The bell of Saint Michael's had scarcely finished its first call before families began making their way across the muddy lanes that wound between the scattered copyholds of Haworth. Men walked with their caps pulled low against the morning chill while women gathered their woollen cloaks about them. Children hurried ahead, only to be called back by anxious mothers unwilling to see their Sunday clothes muddied before they reached the church.

William walked more slowly than usual, favouring the shoulder that still ached from the blow he had received upon the lonely road home from the Hargreaves cottage. The bruises beneath Thomas's sleeve were hidden from view, but every movement reminded him of the struggle. Neither man spoke of it. This morning belonged to John Hargreaves.

The harvest almost gathered, hedgerows heavy with autumn berries, and a light mist lingering across the lower meadows where the morning sun caught the dew upon the grass.

Inside, Saint Michaels  was cool and still. The familiar scent of damp stone, old oak and beeswax lingered in the air as parishioners settled into their accustomed pews.

Thomas, William and Margery took their usual place midway down the nave.

Margery glanced towards the great oak door.

"The Hargreaves aren't here."

Thomas followed her gaze but said nothing.

It would not be long before the churchwardens compared attendance against the manor court roll.

John Hargreaves had given his word.

Thomas knew he would come.

The Vicar, newly appointed to the parish, climbed into the pulpit and opened the Book of Common Prayer. Though earnest in his calling, he was still finding his feet among the people of Haworth. Few realised how uncertain he often felt, for they looked to him for guidance in these changing times.

The congregation rose together.

Then, just before the Vicar began the opening prayer, the great oak door opened.

John Hargreaves entered with his wife and Agnes.

Every head turned.

John removed his cap with a stubborn but apologetic look upon his face and led his family quietly to the pew.

As Agnes entered, she glanced towards Thomas.

He smiled.

Only for a moment.

She lowered her eyes and sat beside her mother.

Margery noticed the exchange but said nothing.

The Vicar opened the Prayer Book.

"Almighty God, our heavenly Father..."

The service began.

The Vicar read from the Book of Common Prayer and the congregation repeated each response in turn.

When the final prayer had ended, he closed the book but remained standing.

Before anyone could rise, John Hargreaves stood.

"Begging your pardon, Vicar."

The Vicar looked towards him.

"Yes, my son, what is it?"

"I have something to say..."

The congregation immediately broke into whispers.

"What does he mean?"

"Has something happened?"

The Vicar raised his hand.

"Please... this is the house of the Lord. Please show patience and mercy."

Still the whispering continued.

The two churchwardens stepped into the aisle, gently encouraging silence until the church settled once more.

The Vicar nodded.

"You may begin."

John removed his cap.

"I, Johnathon Hargreaves..."

He stopped and looked towards the Vicar.

The Vicar smiled back and gave a small nod of encouragement.

John swallowed before continuing.

"...do humbly confess and acknowledge, that I have grievously offended God in condemning His Majesty's godly and lawful government and authority, by being absent from church and from hearing divine service, contrary to the godly laws and statutes of this realm..."

Again he stopped.

The Vicar quietly mouthed the next words to help him remember.

John watched his lips before continuing.

"I am heartily sorry for the same and do acknowledge and testify in my conscience, that the Bishop or See of Rome has not, nor ought to have, any power or authority over His Majesty, or within any of His Majesty's realms or dominions; and I do promise and protest, without any dissimulation, or any colour or means of any dispensation, that from henceforth I will from time to time obey and perform His Majesty's laws and statutes, in repairing to the church and hearing divine service, and do my utmost endeavour to maintain and defend the same."

The church remained silent.

John replaced his cap.

Mrs Hargreaves and Agnes quietly resumed their seats beside him, both relieved that the ordeal had passed.

The Vicar inclined his head.

"Thank you, Master Hargreaves. We shall look forward to your company in the weeks to come."

He closed the Prayer Book for a moment and looked across the congregation.

"You have all heard Master Hargreaves' declaration this morning. Let there be no further question concerning the good order of his household within this parish."

John lowered his eyes.

The Vicar continued.

"There remains one further matter."

"Having received Master Hargreaves' declaration, I shall, God willing, publish the banns of marriage between Thomas Rushworth and Agnes Hargreaves upon the next three Lord's Days, according to the order of the Church."

A quiet murmur passed through the congregation.

Margery closed her eyes for a moment before offering a silent prayer of thanks.

Thomas looked across the church.

Agnes did not look at him. Yet as she lowered her head, the faintest smile touched her lips.

He opened the Prayer Book once more.

"And now let us pray."

Heads bowed throughout the church.

"O God our King, by the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ on the first day of the week, you conquered sin, put death to flight, and gave us the hope of everlasting life: Redeem all our days by this victory; forgive our sins, banish our fears, make us bold to praise you and to do your will..."

When the prayer had ended, the congregation answered together.

"Amen."

John Hargreaves spoke the word with everyone else.

The people of Haworth drifted slowly into the churchyard, talking quietly of harvests, the weather and the week ahead.

Thomas waited beneath the lychgate as the Hargreaves family approached.

John smiled, but it faded almost immediately as his eyes settled upon William.

"You favour thy shoulder."

William forced a smile.

"'Tis nothing."

John looked unconvinced.

"It does not look like nothing."

Thomas glanced around the churchyard. Villagers still lingered amongst the gravestones, exchanging news before making their way home.

"There is something we must tell thee."

John's expression changed.

"What is it?"

"Not here."

John looked briefly towards his wife and Agnes before turning back to Thomas.

"Come."

The four men walked a little way beyond the lychgate, where the low stone wall shielded them from curious ears.

"What has happened?" John asked quietly.

Thomas drew a slow breath.

"On the road home... we were set upon."

John stared at him.

"The banns money?"

Thomas nodded.

"They knew exactly what they were looking for."

For a long moment John said nothing.

His eyes drifted towards the manor standing above the village.

"Then thee must tell the Steward."

Thomas followed his gaze.

"I intend to."

Behind them, the bell of Saint Michael's rang once more across the valley.

Next Sunday, the banns would be called.

But before another Sabbath came, Thomas Rushworth would have questions for the Steward...

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                                                            - XXI -

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