44
Word went out that the Dame of Sark had called a meeting for that evening. She did not stress a priority but did not need to. All the islanders had seen the smoke rising over the ocean in the direction of Normandy two weeks ago and understood its significance; and among a populace of roughly four hundred and thirty people, few secrets survived. They murmured, horrified at the news that Lance and Jeremy were missing in action.
Being the sole population in western civilization still ruled under the ancient Norman feudal system, albeit with greater benevolence than that recorded in other places at other times, the lives of the Sercquiais, as the citizens of Sark called themselves, were at once well-ordered and interference-free.
Although Marian Littlefield held the fief by inheritance, she had gained her surname by marriage. During the last war, Stephen, the son of investment bankers in New Jersey, had taken up residence in Canada with several college friends so that he could fly fighters for the British Royal Flying Corps. Afterward, he remained in London as a banker and became a British citizen. It was there that he met Marian, a widow with four lively children: three sons and a daughter.
On moving to Sark, he had been much surprised when he learned that he was legally the senior co-ruler of the island. His only objection to living there was that the island, at just over two square miles, was not large enough for a golf course. He contented himself with exploring the jagged cliffs of the forty-two-mile coastline with his stepchildren, sailing with them in the rough waters of the Channel, or engaging them in sport on the flatlands.
When in 1565, Queen Elizabeth I conferred the fiefdom in perpetuity on Helier de Carteret and his heirs, she required that he keep the island free of pirates and that forty men live there who were British subjects. Helier met his obligation by subletting the island in forty parcels to tenants who agreed as a condition of their leases to build a house on their acreage and keep a man on each parcel armed with a musket.
That arrangement had continued through the centuries even with the sale of the fiefdom. Marian, descended from the last purchaser of the lease, exercised the rights of lordship; and the families of the tenants descended from the most recent owners of their respective subleases retained their respective rights.
Laws governing Sark were promulgated in the Chief Pleas, a parliamentary body with the tenants also inheriting voting membership. Pressure had built to convert to a more democratically elected representative system, but on this night, Germany subsumed all other concerns. Residents crowded into the ancient stone Chief Pleas Assembly building to hear what the Dame had to say.
As Marian and Stephen entered and made their way to the front of the hall, the crowd parted to make way. The citizens’ sympathetic expressions signified that many had heard the news, conversation ceasing as Marian reached the front and turned to look across the concerned faces. Stephen, always supporting his wife, moved to a chair to one side at the front of the assemblage where he would remain unobtrusive.
Marian took a breath. “My friends,” she began, “I don’t have to tell you that we face precipitous times.” She lowered her eyes to the floor momentarily, and when she raised them again, emotional pain creased her face. “You might have heard that our sons, Lance and Jeremy, are missing in action.” Tears welled in her eyes. She sniffed and wiped them away.
She acknowledged audible gasps and sounds of empathy about the room with a bow of her head. “Thank you. The good news is that, as far as we know, Paul and Claire are still safe in London.” Her strained smile expressed that the optimistic tidbit did not overcome the worry.
“I didn’t ask you here to sympathize with my personal concerns. We face a shared danger coming from the continent, and it is lethal.”
She caught Stephen’s eye and took another breath. “As you know, I went to Guernsey three days ago. I wanted to see how our local higher government and neighbors prepared to meet the menace. What I saw disturbed me greatly. I am sad to say that our friends there reacted in panic. I saw lines at stores, at banks, and at wharves where desperate people jostled for passage to England. Our neighbors on Guernsey buried family treasures and heirlooms in their gardens, and they crowded veterinary clinics to put pets to sleep rather than leave them to the mercy of the Nazis.”
The emotion of having to speak of her personal considerations passed, and her voice became stern. “You know from the news that, a week ago, our national government decided that these Channel Islands are to be demilitarized, meaning that the Crown will not defend us. The Germans will come, and no pretense of trying to stop them or put up a military defense will be attempted. On Guernsey Isle, the panic over that decision caused over seventeen thousand people to evacuate in one week.”
She looked across her audience, her glance settling on many friends she held near and dear. “My visit affected me deeply. I watched the Guernsey we knew fade into history. Regardless of the outcome of this war, it will never be the same. Returning home afterward, I took some time to think before speaking with you about how we could best preserve our unique oasis of quiet and rest.”
Waiting for her words to settle in, Marian continued. “We are the last feudal system in existence, at least in the west, and while such governance has a dismal history in general, it works for us. We write our own laws, empanel our own courts, have our own culture, even enjoy our own language. Those ethereal elements that
