The First Book of Samuel - SAREJESS (chrysanthemum read aloud TXT) 📗

beat the time with his foot the young Bach began to write furiously listening all the while. When Samuel had ended the hymn, for it was an ancient hymn of Israel which he had been humming, he turned to the young composer. A tear drop fell from the young man's face. “Indeed sir you have been a great help you have given me a counter point on which to hang the whole work. May I beg of you one more favor sir?” said the young Bach.

“You may” said Samuel as he rose from the seat he had now grown weary of the church and wished to leave before a priest came along and started asking questions. “Will you share a jug of good German beer with a poor court composer before you leave?” asked the young Bach

“Indeed young man I would be most privileged to share a little beer with the man who plays the most beautiful organ music I have ever heard” said Samuel.

It had been some weeks that Edward Duke of Albany had been in Germany. His father, the second Duke had insisted that his son spend some time in Europe doing the grand tour. Edward had set out with a light step and a heavy purse for the continent. He had spent some time in the salons of Paris; he had even been to St Germans to pay his respects to the King across the water. James II had grown even more religious if that was possible, as he grew older. Leaving France behind, Edward Duke of Albany had grown thoroughly bored with the European tour, the visits to the shrines, the churches and the castles. Spain had been different, he had enjoyed the running of the bulls and the food was excellent. However once he began his visits to the low country a certain despondency and boredom set in. Edward was not use to the cold dark color of the villages of Europe he much preferred the English countryside. The poor in England at least made an attempt to dress up in bright colors their clothing clean, but in the Low Countries the peasants and even the townspeople were dull. When he entered German it was the same cold simple folks, engaged in their religion unwilling to experiment.

One evening he chanced to stop at one of those German towns of a fair size, passing the cathedral. He happened to hear some music which arrested his fancy, being of a some what distracted nature he stopped the coach and told the driver that he would follow directly and that his bags were to be left at the inn. When the coach had left he climbed the broad steps to the entrance of the cathedral entering he was astonished at the sound of the organ. A young man sat at the organ with his hands flying over the keys. A slightly older man stood behind the chair on which the organist sat, listening, tapping the rhythm as the younger man played. Momentarily the young man stopped, taking up a quill he began to write upon the score. Edward Duke of Albany now approached his footsteps echoing loudly upon the cold cobbled stone of the church. Samuel turned and looked at the man who had entered wondering who it might be, was it the pastor of the great church? But no he saw before him a stranger. “Good evening gentlemen” said the Duke in “Good German” “Well met” replied Samuel. “I was wondering good sirs if the music I heard from the street might be a new composition,” said the Duke. “Indeed you see the composer before you sir,” said Samuel. Johann S Bach rose to his feet and bowed slightly in the German fashion. “I am very glad to make your acquaintance” said the duke. “For when I passed by I happened to hear your playing and found it quite enchanting” he continued. “I am much pleased sir that you found it of interest to you. May I inquire as to who you are sir?” asked the young composer. “Forgive me for my bad manners, I am Edward Duke of Albany at your service sir.” said the young man “May I know with whom I have the pleasure of speaking?” asked the Duke. “Johann Bach in the service of Duke Ernest” replied the young composer. “Samuel Ferreria late of London England at your service your grace” said Samuel. “Ah a fellow Englishman I see,” said the young duke assuming that Samuel was an Englishman “Wonderful how did you find this wonderful composer of music?” asked the young duke in English. “Like yourself, your grace, I happened to hear the music while walking and found master Bach busy composing here when I entered” said Samuel in German.

“May I invite you both to sup with me this night? I believe there are a set of rooms at the inn, which are reserved for me.” said the Duke. Samuel and Master Bach agreed somewhat hesitantly, as the duke was one of those Englishmen who were of a spoilt disposition, in that he believed that everything in the world was there for his pleasure. In time he would grow weary of both Samuel and Master Bach and discard them like yesterdays broadsheet.

Reflections on landing on a Scottish island 1745
They had landed on the small island having lost contact with their escort and the pursuing man of war. Their consort had turned and fought a running battle with the English ship while the frigate had run. It was a valiant effort but one which was to cost them in the coming days. They had lost all their armaments and over eight hundred men who had been transported on the French man of war.
Samuel stood warming his hands over a peat fire. He swore softly, “Damn the English navy. It had put pay to all the princes carefully laid plans.” Now the small group of eight men would have to fend for themselves. The young prince stood with his back to the fire warming his backside.

Samuel thought back many years to a night when his friend Mr. Pepys of the navy office had explained to him how difficult it was for him to keep the navy and its ships in good order yet under his guiding hand the English navy had prospered. Now for a moment Samuel had a few bad thoughts about the efficiency of his old friend. He soon forgot about them as a young boy had been found who brought them eggs bread and butter to eat.

"God I could do with a drink" said the prince in French Samuel looked at the young man and wondered how long this would continue. He had been drinking steadily on the trip from the continent celebrating the coming battle. There comes a time when one must stop drinking and take stock and this the young prince of the house of Stuart had failed to do. Samuel had been serving the house of Stuart for many years now through all its fortunes, good years had been followed by bad years. Samuel had watched as the Stuart kings had won and lost their kingdom Charles had of course been a Master and charmed everybody. There was a bit of Charles in his great grand nephew the young prince, James II. Charles had known how to play people off against each other and used this to his benefit. James II his brother had been far to wrapped up in his religion to see that he was throwing the kingdom away, driving the loyal subjects into the hands of his enemies. Slowly at first voices had been raised then later as James totally engrossed in his religion had taken a number of steps which had driven home to the subjects he ruled that he would have to be replaced with a protestant. Thus William of Holland and James own daughter Mary had come over and taken the throne from him.

The son of James and Mary of Mordena, well he lacked the natural charm of the Stuart's and had made a botched attempt back in the 15 to raise his standard in Scotland. It had been made things worse but superstition when the gold ball had fallen from the standard when it was raised in the old town.

Now Samuel was once more following in the wake of another Stuart. This young man promised to be a good leader. He had charm and grace and was schooled in the best ways. He was a natural leader with an education in Europe that had helped to fashion the man he was. The fates would no doubt show him favors and he would one-day rule from the throne of his ancestors.

The sun was beginning to rise. Soon they would have to move again, maybe to the nearby village while they waited for the arrival of the clan chieftains. Then of course there would be debates and arguments as each chieftain jostled for a place of power and guarantees from the prince. Samuel knew that the prince could not offer much other then the hope of French aid when the war had started and progressed. Then the old king in France would rouse himself and dispatch a few thousand men to land on the English coast in support of the prince’s efforts.

Somewhere a piper had started playing a Ballad. The tune was a lively tune which was meant to raise the spirits while the men waited. Soon the clans would be coming through the glens and over the lochs. They would come to pay homage to the prince of the house of Stuart. But in the mean time they would wait. There was still a chance that the French man of war would appear but as the day passed hope began to fade and by nightfall Samuel realized that the ship with promised resources was not coming.

Now it would all depend on the young prince’s ability to negotiate with the wild clansmen. Samuel was sure that the prince would do alright but a nagging fear began to grow in his belly. He began to ask himself “What if they had reservations? What if they refused?” The young prince would be left with no alternative then to once more leave these shores and return to Rome.” He had seen it all before when the bonny prince’s father had landed. He too had hesitated and had lost. Now the young prince would raise his standard and the clans would flock to his banner. What would the future hold? It all depended on the fates. Samuel was a great believer in the fates but he knew how the fates had a way of snatching the sought after prize away just when it seemed almost in your grasp.

Some one had found a keg of whiskey. The men were sitting around with mugs warming themselves by the fire, enjoying the strong drink. The piper was playing a mournful lament. "Aye Jimmy would yea not play us a lively Ballad?" said one of the clans men who had arrived but a short time before. "This is not the sound we should be hearing before the great enterprise" continued the man of clan Mac Donald. The piper taking heed of the words began to play a lively piece meant for a march.

Out side the wind began to blow a mournful sound on this cold Hebrides night. It did not bode well for the great Scottish uprising of 1745.

The battle of Prestopans 21 September 1745

General Sir John Cope beat his horse with the whip as he rode with an absolute fear of death following him. His forces had just come off second best from an encounter with the