GLOUCESTERSHIRE, 1635
The countryside looked beautiful in the early spring sunshine, thought Martha Langley. The hedgerows and ditches hummed with insects busy on the wild chervil and tiny pink dog roses. Birds twittered in the newly greened trees – everything looked fresh and bright.
Only the ruts on the road testified that it was an old way, and well-used. Martha hung on to the side of the rough cart, her few possessions in a bundle at her feet.
She felt guilty that she could be even half cheerful. She should have been feeling bereft. When both her parents had been taken by the ague in the early months of the year, she’d thought that she might never smile again.
‘Some have it worse, but still, 15 is no age to be left alone in the world,’ the priest had sympathised as the bell tolled after her parents had been laid to rest in their Midland market town. ‘Have you no relatives who might take you in?’
Alone in the world – what a fearful phrase!
Martha had to think hard before she had come up with a name she had only heard a few times in her life.
‘My father has’ – she corrected herself – ‘had a cousin, known as Abel. A small farmer… in Gloucestershire, somewhere. He’s not wealthy, but maybe, possibly, he might do something for me.’
‘Gloucestershire,’ mused the priest. ‘It’s a big county. Can you be a little more exact?’
‘An odd name… Chipping…’ said Martha, racking her brains. ‘Chipping…’
‘Norton? Sodbury? Campden?’
‘Campden! That’s it!’
The priest asked
