Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: HARMONY (11/03/22)
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TITLE: Young Tom | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ronnie Puckett
11/08/22 -
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At first it seemed like an exciting adventure. But as the war rumbled on, Tom witnessed things that sickened him. Then there were the long marches - all very well for the cavalry, but he and his friend were mere foot soldiers.
But Tom and Nick had no choice. Sir William, their lord and master, had called out most of his workers and tenants to fight under his banner. And for what? To fight against their own countrymen. It just didn’t seem right. Civil war they called it.
“Downright uncivil!” Nick asserted.
Now, after another day’s march they were having to spend the night out in the open. At least the weather was being kind to them.
As daylight faded, several hundred men began to make camp on a grassy hillside. Tom joined some of the soldiers who were going down into a nearby wood to gather brushwood for their fires.
As he emerged from the trees with a bundle of sticks in his arms he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“How’s it going with you, young Tom?” asked a gruff voice.
He turned to see the weathered face of Eli Robinson, one of the musketeers.
“Not so bad,” mumbled the lad.
“Got any supper?” queried the older man.
“A bit.”
Eli gave him a steady look. “Come over and join us, you and your friend. Couple of our men caught some rabbits. You’re welcome to share.”
Roasted rabbit! Irresistible! “Thanks Mister Robinson.”
“What was that old Bible-puncher saying?” asked Nick when Tom rejoined him.
“Inviting us to share their supper. Roasted rabbit, how about that?”
“I’m not joining them ranters for all the rabbits in the world,” growled his friend.
“Aw, come on,” said Tom, slightly annoyed. “We’ve not seen a piece of meat for weeks.”
“But we’ll only get preached at.” Nick rummaged in his pocket. “I’ve still got a piece of hard cheese and a crust. That’ll do for me.”
Tom shrugged his thin shoulders. “Your choice, Nick.”
Across the gently sloping hillside, bright flames were already shooting up from a number of fires. The crackling wood, the subdued murmur of men’s voices, the occasional burst of laughter - all comforting sounds to young Tom. He missed his home and his family.
He wished Nick had come with him. At times his friend was too stubborn for his own good. And too prejudiced against the Puritans. They often argued over that. But Tom didn’t enjoy arguments, especially with friends.
There were a lot of Puritans in the Roundhead army. Admittedly, some were inclined to be either gloomy or over-zealous, but most of them were friendly and kind-hearted. And Tom liked their hymn-singing. It often helped to speed the miles on a march.
At first, Tom couldn’t locate Eli’s group. Then a raised arm and a beckoning hand guided him to their fire. He added his brushwood to the stockpile and hunkered down in the circle of men.
Later, their faces flushed in the firelight and their bellies satisfied, the men talked quietly among themselves. Darkness had crept up on them, stars twinkled in a velvet sky, and the camp-fires had settled into glowing red heaps. From somewhere on the hillside, a handful of men began to sing. Softly at first, but Tom’s keen ears picked out the words: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble ...”
Others joined in, “Therefore we will not fear...”
Eli then added his deep, strong tones, “Though the earth be removed and the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea ...”
Before long the whole hillside was ringing to the sound of a great male-voice choir praising God in glorious harmony.
Tom closed his eyes as the words of the psalm washed over him like a soothing balm.
A slight sound close by made him turn. With a sheepish grin Nick crept up quietly and squatted beside him.
Tom smiled to himself, not smugly, not triumphantly, but with gratitude.
“Father in heaven,” he prayed silently, “you are indeed our help in all kinds of troubles, both small and great. Thank you.”
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