The Shadow of War by Jack Murray (read this if TXT) 📕

events long ago. Stan knew how much the future is connected to apast they had no part in shaping. And the skies were darkening for reasons thathad nothing to do with snow.

 2

Aroundtwo o’clock, the Shaw family left the house and walked towards St Bartholomew’schurch. The church was tiny with light grey brick speckled by dark spots.Alongside the church was a small graveyard. A few odd headstones peaked outfrom underneath the snow.

Outsidethe church, a small crowd had gathered consisting of almost every inhabitant ofthe village. Young and old alike stood waiting for Reverend Simmons. He wouldlead them from the church, after his usual prayer, towards Cavendish Hall wherethey would sing carols, drink punch and mulled wine. The children would begiven presents by the lord of the manor, Lord Cavendish.

KateShaw walked out from the cottage. She was arm in arm with Stan. Their sonsfollowed, nodding to their friends as they arrived in the square. Everyone wasdressed in their Sunday best. This was one of the major celebrations in thevillage calendar, alongside Easter and Harvest.

TheShaw family joined the throng. Kate Shaw spotted Bob Owen with Beth Locke andwalked over to say hello.

‘Whenare you two going to get hitched?’ asked Kate. Beth gave Bob a playful dig inthe ribs.

‘Youhear that?’ she said. Bob rolled his eyes at Danny who was enjoying Bob’sdiscomfort immensely. This turned into a frown as Tom joined his mother, ‘Yes,Bob, how long have you two been together? If you’re not careful she may look toanother, better looking man.’

‘Timeenough,’ responded Bob eventually, but with a smile.

Atthis point Reverend Simmons made an appearance. The village cheered theReverend who made a mock bow. He glanced up at the skies. They were a metalgrey with speckles of yellow threatening to break through. The snow had stoppedfor the moment.

ReverendSimmons held his arm up and a hush descendedon his outdoor congregation. He was wrapped up well against the cold. Lookingaround the crowd he nodded and smiled.

‘Letus pray for Christians around the world as we celebrate the birth of Christ.Bless all those who are entrusted with Christian ministry that your Word mightbe proclaimed with truth and courage across our world. Bestow your wisdom onall who govern, that in honouring the earth and its people, we may celebratethe light of God. Grant reconciliation to those beset with conflict andviolence, that they may live in the peace of this holy night.’

Nota sound could be heard aside from the Reverend’s rich baritone voice. When hefinished there was silence and a moment ofreflection. Then Simmons looked up and said, ‘Musicians, make ready.’

To his right, stood three musicians. Danny recognised Hugh Gissingon the tuba. The other musicians were older, Gerald McIver the farmer, ontrombone, and Ronald Annersley, the postmaster, on trumpet. They traditionallystarted with ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ as they walked towards the hall.

Reverend Simmons made a start towards the driveway leading to theHall, his feet crunching through the dusting of snow. Meanwhile RonaldAnnersley led the carols offand played the introduction for half a minute as they walked towards the Hall. Thenthe village began to sing in unison,

God rest ye merry gentlemen 

Let nothing you dismay 

Remember Christ our Saviour 

Was born on Christmas Day

Theysang as they walked and arrived at the front entrance within a few minutes.Standing on the steps of Cavendish Hall were the Cavendish family and staff.There were also a few guests that Danny did not recognise and one, with somedismay, that he did.

Thesingers completed their first carol and then Henry Cavendish stepped forward togreet Simmons.

‘Tom,how many times have we done this?’ he said shaking hands.

Simmonslaughed, ‘Too many! I’m not sure how long I’ll be around to do this in thefuture. These old bones are creaking.’

‘Nonsense,Tom. You’re indestructible. Do come inside. I think you and the childrendeserve warmer surroundings and something for your efforts.’

Thecarol singers marched in first followed by the villagers and about twentychildren and toddlers. Once they were all in the main hall, Cavendish stoodbefore them to give his traditional Christmas speech to the village.

‘Mygrandfather used to say, “I feel there are a few of you who could probably givethis speech now, you’ve heard it so often.” I know how he feels.’

Therewas some laughter at this from the older villagers and carol singers. Henrycontinued, ‘But no matter, tradition must be followed. As many of you willremember, as a young man it was a tradition I didn’t much care for. I do now. Icare for it very much and I hope that it is as welcome to you as it is for thoseof us who live and have lived at Cavendish Hall.’

Thiswas greeted by many saying, ‘Hear, hear.’

‘Asmy grandfather would say, I hope this tradition of ours will go on for manygenerations to come.’ This was greeted with applause by all. Danny noticed LordCavendish glance when he said this to his mother, a rather formidable woman whoremained impassive throughout until that moment. She smiled when he said thisand the two of them seemed to share a moment of genuine warmth.

Henrycontinued, ‘As you know, we shall serve mulled wine, lemonade and mince pies toyou all. Doing so, as usual, will be my children whom you know very well, Lady Sarahand Lord Robert. Joining us are our guests this Christmas.’ Henry mentioned afew names. Danny did not know or care who they were, but he guessed the mentionof Lord Augustus was a reference to the young man standing near Lady Sarah. Hehadn’t changed much from his last sighting of him, nearly five yearspreviously: taller, not bad looking but with an air of boredom or was itcontempt? His face did not make any attempt to hide his displeasure at what hewas being asked to do.

Helooked at Sarah. She, also, seemed unhappy. He wondered whether she found the festivity a chore or if it was because of his lordship. Wasthere anything between them? With the upper classes, who knew? In Danny’sopinion she was still too young to be courting, if she were his daughter,anyway. He glanced again at Lord Augustus. What a poncey name, he thought.

By now the carol singers