Forged in the Fire Read Online Free Page A

parcels from Friends to be delivered along the way, and arranged with us to leave early in the morning on the twenty-sixth of the month.
    But a few days before we were due to leave, we saw a new notice being posted at the conduit. It said that from now on travel out of the city would be permitted only if the traveller was in possession of a Certificate of Health; this to be obtained from the minister and churchwardens of his parish, and signed and sealed by a Justice of the Peace.
    The news must have flown around the city. Nat and I went at once with the Leightons to see what could be done, and joined a long queue of desperate people. We soon discovered that few certificates were being granted and that it helped if you were known to the minister. All dissidents – Presbyterians, Baptists and the like – were given short shrift; but Friends in particular, who refused to pay church tithes, had no chance. We came away, after many hours, empty-handed.
    â€œWe will try again,” said Joseph Leighton, “another day.”
    So we waited; and tried again, but without success. Money might have moved matters along, but we would not offer bribes. We were accused, as Quakers, of consorting with felons, and gathering in large and unlawful numbers in close rooms where the pestilence might breed. And perhaps the churchwardens were right, for on first-day we learned that a family from our meeting, the Ansons, had the sickness, and had voluntarily enclosed themselves. All of us must have been aware, though we did not speak of it, that only last week we had been in the same room as Matthias Anson, breathing the same air. Two of the older women, Jane Catlin and Ann Hale, said they would go in and take care of the Ansons until the end, whether that was recovery or death. Then we were silent and prayed for them.
    Few of our meeting were able to leave; and of those who could, many would not, feeling it to be desertion – that they should stay and help those who suffered, and trust in God. I had no such scruples. All I wanted now was to reach Shropshire, to reach Susanna. I could not help regretting how far I was now from my father’s power and protection. A man of his standing would have had me out of the city without delay.
    The twenty-sixth of June – the day we should have left – came and went. Another Friend, related to a magistrate, made an attempt on our behalf to gain certificates, but perhaps the news of the Ansons’ sickness made us suspect; again we were refused. The Leighton brothers accepted the change to their plans, and abandoned them for the time being. Their desire to leave London was less urgent than ours. Nat, too, was philosophical, though disappointed. But I railed against fate, and felt desperate. It was like being in prison again. I imagined storybook escapes: a counterfeit certificate; or hiding under the goods in a carrier’s cart.
    On fourth-day in the first week of July, all Londoners were commanded to attend church and pray for God’s mercy and a release from the pestilence; markets, shops and taverns were to close. James Martell closed the shop, and we joined Friends as usual at Meeting. The authorities did not molest us. It was a quiet day that gave me hope.
    Indeed, all this time, I hoped against reason that the plague would abate, the emergency come to an end, and then Nat and I could be on our way to Shropshire. But then the King and court left the city for the safety of Isleworth; and about the same time, an order went out that all cats and dogs were to be killed, for fear they should carry the contagion from house to house. It was when I saw men going about the streets clubbing to death every cat or dog in sight that I realized we were on the brink of a calamity which had only just begun.
    And so, at last, I took Nat’s advice to write a letter to Susanna and attempt to send it by post before that too should fail.

Susanna
    L ove, don’t fear if thou hear