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Will Whitaker

Guest Will Whitaker

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He was the Chaplain for the Life Guard of the King, and beloved by many people for trying to 'modernize' the Colonies with the money gained from his position. He was also one of the popular supporters of the Exclusion Act, and once it failed and James took the throne, he put his foot down. He resigned his position as chaplain, stating that "He will not serve two masters" between the head of his own Church and the Pope.


Thrown in the tower for the insurrection, and stripped of his position as a reverend for defying the king, he sat in prison with two days before his public execution. Because of his size, they had to debate on what way would most cleanly execute him.


Despite this, he at least had one of the cells reserved for nobles who were political prisoners. He had a desk and was writing letters to his friends and family while he still had time to spare. He was at peace, though. In his heart, he knew he was doing what was right. He knew he caused a stir in England, and hoped that the Church of England would see that.


He was a Colonial... he wasn't holding his breath.


Still, despite all that had happened in ten years, he lived a very profitable and God-fearing life. His younger brother would take care of the rebuilt estate. Though it was mostly farmland now, it was also a place where Anglicans could move to in order to hide from the new crown. What friends he made in politics were working to try and exile him, hailing him as a hero despite the Anglicans who would support a Catholic king. He had gained a few more scars with the army, his brutish hands penning his latest letter.


He was a tired man. He would also be very surprised if he survived this. Though he had made a couple of friends as Catholics, the political danger of having the Church of England answer to the Pope in the end was too much in his eyes. In his cell, he pondered his life. He had been quite a fool, but a fool with a heart of gold. He always wanted to marry Heather O'Roarke...


Even now, he still had his dreams. A large estate with a surrounded wooden fence across an entire acre of wild garden, and that red head enjoying the brook with bare feet and hair undone. Just watching her come undone from the problems of court and observing her from a distance would give him such a peace and joy. A couple of strong children, as well as another red-headed girl just like her that he could spoil rotten. Their son, another preacher, only with the blood of an Irish temper that could change the world.


A tear fell from his cheek as he smiled. The king's mistress, a black widow, and more suitors than one could shake a stick at, but she would have loved the Colonies. He could never do that to her, though. Not as a king's mistress. He silently wondered what would become of her after James arrived. He was no longer a reverend according to the Church, so would it be wrong to wish to hold her? Kiss her, perhaps?


If God had mercy, perhaps she would be there to watch him die well.

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To hell with being a Bishop! This was his heart and life's work!


Prizefighting became a sport two years ago, and he knew he had to civilize it slightly. By adding wrestling to the mix and barring certain moves, it became a much safer and more entertaining alternative to dueling. There were gentry and common divisions, seeing as nobility had access to military technique, it wouldn't be fair to put them against a commoner.


He was still a Chaplain, but he worked on both ends to make certain the king's country was defended from poverty as well as rabble upstarts. This entertainment rose the morale of the King's people.


Oh, but the world was waiting for this one, particularly with the known friendship between the two. Adam MacGregor was the tallest man at court, and Will was arguably the biggest. He was also Will's most deadly student next to his in law, Douglas. Knowing that half of the fun was entertainment, they stood up on the elevated ring, exchanging friendly banter.


"How many times have I warned you not to tap that keg!"


"Too many, Reverend! Too much for my taste!"


Will had saved several people in his lifetime. His fist-fighting had been made an exception by the Church after they saw the hell in the Colonies during the King Phillip Wars. Though the Anglican faith didn't make Saints, ol' Will was, in the very least, as immortalized as his ancestor. The coined "Jacob Toss" was about to begin as the two biggest behemoths in London were going to go at it. Adam had been accused of drinking too much by rumor, and whether it had been true or not, they both decided it would be fun to make a spectacle of it... for both profit and showing that he would 'change his ways' should he lose.


Bah! It was two rough around the collar fools going at it and they knew it!


The bell rang and the fists flew, both men knowing how to shuffle and dodge the others flying fists. His younger brother watched in the stands, coming all the way from the Colonies to watch, his youngest son resting on his shoulders to watch.


"Uncle Will an odd one, ain't he, papa?"


"Oh yes, but he's a good one, son."

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He never would have dreamed that he would have been the man to reinstate fidelity, particularly not like this!


Will knew she would be so tired after the wedding, so the first night he let her rest, but his collection of many years of writing in order to remain true to his wife was left as a gift to her... a prelude to their true wedding night. He started the works when he was fifteen, after he had his first taste of what women really wanted. Not God, but a big man. He kept truly faithful, however! His beloved could not stop reading his passionate confessions to her through the years.


Oh flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone! I need not see thy face to dream, nor know thy name. I need not ponder thy sin, nor thy imperfections, as I am already content and happy with thee. I am young now, and may not see thee for years. In these dark fields where there is lack of merriment without sin, I must stop and ponder thee to keep me pure. I wait only for you, my beloved. My precious you, whom I have chosen to cherish years from now. I can not falter for you, as God hath placed us in this path thousands of years before we were born. Thus, I must keep these letters in order to remind myself how worth it all you are.


I ache, beloved! I ache with pain more fierce than musket fire or dagger! My body trembles without you! Yet I realize at this point in my young life, you may not even be close to feeling this similar pain. How I pray you are still young and innocent now. I do not pretend to understand woman, but to have these desires at all must beg to be filled. Should you be reading this now... oh, beloved, how I will fill you! In my restless dreams, my fingers are already entwined in your hair, your warm skin resting bare upon my chest. You are the one that has been chosen for me to care for and protect. I will not deny you! The color of your eyes and hair mean nothing. It is but the precious silk that I entwine in my embrace and the light within that fills the dark emptiness in my soul. You are she who makes me complete and whole.


Not even a quarter through the letters, she would never dare let Will rest.


She was once somewhat Libertine before they had married, and the court was all songs about how he could keep his wife so faithful all of a sudden. The rumors flew that perhaps his size had sometime to do with it, but even those of vigorous repute were turned down by the Reverend's wife. After a couple of years with their first son, she urged him to publish the letters of his dedication to his wife.


They were entitled "The Song of Solomon", the heartfelt and passionate confessions of an Anglican priest trying to keep faithful to the future. It also held wisdom of how to treat a wife with dignity and with the attitude of a servant while still keeping dignity. Controversial because of the content, it was devoured by wives wanting a husband so faithful. Some even demanded that he be removed from his position as a Reverend.


Centuries later, the original copy remained in a glass case in the London Library. It is now studied in Protestant seminaries as a precious record of a man struggling with sin, as well as guidelines for how one in the faith should manage marriage for himself and others. Colleges study the work as a historical mix of prose and poetry, the ideals being smiled upon by modern society, even with the great uproar it caused in his day.

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