Keeping Faith

Words by Christine Collinson

Art by Yaleeza Patchett

Pounding mingled with masculine shouts rouses me from the cocoon of my dreams, even before the first fire has been stoked.

“Mistress Anne! Soldiers are here!” Servants rush through the passage beyond my chamber and joining them, I glance below where more are desperately trying to keep the men out.

Shoving my jewel casket behind the bed-drapes, I hasten along the gallery to assist our guests. Wearing only tunics, the priests swiftly enter the shaft and descend the ladder towards moat level. Clutching my cloak around trembling shoulders, I steel myself for deception.

All trace of our visitors must be removed. As the servants help me turn bedcovers to conceal lingering warmth, soldiers emerge into the hall. I rush down the stairs, but they are already dividing with torches aloft, no doubt meaning to probe every shadow.

One of them meets my eye, chin jutting, hand poised on his sword-hilt. “Mistress Vaux, you’re suspected of harbouring traitors. On Queen Elizabeth’s orders, you must move aside.” With hands on hips I stand firm; attempt to suppress rising fury. But they do not await an answer.

* * *

After, their leader demands food for his men. “We’ll break fast before another search.” My spirits plummet, but I occupy myself in laying out some fare. Not the finest we’ve to offer, but enough. They are more refined than I supposed, but the drip of time is heavier than having to provision them. I sweep my damp palms against my skirts, try not to think of the seven men below us standing ankle-deep in groundwater in their cramped, dim space.

I’m so accustomed to wearing a passive face that perhaps no one can judge it. I pray for this, pray for the Jesuits’ protection. Across Elizabeth’s realm, our faith is now outlawed. To practice it is a defiance; yet more, a dangerous pursuit.

“Have you taken sufficient, gentlemen?” Fighting turmoil in my belly, I remain composed as they abandon the cluttered table. My servant’s gaze meets mine. Fear sparks in her eyes but I gesture: move away.

My heart squeezes as I linger in the hall. My breath catches in the quietness. Our resolve is weakening; not the first occasion that we’ve chanced this. These men, our fathers, deserve our protection. Their faith to Rome may prove their destruction, but it’s also my faith and the faith of this house. It has always been so.

Sunlit warmth through the window catches my cheek then as I hear them approach. The soldiers reassemble, muttering together as they pull on riding gloves. I smooth my ungroomed hair; my green eyes betray nothing. “We’re satisfied. This time, Mistress Vaux, your conscience appears untarnished.” My held breath releases gently beneath my bodice.

From my chamber I watch them riding out until nothing is visible except distant woodland beneath scudding clouds. I press my fingertips against my tired eyelids. Each time, we risk financial ruin. The Jesuits, their lives. Just as my jewel casket, for now they must remain concealed.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it over again if I must. The queen is treading a heretical path that we shall not ever follow. If we keep faith, one day our own cherished religion might be returned in glory.

About the author

Christine Collinson writes historical short fiction. She's a Best Microfiction nominee '20 and has had over twenty flash fiction pieces published. She's also been longlisted by Bath Flash Fiction Award, Retreat West (Flash Fiction Prize) and Reflex Flash Fiction. Find her on Twitter @collinson26.

About the illustrator

Yaleeza Patchett has been creating whimsical art and illustrations since a child; her inspiration comes from the cartoons, comic strips and animated movies she grew up with. Four years ago, Yaleeza began expanding her art into her own business named Rowan Ink. It began with a simple pair of hand-painted custom-made shoes for a friend’s birthday. Through her artistic journey she has expanded into different art mediums, but her true passion is sketching, illustrating and painting. Yaleeza currently resides in the south side of Indianapolis with her husband, her dog, and her cat. You can find her current artwork at Rowaninkstudio.com