WE ARE DELIGHTED TO WELCOME BACK OUR GUEST AUTHOR,TONI KIEF, WHO IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HER NOVEL, 'SAINTS, STRANGERS AND ROSEHIP TEA'. #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
SAINTS, STRANGERS and ROSEHIP TEA
PREFACE
My story began before the Mayflower dropped anchor near Cape Cod. Before my wedding to William White, and well before my birth. Often the story of women and girls is left behind, but we were there every day just like the men who wrote the stories. Our fate, the fate of the “Pilgrims,” was sealed a hundred years before we sailed to North America.
When King Henry VIII was a young man, he was a devout Catholic. He often went to Mass five times a day. As a royal, second in line to the throne of not only England but the British Empire that extended around the known world, he often turned to God for guidance. His older brother, Arthur, was first in line and married to Catherine of Aragon. Shortly before Arthur was to be coronated, he died. This death placed young Henry into the position he was raised to perform – King. Many tasks of ruling the British Empire were political and necessary to govern the world’s largest power. Royal marriages were usually based on politics and power, not romantic love. Henry needed to maintain and continue to build this influential country, and he thought it best to accomplish this through marriage. He contacted the Pope to arrange a wedding to Catherine of Aragon, his brother’s widow. She represented a valuable alliance with Aragon, the area connecting France and Spain, two other prominent colonizing powers.
It worked well until 1522, when Anne Boleyn arrived from Europe to serve as a lady of honor for Queen Catherine. She was smart, beautiful, and had spent time in the European courts. She was adept at the intrigues of royal circles and power. Anne Boleyn fascinated Henry, yet she would not accept his pleas and would only consider a wedded contract. Henry petitioned Pope Clement VII to annul his marriage with the Queen. He cited that his partnership was blighted, as the Queen had not produced any sons that survived to adulthood. Henry believed his daughter, Mary, was not strong enough to rule, and that a male heir was necessary to secure the throne for the Tudor family.
Pope Clement refused to approve the annulment, and this is where my story begins, before my parents were even born.
King Henry was furious, as he was used to getting his way. No amount of pressure or begging worked, and he finally broke with the Catholic Church based in Rome. At the same time, there was a lot of change occurring in religion with the teachings of Martin Luther, John Calvin, and Oliver Cromwell. The development of Protestantism was expanding and took root in England. The timing was perfect, and the Church of England became part of the Reformation. Our King was not only the head of the government but also the church. Henry then married Miss Boleyn and several others, as he was a man of many passions and power. I believe that Queen Catherine must have been relieved to be divorced and not beheaded.
The Church of England followed Catholicism in belief, but through government acts removed much of the pageantry and the power held by high church officials. Much time passed as many of the Protestant followers wished to live by the Bible. Eventually, the rich vestments were abolished, stained glass was removed, and even the stone altars were replaced with wood. These changes were steps as Henry, and finally his daughter, Elizabeth I, removed the power of the Pope and high church officials ensconced in England. Henry had demanded that citizens and clergy recognize him as the “sole protector and Supreme Head of the Church and clergy of England.” Elizabeth followed his decree.
This was when my father, Richard Jackson, and his faith came into play. Queen Elizabeth was accepting of different religions, but things became intense when she passed away, and James I came to power and took control of the Church of England.
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After my mother’s death, my brother, sister, and I moved to stay with Mary and William Brewster. Mister Brewster managed Scrooby Manor for the Crown and the Archbishop of York and was the Archbishop’s bailiff and postmaster. Father became deeply involved in our church. He often traveled to the different congregations as a teacher and courier. I became aware of King James quite young, when he declared that all English citizens were required to attend Church of England prayer services, and that missing them was punishable. We became the separatists and held our church services privately in the upper level of the manor house.
Scrooby Manor sat on the Great North Road and served as a stopping place for officials and messengers from the Crown and the church. Scrooby was a postal office, as well as the Manor House. Mister Brewster was the named postmaster, and he maintained horses and the other necessities for travel. Often, a variety of messengers and Royalty stopped on the journey between London and Edinburgh, Scotland. Mary Brewster was tasked with keeping everything prepared at all times for possible guests. We worked to keep secret any evidence of our private church meetings that occurred twice a week.
Missus Brewster constantly worked as she maintained the house and gardens. The manor was always ready for visitors. Joan, my sister, and I helped her with a multitude of chores. It was difficult to worship in Scrooby, and we had to keep our meetings secret. This was complicated by the fact that we lived in the manor house, where the King and Archbishop’s deputies and priests would often stay. Missus kept me with her throughout the day. I remember a broom with a broken handle I used to sweep. To this day, when I fill the wooden tubs to do laundry, I am a child again.
Father frequently traveled with Mister Brewster’s son, also named William, to the other congregations of Saints; that is what we called ourselves. Sister and I stayed to help Missus Brewster with the constant demands of the Manor house and the gardens. I cannot help but giggle with a memory. The first time I was allowed to empty and clean the chamber pots, Missus Brewster had such a hearty laugh. Robert Cecil, 1ST Earl of Salisbury, had spent the night at the manor, and I spilled some of his nightly discharge on my apron. I remember her words, “He thinks himself above us all, but his stool stains the same as any common man.”
I often overheard the adults speak of the Crown and how they feared they might learn of our worship at Scrooby. Mary worked to keep things neat, and now I realized our cleaning was part of hiding the meetings. I had a difficult time trying to understand why there would be a problem. In our services, we truly celebrated everyone having their own relationship with God, to make a path to possible salvation. I spent many nights wondering why the King would be angered.
It was 1607 when my father led a group of us to escape. We intended to migrate to Holland. I heard the adults talk about how accepting the Dutch were of religious gatherings. I was young, but I remembered the long, arduous journey. We traveled in the dark of night, carrying our scant belongings. When we arrived in Boston, Lincolnshire, the men in our party spotted the ship the men had arranged for us. Several of the leaders went ahead while the rest of us waited in hiding. We were mostly women and children watching from the shore. We stood in disbelief as the ship pulled away without us. Confusion encompassed the group, and luckily my sister, Joan, took charge. She encouraged us to hide and wait for Father. We watched into the night before we understood that the ship’s master was working for King James, and he had betrayed us. The King’s sheriff took our leaders into custody.
The men loaded the ship with most of our stores. We had little food, and few belongings left for those of us who waited. Joan led us in our return to Scrooby. The trip home seemed much further as we walked in fear of discovery, but the King’s men were not interested in capturing women and children. I spent the miles hungry and tired. Even to this day, I remember the ache in my stomach, legs, and back. It seemed forever, but it was only a couple of months before Father returned to tell us that he and William Brewster had been arrested and imprisoned. He made it clear that we would no longer live in England under King James. Father was adamant that the ruling Royalty should not control our beliefs in God.
It was approaching the winter solstice in 1607 as Father and William Brewster worked to raise more funds for another escape. We learned the Ecclesiastical Court had arranged another warrant for their arrest. On Sunday, our services were interrupted, and we listened as a court officer announced they could not find Father or Sister. The remaining men decided that the migration would need to be immediate, or they would face more time in prison. Father did not go to the other gatherings to preach as much and worked diligently on the new plan to leave for Holland.
Father believed that our faith was a gift from God, and he had to be strong enough to follow the path that appeared before us. I heard him speak of the two choices: one was the King’s prison, and the other was trying again to move to Holland. He was confident there was no other choice but to escape. He and the other Elders arranged for a Dutch ship for the second time. I was younger than Joan, nearly twelve years old. I chose to follow Father to Holland on the second voyage. Joan stayed to continue her work in Scrooby and with the church members that remained. The family agreed I would be of great value to Father, and they allowed me to emigrate. We kept each detail secret, having learned from our previous experience. Joan and Missus helped me pack wisely. Mary gave me a bag I could strap to my back with food, many seeds, and cuttings from her medicinal garden. The garden served her well in her healing duties and in making medication for the family. She will always live in my memory, Mary reviewing each plant as she wrapped them. Father and I left at sunset and moved under the cover of darkness. It was nearly fifty miles to the town of Grimbsy, and it took several nights to arrive at the harbor. We all stared at the Dutch ship waiting for us off the shore. We secreted away to watch the ship as it began to creep forward. I was frightened by the memory of what happened before. This time I did not have my sister or brother for reassurance.
There was a sudden hush that raced through our gathering when the ship had entered the harbor, and we moved silently to meet it. I was barely on board when a small troop of the King’s soldiers was sighted. Many of our group fled and hid. The ship could not wait and weighed anchor. We sailed without those who were still ashore. Many had been separated from their families, and grief added to our fears.
We, passengers, were stowed in a small section towards the bow of the ship. Storms and rough sea buffeted the crossing. Most passengers were sickened by the motion of the vessel during the fourteen-day trip. Father bragged that I was a fortunate traveler as I adapted to the agitation of the passage and worked to help the others hold the rail. I helped clean and encouraged them the best I could with the limited supplies. He will never know how his pride encouraged me for years to come.
It would be some time before we learned of those who were left behind. The army took many, and since they were but women and children, after a time, King James allowed them to rejoin the rest of their families in Holland. It was a joyous day in the Amsterdam harbor when they landed.
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Published and promoting Saints, Strangers and Rosehip Tea
Sent to 3 museums and contact with Genealogical societies
Notices to several more.
3 5 stars so far
Been asked for a second book on her already. Thinking about her or her
daughter who married into the Salem witch trial stuff.
Started Mildred’s 5 th book, but moving slowly. Mostly because she had been on a
cruise ship and that is where the pandemic went crazy. Moving slowly – what a
surprise I have her walking in a cemetery.
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Toni Kief is a Midwesterner from a family of high spirits and laughter. She moved to Arizona, then to Florida, and finally to her mother's hometown, Marysville, Washington
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Toni started writing at the age of sixty on a dare. As Toni retired, she published her first novel, Old Baggage. Toni defines her genre as OA – older adult/Boomer fiction. Shocked that her second book, Mildred in Disguise with Diamonds, became a six-book series. She has been fascinated by history since the 1960s and has since delved back into it. After years as a women's rights activist, it's no surprise that she branched into History and Historical fiction. *More than a Footnote was an adventure into the women who were neglected, erased, or robbed of their discoveries and accomplishments. This was to be 80 short biographies, but it finally ended at 102. She has just published 'More than a Lady', about the first ladies of the U.S.
Toni is one of the founding directors of The Writers Cooperative of the Pacific Northwest and is surprised by her unexpected retirement, given how busy she is.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/toni.kief
Amazon author page link: https://www.amazon.com/Toni-Kief/e/B01CR8V3RG/ref
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COMING SOON: On Sunday, 25th October, we are thrilled to welcome our guest author, Sandy Semerad, who is sharing an excerpt from her novel, 'Death Of A Star'.
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