History Stories

Blood, Guts and Politics

My father looks at me with narrowed eyes; I can se the hatred oozing out of the dirty green slits.  For a

moment, the house is still and no one dares to say anything.

“Mariella, listen to me!” My father roars; I glare at him

“I do not wish to hear what you have to tell me!” I yell back at him; everyone stares at me in horror.  I have spoken out against my father at last.  It feels so good, even though I know I shall be punished for my outspokenness.  

“Faye, go and wait outside.” Father is breathing hard through his nose; the noise is enough to make my heart pump slightly faster.  He knows I am afraid.

“The King is a good man!” I hiss as my father closes the door behind his wife; my eyes sting as my mother turns back and looks at me with fearful eyes.  The door closes, and the light my mother emits is no longer reaching me – three inches of wood blocks me from my mother and any means of safe escape.

“Have you ever met the King personally, Mariella?” My father spits at me; I blink for a moment and am suddenly over-whelmed by how insignificant I am in God’s plan for the world.

“No, but neither have you!  You have no right to make judgements upon a man chosen by God who you have never met!” I cry out; my father looks, for a moment, shame-faced.  I know from fourteen years of living with this man that his heart is the coldest place upon the Earth.

“Mariella, you know full well that Oliver Cromwell is a decent man, who is intent on getting more power from the King so he can better England!  Make life easier for the small people, the people like us!” My father bellows; dust shakes from the low ceiling of the living room and my heart jags slightly. 

I miss my brother for a moment, before I realise that he would have immediately sided with our father.  The traitor, I think spitefully.  He went off to fight a war in a foreign country, killing people he does not know, and widowing women who may be just like mother.  Fighting against the unjust system their husbands have forced them to obey and living forever in fear that her children may not come home one day.  All this in the split of a second.

“Cromwell is selfish!  He wants the power so that he can find himself a new bride who is wooed by his power over England and its people!” My worlds hurtle out of my mouth before I can stop them; father’s face pales as I speak of adultery.

“How…dare…you!” He staggers over his words; I stare at him with eyes like ice.  “Everyone knows that Cromwell loves Lady Elizabeth!” Father says in a slightly calmer voice; as if he is relieved Cromwell’s wife loves him.  I sigh and for a split second, the world seems calm and peaceful.

“Father, I do not wish to rip our family at the seams.  I shall not fight you,” I sigh; I watch as my father’s eyes narrow, once again, to slits. 

“What are the words that spew form your fowl mouth, Mariella?  I understand the meaning of the words, and yet from your mouth they mean nothing.” He tells me; I look at him.  My father, once a figure of pure terror in my life no longer means anything.

“I shall leave, Father.” I say slowly; I watch the evil glint I know so well light up in his eyes.  “And I can assure you that neither you nor Mother shall every lay eye upon me again.” My promise rings true and bold throughout the house; I hear Mother whimper outside.  I know for a fact that she does not will me to leave as Father does – she loves me.

I turn without uttering another word; but as my hand touches the smooth wood of the door that my brother made before he left to fight, I look at my father over my shoulder.