The King's Exile

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ON A FROSTY March morning the soldiers came at dawn. Thomas Hill, asleep above his bookshop in Love Lane, was woken by the crack of their boots on the frozen cobblestones. One of the soldiers hammered on the bookshop door and demanded it be opened in the name of Parliament.

Thomas jumped out of bed and pulled on a woollen shirt and thick trousers and stockings. It would not do to answer the door in his nightshirt, especially to soldiers. With King Charles held in Carisbrooke Castle while politicians and generals argued about what to do with him, there were stories of houses being broken into and men dragged off for no more reason than a word out of place or a feather in the cap. No sensible man welcomed a visit from a troop of soldiers of any kind.

He ran down the stairs and through the shop. He unlocked the door and stood in the doorway. There were four soldiers, three of them wearing the woollen caps, red coats and grey breeches of Parliamentary infantrymen and the fourth, their captain, a jacket of buff leather. All four were armed with pistols and swords.

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