Prologue
184 Words
Prologue
An excerpt of a letter from
Edward Lillibridge
to his eighteen-year-old son
— Written in the autumn of 1767 —
My Dear Son Ned,
It is midnight, and you are sleeping.
I am here at the table with a candle at my elbow, penning the most difficult letter I have ever had to write.
They are coming for me. Samuel Withers saw them in the village—has warned of their approach. I am bereft, and yet my mood is softened by an odd state of serenity, a knowing, I suppose, that I shall soon be with God.
My son, I implore you to forgive me for my actions. I have foolishly endangered myself. I must pay the price. My dogged pursuit of The Truth has rendered me conspicuous to ‘the powers that be’. My eagerness to convey our true ancient history was considered to have brought shame upon the Church, and I am seen to be a criminal, a charlatan, unworthy of my parish, and now, it appears, unworthy of my life. They are sending their men this night. And so I write with a shaking hand my final farewell to you…
- Writer
