The Girlhood Gazette

Here is the last part of Faithful Unto Death. I  hope you have enjoyed reading it and that it has blessed you in some way.

This is part 3 of a 3 part story; click here to read part 1; click here to read part 2.

Faithful Unto Death, Part III

The sun was well on its way to setting the next day when Marianne was brought to trial. The trial was very similar to the questions she had been asked by the soldier at her capture.

“Marianne Wilson,” droned the judge, “Are you of the reformed Christian faith, which hath been condemned by Her Majesty, Queen Mary, and is punishable by torture, scourging and or death?”

“I am, your honor,” replied Marianne.

“Will you recant your beliefs, and be given freedom to return to your home and live in peace?”

“I will not, your honor.”

The judge sighed as if weary of dealing with these stubborn rebels. “Then we must see if a little beating will not cure you of your obstinacy,” he said, motioning to two soldiers standing by.

They came forward, another following with a whip. They seized her arms and forced her to her knees. She offered no resistance.

The whip cracked over her back. Marianne clenched her teeth and blinked back tears.

“Count it all joy. Count it all joy. Be of good cheer!” she repeated over and over to herself.

It was really only a few moments, but to Marianne it seemed like hours. The men ceased their beating and she was dragged to her feet.

“What think you now, heretic maiden?” sneered the judge. “Will you recant? If you will not, there are worse tortures that await you.”

“I will not recant! A bleeding back is nothing in comparison to the horrors I would face before the judgment seat of God if I deny Him,” Marianne answered with spirit. “And I praise the Lord for the tortures that await me. Am I not the more blessed in His sight because of them?”

“Rubbish!” scoffed the judge. In an aside to one of his men he said, “I do not understand these fanatical Christians. The weak ones will comply when tortured; but these stubborn ones are impossible. The more I torture them, the more they praise God; and the less I torture them, the more they praise God, until I know not what to do to silence them; except to kill them.” He sighed in exasperation. “But, this one is young; perhaps more severe tortures will break her will.”

I will not horrify my readers with descriptions of the tortures to which Marianne was subjected that day; but under each she remained steadfast, until at the last, she was drawn to her feet and had to be supported by the soldiers in order to stand.

“After all this, will you recant?” demanded the judge.

“I will not,” Marianne answered faintly, and before the judge could reply, merciful Providence, for a time, relieved her pain in unconsciousness.

“The maid hath swooned, your honor,” said one soldier.

“Bah!” exclaimed the judge in disgust. “Take her away. I have not time to waste upon her. You may have her beheaded tomorrow.”

 

Marianne came to her senses when she was laid again in her cell. She winced in pain as her open wounds touched the rough straw that served as a bed.

“You have assuredly played the fool,” said one of the soldiers, not unkindly. “If you had but promised to forsake your religion you would even now be at home with your family. Now you must die.”

Marianne smiled. “It is joyous to suffer pain and give my life for my Lord.”

The other soldier laughed derisively. “You will not think so when you see the block stained with the blood of those who have died before you, and on which your pretty head will soon lie. Oh, that will be pleasure, indeed!”

“You mistake me, sir,” said Marianne. “I said not pleasure, but joy.”

She was too exhausted to elaborate; but finished simply, “I will pray for you.”

“Ha! How very grateful I shall be!” laughed the soldier. “I am a poor sinner, much in need of the prayers of heretics!”

But the first soldier gave her one grave glance, and when the other was out of hearing, whispered, “Will you pray also for me?”

She smiled at him. “I will.”

 

The morning dawned bright and fair. Marianne had spent the sleepless night in prayer, and was still praying when the soldiers came to lead her to her execution. They stopped at the door of her cell.

“It is Thy will that I die today, oh Lord.” Marianne’s voice came to their ears. “Grant that I may die with grace befitting one who goes to the presence of a King. Strengthen me in this hour. Comfort my poor father and mother; and forgive those who are, perhaps unknowingly, murdering the chosen of God.”

The soldiers unlocked the door.

“Marianne Wilson,” said the first, “You are to come with us to be beheaded.”

To his surprise she turned to him a face radiant with joy. “How blessed it is to go to Christ Jesus so early in my life.”

The soldier pretended to ignore her, and produced a chain to bind her.

“That will not be necessary,” she said, motioning it away. “I will come with you with all my heart.”

“Come then.”

She rose with difficulty, still keenly feeling the effects of yesterday’s tortures. Thankfully it was a short walk to the place of execution. Marianne saw the block and greeted the executioner with unshaken composure. The second soldier who escorted her was young, and asked her wonderingly, “Why do you not weep?”

She glanced at him with a faraway look in her eyes. “Why should I weep when I go to a place far better than this sinful earth?” she asked gently. “I am more than willing to exchange this trouble-filled life for an eternal one in the heavens with the God whom I serve. There is no cause for weeping; rather, there is cause for rejoicing.”

Leaving the soldier to his own reflections on her words, Marianne mounted the platform. Laying her head upon the block, she said,

“Heavenly Father, receive my spirit!”

The axe glittered through the air, and fell. Marianne was with her Lord in heaven, where “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4).

The End

This story is copyrighted © 2009 by Kathryn Y., All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for reading. Have a great day!

Here is part 2 of Faithful Unto Death; we left Marianne as she goes out to bring bread to her ailing neighbor…

This is part 2 of a 3 part story – click here if you have not read part 1

Faithful Unto Death, Part II

Master Greene opened the door at her knock. “My child, what are you doing out on a night like this?” he exclaimed as he ushered her into the cottage.

“I have brought you some fresh bread, hot from the oven,” she answered, smiling. “It is but a step from my door to yours and I knew Mistress Greene was not able to bake today. The Bible commands us to bear one another’s burdens, does it not?”

Before Master Greene could reply, there was a loud knocking at the door. “More visitors?” he muttered, shaking his head. “The whole village must be mad.”

He opened the door.

“Stand aside!” The huge form of a soldier loomed in the doorway.

Master Greene was so surprised to see anyone besides those within the village that he stood stock still, staring at the stranger.

“Let us in!” the soldier commanded, unceremoniously pushing past the astonished Master Greene. The latter, coming to his senses, closed the door after the five soldiers and demanded why they had thus forced themselves upon him.

The first soldier eyed him with a sneer. “Are you, or are you not, one of the accursed Christians?” he asked pointedly.

Master Greene answered him coolly. “I am not.”

Marianne stood as if frozen, with the bread and lantern still in her hand. At Master Greene’s reply, she turned pale. Was it possible he was denying his Savior at the first hint of danger?

The soldier was not satisfied. “Are you then a Roman Catholic?”

Master Greene again answered, “I am not.”

“What, then, are you?”

“I am a Christian.”

The soldier stared at him. “What do you mean, fool? A moment since you declared you were not.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Master Greene. “I meant that I was not an accursed Christian.”

Under other circumstances, Marianne would have laughed. Master Greene was always adding a little dry wit at times when one least expected it. But now was not the time for laughter. The soldier was evidently angry.

“Bah! Enough talk!” he exclaimed. “Toy not with me, man. Will you renounce your religion and embrace the Catholic faith? If you will not, we are commanded to take you to prison for heresy.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Master Greene replied, “I will not deny my Lord though you should kill me.”

“Bind him,” commanded the soldier to his companions.

They hastened to do his bidding. “Oh, Lord, strengthen me,” Master Greene began to pray aloud.

One of the soldiers struck him across the mouth. “Cease your babbling, heretic!” They gagged him to prevent him from speaking.

Once Marianne realized they were taking Master Greene, she hurriedly scribbled a note to Mistress Greene to explain what had happened. She left it on the counter top, not daring, in taking it to Mistress Greene, to let the soldiers know that there were more people in the house. Her heart was heavy, knowing what would be the likely outcome of Master Greene’s imprisonment.

“You, girl!”

Marianne spun around and came face to face with the head soldier.

“Are you also a Christian?”

For a moment Marianne wavered. The thought of her parents at home, expecting her back any minute now, and how worried they would be when she did not come, flashed through her mind. But immediately after she remembered the words her father had just been reading and hesitated no longer.

“Thank God, I am,” she responded.

“And will you renounce your faith and become a Catholic? You see what has happened to your father for not complying with us.”

“He is not my father,” Marianne answered quietly. “And I will not renounce my faith,” she hastened to add, lest the soldier should press her into details concerning her family.

The soldier regarded her for a moment; then he tried persuasion. “But you are young; you have all of life before you. Do you know that most heretics are tortured and eventually killed?”

“Tempt me not,” replied Marianne. “My Savior has said I am blessed if I suffer for His sake. You cannot persuade me to do otherwise.”

“Very well,” the soldier answered, his voice hardening. He turned to the others. “Tie the girl as well. Then let us go; the night grows worse.”

 

Later that night Marianne found herself locked in a filthy prison cell, awaiting trial the next day. “Dear Lord,” she prayed, smiling up into the night sky through the barred window, “I thank Thee that Thou hast counted me worthy to suffer for Thy sake. Help me to stay faithful to Thee, no matter what the cost. Be with my dear ones at home, and with Mistress Greene and the children. Please protect them, Father, and if it be Thy will, restore Master Greene to his family. My own desire, of course, is to be returned to my home as well; but Thy will be done. Help me to do as Thou hast said in Thy word, that when trial cometh, to ‘count it all joy’ and ‘be of good cheer.’ It may not be easy, Lord. But Thou knowest my heart, and canst change it if Thou wilt; and I pray Thee to give me joy in suffering for Thy sake. In Thy holy Name I pray, Amen.”

This story is copyrighted © 2009 by Kathryn Y., All Rights Reserved.

Tomorrow I will post the end of the story…

A while back I entered a story contest put out by Patrick Henry College. I didn’t win, but my mom suggested that I post the story on my blog. So here it is. It is rather long, so I will break it up into three parts.

Faithful Unto Death, Part I

It was the year 1556. Nestled in a sequestered glen on the moors of England was a little village of barely a dozen cottages; and on this particular night, the wind was whistling around the corners, and a deep darkness lay over the land. Yet a cheerful light spilled out of the windows of the cottages – a welcome sight had anyone been wandering around on the moors that evening.

In one cottage dwelt a family by the name of Wilson. They – and indeed everyone in the village – were of the reformed faith, which during that time was under attack by the Catholic church; but so far their tiny village had remained unmolested. Master Wilson was the village blacksmith and farrier, and Mistress Wilson was bedridden due to a fall that had permanently paralyzed her. They had one daughter of seventeen left at home; all their other children had married and had children of their own. The name of the daughter was Marianne.

On the evening in question, if you could have peeked into the Wilson’s cozy little home, you would have seen Master Wilson by his wife’s bedside, reading the Bible aloud. The door to the bedroom was open, so Marianne might hear the reading as she baked bread in the kitchen, which also served as dining room and parlor. Master Wilson had chosen to read verses on tribulation.

“‘Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days: be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.’” Master Wilson’s deep voice floated out of the bedroom to his daughter’s ears as she put the bread in the oven. She sat down to mend until it should be done.

“‘Great is my boldness of speech toward you, great is my glorying of you: I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation,’” her father continued. “‘These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ Wonderful words, are they not, Mother? The winds of persecution have not yet blown over our little settlement; but if they should, we would do well to remember the word of God!”

Marianne stood and stirred the soup on the stove. She peeped at the bread; it was done. The wonderful aroma wafted through the house as she removed the four loaves from the oven.

“Father,” said Marianne, coming to the door, “May I bring some bread over to Mistress Greene? I heard Master Greene say yesterday that she is ill and cannot cook. Little Jane can do some, but has not yet learned to bake.”

“It is a wild night, daughter,” replied her father. “I like not the looks of it. But, as Mistress Greene’s house is but a few steps away, I will permit it. Be sure to take a lantern and wrap yourself well.”

“Yes, Father.”

Marianne took one of the warm, fragrant loaves and wrapped it in a napkin. After tucking it under her arm and lighting a lantern, she threw a thick shawl over her head and hurried out into the night.

This story is copyrighted © 2009 by Kathryn Y., All Rights Reserved.

Come back tomorrow for part 2…

Edit: Click here to read Part 2