Again, she thought of Barbara, and the silver ring she wore upon her finger, and the life that Barbara might have had that never came to pass.

They walked a short while without speaking, and then Matthew said, without the bitterness, “It’s not that I think little of them. Never that. I’m sorry for the lasses who do enter in that house, because I ken what they’ve not learned.” His face, when he looked at her, showed her a flash of the boy he’d been once. “With Archie,” he told her, “there’s always a price.”

Chapter 21

Thursday, 22 December, 1692

Lily understood why Matthew kept his distance from the house in Riddell’s Close, although he did join them for the services in church each Sabbath.

While King James’s brave invasion plan had come to naught, his ships cut off by England’s fleet and never come to shore, here in their church at South Leith, Mr. Kay, their minister, had waged a longer battle. He’d refused to give the church up to the Presbyterians, who claimed that, since the government had changed, it should be theirs by rights.

All over Scotland, ministers who failed to give allegiance to King William and Queen Mary and say prayers for them had lost their livings, and the Presbyterians were taking over from Episcopalians.

“The wheel is turning,” Archie said. “Best make sure that ye keep to the right side of it.”

But Mr. Kay cared only for his conscience. He’d continued to appeal to higher church courts while he held the keys to both the church and session house.

In August there’d been mayhem—magistrates had come from Edinburgh, without a warrant but with armed guards, who surrounded by a crowd demanded Mr. Kay give up the keys. When he again refused, they forcibly broke in the church door and replaced the locks, and so the Presbyterians had gained possession of the church.

But they’d taken ground by violence, and could not expect a peace. So Matthew said, and he was right.

There had been more appeals, and Mr. Kay had been allowed to preach on Sabbath afternoons and every other Thursday while he waited for a final judgment, and his elders went on meeting in the Cantore—the small room above the church porch, where they’d once imprisoned sinners, and to which he still retained the key.

This stretched on into the autumn, then past Michaelmas, and not two weeks ago Mr. Kay had sent someone to their door to ask for Archie, asking would he come at once.

“What was it?” Barbara asked, when Archie had returned.

“They needed me to write an instrument to say the Presbyterians had barred them from the Cantore, when it’s where they always meet, and that a new lock had been put upon the door without their knowledge or consent.” Archie had set down his papers. Passed a hand across his eyes.

“So they’re shut out?”

“Not anymore. They broke back in, and put their own lock on again, and held their meeting. Stubborn fool,” said Archie, meaning Mr. Kay. “A man should ken when he’s been beaten.”