said shortly.
Ned, shocked, looked from one royal rebel to the other. “We can’t hang him for rebellion. He’s not subject to our laws, he’s not under our rule. He’s a leader on his own lands. The treaty—”
“The treaty said that he should stay on his lands and we on ours,” John Russell interrupted. “That we should live in peace. That his enemies would be ours, and ours would be his.”
“And they’re stockpiling weapons,” William pointed out.
“We sell them weapons!” Ned said despairingly. “We sell them the very weapons we’re complaining about!”
“We sell them for hunting,” Edward ruled. “Not for them to be turned on us.”
Ned turned to John Russell. “All this could be peaceably resolved,” he said. “But if they summon King Philip and treat him like a traitor, they will shame him before his people; that will anger him, things will get worse. If they would meet him halfway somewhere, and give him gifts and treat him like the friend that his father was. If they would speak to him like an equal and promise to stop buying land and cheating his people out of land! If they would take away the cause of war, then it won’t come to war. Surely! Isn’t that in our interest? Isn’t that the best outcome for us all?”
William shook his head. “It’s too late, Ned. Remember the old king, Bloody Charles? There comes a point where you can’t keep asking someone to give their word and change their ways. There comes a point where you have to capture them, arrest them, and kill them.”
“It’ll be the same with this king,” Edward agreed. “He’s growing overmighty. We have to stop him now.”
“He doesn’t even call himself a king!” Ned protested.
Grimly, the three men shook their heads. “It’s God’s will,” John Russell said simply. “Who are we to question?” He dropped a heavy hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Are these the doubts?” he asked gently. “Are these your doubts, Ned? Are you doubting God’s intention for us?”
Ned knew he could not argue with God. “Mercy…” he said quietly. “Mercy for the Massasoit…”
