The Reluctant Drummer (part one)

This is the first part of a true story about some of our Anabaptist forefathers. Taken from the Martyr's Mirror.

The Reluctant Drummer

“Jason, please. Just do as you’re told,” Heidi pleaded worriedly. “You cannot let them know that you are an Anabaptist supporter. Please, Jas, for my sake and the children don’t make a fuss about it.”

    Jason slammed his fist against the thick wooden table, making the dishes rattle. Anne and Daniel looked up from where they were playing beside the fireplace to see what all the excitement was about.

    “Lower your voice,” Heidi whispered as she began to clear the table. Jason scraped back his chair and stretched out his legs. Then he tucked him in again, and folded his arms across his brawny chest. He scowled.

    Heidi carefully stepped around the contented children to retrieve the hot water hanging from a hook over the fireplace, and prepared her dishwater.

    “I’ve known Stephen all my life,” Jason growled when his wife’s long dress brushed against his leg. “Ever since he’s gone and got rebaptised he’s been more likable than ever.”

    He sunk lower into the chair. “Shh,” his wife cautioned, “The children are listening.”

    He sighed, ignoring her comment. “Now that we are working in the same shop, it gives us plenty of opportunities to discuss what it truly means to be a Christian.

    “Jason! That’s not safe!”

    “Will you quit worrying all the time? There are more important things than being ‘safe’! There’s this hunger of my soul that longs to be satisfied. I want to be sure me, you, and the children make it to Heaven, you know!”

    Heidi didn’t answer but she clattered the dishes more loudly than was strictly necessary.

    “Well, he’s been found out. Someone tattled on him, and he was apprehended.”

    Heidi groaned, and her hands fell silent.

    “So he’s is prison, now?”

    Jason nodded. “Not only that but—“this time he did lower his voice—“ he will be executed.”

    “Oh, no! What about Mary, and the little ones? Aren’t they expecting their second baby in a few months?”

    Jason nodded grimly. Daniel leaped up and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Are you talking about ‘Uncle’ Stephen, Papa? Is he going to be killed?”

    Jason turned and hoisted his son on to his lap. He brushed a lock of white blond hair off his face.

    Anne also joined them and Heidi wrapped her arms around her little girl and caressed her son’s smooth cheek.

“Not only that, but the authorities are insisting that I play the drum to drown out whatever the ‘martyrs”—for that’s what they are!!—have to say.

    “Oh, Jason, surely you didn’t object!”

“I knew better than to object vehemently, but I sure they know how I feel. “

He got up and reached for a bottle of homemade brew in a cupboard by the door. Maybe if I let myself get just a little bit intoxicated it won’t bother me so much.

Heidi cast him a stony glare. She never did like it when he drank too much, but this time, he promised he wouldn’t.  Heidi sent the children off to bed, and Jason checked on the farm animals one last time then went for a long walk beneath the starlit sky. It did little to soothe his agitated spirits. 

This is based on a true story. For more writings by this author go to:www.abebooks.com  or www.prairieviewpress.com or click on  Marilyn Friesenwww.marilynshistoricalnovels.com