‘Brother Isiah, will you lead us in the prayer?’
‘Right gladly, Brother Simeon.’ The hefty tanner stood and raised his hands, palms up. ‘Our Father –’
All rose and Simeon walked from his place at the table’s head to stand behind his comrade. He placed one hand on the man’s shoulder and thought about how long he’d known Isiah Hebden. He recalled how they’d waited patiently in the ranks of Christ’s army as the king’s cannoneers and musketeers slaughtered their fellows. How they’d charged and slaughtered in their turn. How they’d knelt and prayed and wept among their dead. How, on the battlefield at the very moment of victory they’d received the true word that the Fifth Monarchy was nigh. And how, in all the years of oppression since they’d striven side by side in the Council of the Six to
