Beyond Mercy is a past life novel set in the 15th century,the present and the future.The three eras of time are connected.A book to challenge beliefs.
To read more about the 'how' and 'why' of this book, go to Beyond Mercy
To watch author's video go to a differet webpage on the Beyond Mercy website at Beyond Mercy
Although originally placed in the 'spirituality' category , I have moved BEYOND MERCY to 'inspirational'. It cannot truly be placed in any of the categories provided.It is inspirational but also historical. A story but, I believe, not fiction, it is history, it is spiritual and has a religious theme- yet cannot be limited or fully described by any of these criteria. It could be placed in the self help category as it can challenge beliefs of all who read it.
The author Audrey Coatesworth has written about a past life - in novel form.
A family in the 15 th century is devastated by dire deeds and the book follows the search for truth and justice. It is a book which depicts, though not directly, great cruelty ( hence the R rating guide as a precautionary measure), but is a book of love and devotion and, ultimately, hope for the world.
The book is divided into three parts and links are found between the past, present and future - the reason being that the author, Audrey Coatesworth, believes this book will be proven to be true.
This is thus a unique book - a book written in months, but prepared over centuries.
This book can be bought in UK from www.plppublishings.com and Amazon.co.uk. as a paperback. Like all Audrey Coatesworth's books are now also printed in USA and can be bought from The BookPatch
The ebook is available now on Kindle store, Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com - search ebooks / audrey coatesworth
Signed copies can be bought only from UK - where author is based. Price is $28 including postage and packing.
To buy a signed copy click on this link
To buy a signed copy
In memory of
Ann and Emily Kittle and Catherine Shaw
Died July 27th 1497
‘Their spirits can now rest in peace’
‘A book written in months, prepared over centuries’
A few brief words of explanation.
This book is set not only in the future but also in an era that is long since past – a time that was never expected to surface again.
This is the first of several books that I shall write about events in centuries gone past. I have to say that I have only been able to recall or know this information in the last few years, as if collecting the pieces of a huge jigsaw. I understand the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of the process, but this is not the time nor the place to explain. Yet, I still find it rather strange being able to do so at all. When at school, though I was intelligent and did well at most subjects, one seemed blocked to any part of my brain, namely history. My problem was that, though I understood the historical concepts and the reasoning, I could scarcely remember a name or a date. Hence, I did not know who did what or who was who, or when or where.
But now I realise that this lack of knowledge and ability, at that time, had a purpose. As I now recall past events, I do so without the clutter or preconceived notions of previous knowledge. I have not done any research for any of my books. The information is ‘just there’ in my mind, as easily obtainable as events in my present life. Have I just a very good imagination or is it true? Only time will tell. But for the purists or historians, these books are about people and what happened to them, and are not meant to be accurate social or historical documents, though they may well be so! I know only what is relevant for me to write the books.
Let me say now that I believe the events from the past are accurate. In Part 2 of this book, I have used what could have been the original historical names of the villages. Some differ from those of today but are the ones that have come into my mind. But, I have, as far as I can know, created all the names of the people in the future and the events – as one would in a story. But, the proof of what I have written about the past will be found, of that I am sure.
All I can say at this point is that, in reading this book, there will be chance for interest, challenge and future enlightenment. There are many connections between the past, present and future (in this book), linking both people and events. I freely acknowledge that in the climate of present beliefs many of these may be overlooked, missed or thought of as fantasy. If such be the case with the first reading, let me say that the book will not change and the truth will eventually be apparent. I merely ask that you keep an open, if sceptical mind. Scepticism is healthy and I have no problem with that. However, a closed or biased mind is limiting and denies opportunity.
This book is about a village which I shall call Stocksmoor. It was the village of my birth in 1937 and I lived there until I went to Edinburgh University in 1956. I studied medicine and qualified as a doctor in 1962.
Though I often visited my parents, I finally left Stocksmoor, as my home, on July 28th, 1962 when I married.
Chapter 1 - 2013
» Late September
“Now, sir, can I help you? What would you like to drink?”
“Just a tonic water, please,” replied Brian, “and then I’ll order some food if you don’t mind.”
He looked at his watch. Five thirty. He decided that he would just stay a while – about an hour or maybe two. It would be his last time here, so he wouldn’t rush. Anyway, he didn’t like driving along the motorway in heavy rain and hoped it would have stopped completely by then. He wasn’t in a hurry, so he would just ‘play it by ear’. He felt ‘released’ from stress. It was a new and recent experience and he still savoured every minute. He actually fancied a long cool drink, a beer or a pint of coke. But it would take very little to put him to sleep, and he would need to concentrate hard if he was to travel home this evening. He didn’t want to have to stop again on the way back and it would just be his luck to be stuck in a long motorway queue, with a full bladder. He wasn’t neurotic, at least he didn’t think so, but it had happened before - which had not been comfortable! He was used to travelling up and down the country; he had done so for several years.
He had stayed at the motel next door many times. He was glad that his colleague at work had recommended it. He had always thought that it was attached to the pub, ‘The Dun Cow’, but had never bothered to ask if his assumption was correct. All he knew was that each time without fail, he had been comfortable in the motel and well fed in the pub. He was now in the bar lounge of the pub, where he had spent many evenings.
“You’re very busy,” he observed. He had waited ten minutes before getting the attention of the lady serving behind the bar.
“Yes, we have been very busy all afternoon. So sorry for the delay, sir.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. Pleased to meet you. I haven’t met you before.”
“Oh, I’m June, a friend of Tom’s wife. There has been an event in the back room this afternoon. It’s been hectic and seems to have gone on for ever. It started at half past two. I think it’s just about finished. I’m helping out. I live nearby, so it’s easy. I usually get called in if there is something special going on. Will you order a meal? We can serve food in about half an hour?”
“Yes, indeed. I’ve broken my journey especially for the roast beef dinner and, hopefully, apple pie. They’ve always been my favourites here. Is Tom around?” asked Brian. He’d only had a light lunch at 12 noon and he couldn’t miss the chance of a final ‘Stocksmoor special’.
At that moment Tom entered the bar. “Brian! What an unexpected pleasure. What brings you back this way? No offence, but I thought we’d seen the last of you two weeks ago.”
“So did I,” answered Brian, “but Len, you know, my old boss, sent me an email. He asked me to go to the office today. His message was short but none too sweet. No please or thank you! ‘Brian,’ it read, ‘meet me at 11.30 am, next Thursday, sharp, Leeds office, to iron out some unfinished business’. I was a little worried, as you might expect. I knew Len wasn’t happy with my leaving, but I was sure that I’d left everything absolutely in order. I’d checked everything I could think of. Several times in fact. I nearly phoned him, to see what it was all about. But in the end I didn’t. Sarah’s response was, ‘You’ll have to go, you know, so I shouldn’t bother. You’ll find out when you get there, and that will be soon enough.’ Anyway, I turned up as ordered.
“Lo and behold there was Len, all the staff – even three from the other office, and a sandwich, sausage roll, and quiche buffet, with fruit, coffee and a glass of wine. All set out ready. He’d arranged it just for me. He apologised that he’d not had time to organise anything before. He hadn’t expected me to leave and he’d been away during my notice. After we had eaten, he took me aside and, out of hearing of the others, he asked me not to open the envelope he was going to give me until I had left the premises. Then, in front of the staff, he gave me a sealed envelope and let everyone know that it was a token of his respect and thanks for all my hard work Do you know, he has given me a cheque as a leaving gift? A thousand pounds! No less. Isn’t that fantastic?”
“That is amazing. You don’t usually get anything like that these days,” agreed Tom.
“I shall give it to Sarah. After lunch, we’ve all spent the afternoon chatting, about this and that. I’m afraid no work was done, but Len didn’t seem to mind.”
“All I can say is that I am really pleased for you.”
“Well, I did turn loss to profit for him, yes, a really good profit. But it’s very satisfying to have my contribution to his success recognised. I was really overwhelmed at his gesture. After all, I was only doing my job and he did pay me. Quite well in fact. I’ve been very lucky.”
“You earned every penny, considering all your long hours and nights away from home. Our gain of course, but that’s not the point. But, at least he has rewarded you for the extra ‘pound of flesh’ that he seemed to expect, and which we all know, you gave. I recall that you always seemed very tired.”
Tom went over to a table near the bar where there were two small piles of books. He picked up one from each pile and gave them to Brian.
“Here’s something else for you. There are just a few left over today. Take them as a parting gift from me. You’ll never forget your visits here while you have these particular books. I know you have bought this one, ‘Beyond Mercy’ before,” continued Tom and he pointed to one of the books, “and you may by now have this other one, ‘Justice’. But take them anyway.”
“Thank you Tom, that’s most kind. It’s like an early Christmas. No, I haven’t a copy of the second one.”
“These are not in the same league as the cheque, of course, but you will need ‘Beyond Mercy’ in a moment when I take you through to the other room. I have a surprise for you. You’re just in time to see someone I think you’ll like to meet. She’s just about ready to leave. We set the main room aside for her this afternoon. Any ideas?”
“No, I haven’t a clue!”
“Think ‘writing’. Writing books. Those books! Can’t you guess yet?” quizzed Tom. He smiled and waited.
Brian looked puzzled for a while, then, as the ‘penny slowly dropped’, he exclaimed, “Oh! Do you mean Audrey Coatesworth? Actually here in the pub? June, at the bar, tod me that you’d had an event here this afternoon, but she didn’t say who or what and I never thought to ask.”
“Yes. I asked Audrey specially. We remembered about a month ago that this week is the twentieth anniversary of when we actually took over the business from my parents. They started building the business up in the pub by cooking meals. We came to help and well, we’ve just continued. But, we’d sort of lost track of the time and hey presto, twenty years have gone. So, we wondered what we could do. As the book has more than trebled our trade already, we thought we would try and do something connected with it. Audrey was coming up this way today and agreed she could bring a load of books with her. We sell them in the pub and buy ours from her, anyway. So, it just sort of fitted in very well. She didn’t mind at all when we asked her; in fact, she felt quite pleased to be ‘signing’ in her own home village. We put a notice in the local paper, and we’ve had queues outside the door since noon, despite the weather. I think she has just about reached the last one.”
“What a stroke of luck I called in,” remarked Brian, looking at the books. “Thank you so much, Tom. I’ll treasure these and give them to Ben one day.”
They both went through a door to a rather large area used as a dining room-cum-lounge. Near the fireplace where, even though it was only September, a log fire was slowly burning, Audrey was sitting chatting to her husband and drinking a cup of coffee.
“Audrey, there’s a young man here. He would like you to sign his book if your hand will still write?”
“No problem. Hello!” She smiled up at him.
“Hello. I’m so pleased to meet you. Could you possibly just write a few words for my son, Ben? This will be his copy of the story when he grows up.”
“Of course.” She wrote ‘To Ben, with best wishes for a healthy and happy future, wherever you travel and whatever you choose to do. Audrey Coatesworth, 2013’.
“I bought your poem book, ‘Growing Up’, and Ben loves it. Sarah, that’s my wife reads it to him – very often. Oh, and she’s found your ‘Coping with Illness and Grief’ very comforting since she lost a friend last year.”
“I’m so pleased,” she replied.
“Thank you so much.” Brian took back the signed book.
“You are very welcome,” answered Audrey. “Do you live round here?”
They had a conversation for a while. There was something about her that reminded him of someone. But he just couldn’t think who that was. He would try to puzzle it out later.
“Well, that’s finished. Thank you for asking me to be here, Tom.”
“Not at all, it’s me who should thank you for all the signing. I guess your arm will ache in the morning. We’ve sold a lot.”
Audrey and Tom continued to chat as they walked through the bar area. “I’m really pleased. I like to think my books are being read. We’re just going to walk down the village to the cemetery to pay our respects at my parents’ grave. It is exactly thirty years to the day that Dad died. It seems like forever to me. I’m sure he would have loved to read my book. He wrote about the village in two small volumes, you know, just before he died. I took the map of the village from one of them and just changed the houses and names. Is it alright if we leave our car in the car park till we return?”
“Oh, of course. You have no need to ask. Can you stay for another meal?”
“No, but thanks for asking. The lunch was huge and delicious and will keep us both satisfied for the day. We’ll just have a breath of fresh air and then be on our way. See you next time.”
Tom came to his table. Brian had just finished the apple pie.
“That was very good, as usual,” he remarked, as Tom took his plate. “She’s perfectly normal, isn’t she? Just like you told me.”
“Of course!” replied Tom.
“But, you know, somehow I expected a much older woman.”
“I understand her mother never looked her age either. It must be in the genes.”
As he was about to leave, Brian could see that the car park was still busy. “It’s so much busier than when I first came here. I do hope it all continues this way in the future,” he remarked to Tom, who was standing nearby.
“Yes, the business has grown tremendously over this past year. Our son is thinking of joining us. He would take over in a year or two, anyway, but now he is thinking he may start earlier than we expected.”
“Well. I’ll be off.” Brian shook Tom’s hand. “Thanks for everything, Tom. Take care.”
“Goodbye, Brian. All the very best in the future.”
Brian left the inn for the final time. He had secretly hoped to see Bert, but there was no sign of him. If he was honest with himself, that, rather than the beef dinner, was the main reason he had broken his homeward journey by stopping at the pub. The rain had stopped. ‘Oh good,’ he thought, ‘the sky is clearing. It should be a pleasant drive home.’ As he walked to his car, he suddenly saw it. A stunning, brilliant rainbow. He had never seen one so vivid before. He stopped and stared. It seemed so near he felt he could almost touch it. The colours made a perfect arc over the valley beyond, and its end appeared to be in the upper corner of the village common land.
“Simion’s corner!” Brian, spoke - aloud. “The proverbial gold at the rainbow’s end. How appropriate!”
“Indeed! It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He turned as he heard her voice. Audrey had just returned from her walk with her husband and had stopped by Brian’s side. She smiled at him.
“Yes, absolutely amazing.”
As he looked round the car park, he noticed that, though there were small groups of people talking and others getting into their cars to leave, no one else was taking any notice.
“How very odd! They can’t possibly see a rainbow like this every day, can they?” He suddenly felt rather bemused.
“Maybe they don’t see it at all,” replied Audrey, as she walked away.
Walking, as in a mist
Towards the new unknown
Time can never stop
And no future is she shown
Walking, at the same pace
Though, often, she would run
If she could, away from
The sound of war and gun
Walking, step by equal step
Her face is etched with pain
Will she ever find a place
Where peace and quiet reign?
Walking with a heavy heart
Why must earth be this way?
Yet, she cannot leave her task
Of creating another day
Walking, eyes full of tears
She thinks of home and love
Those with whom she can rest
In the heavenly court above
Walking, she remembers
The ones who had no voice
But, while the human race exists
She has no other choice
Walking ever onward
Her legacy left behind
Knowledge, hidden, that will change
The beliefs of all mankind
» The casket is buried
Miriam and Miranda stood arm in arm, dark cloaks draped around their heads and shoulders with their silk lined hoods almost hiding their faces. Although it was warm weather, in fact, the middle of what was turning out to be a hot summer, it was now very late in the evening and there was a definite chill in the air. It was welcome after the heat of the day, but they both felt shivery.
Maybe it was their task, along with their apprehension of being back on the common land of this village, which contributed to the feeling of uneasiness and cold. This common land, once a place of fun and games, now seemed sinister in its dark mantle of recent history. Four long years had dragged past since the day they were taken from this village. The life they had known then had disappeared for ever.
“I feel scared. Do you think we made the right decision?” whispered Miriam.
“Oh yes,” replied Miranda, softly, “we just had to come. Our Mamas were very brave and we have nothing to fear. Uncle Richard will look after us as he has always done. He wouldn’t have brought us if he thought there was any danger for us now.”
They had prepared for this journey since the evening when their uncle, Richard, had visited them, just three weeks ago. After they had all greeted each other, he went out to look at their horses as he always did. He could never pass a horse without checking it was fit and well. Then, before they sat down to dinner, he had taken a calico wrapped object out of the canvas bag he had carried with him.
“Inside this parcel is a book. I have recounted everything that I found out about the deaths of your mamas and aunt, Catherine. Robbie has kindly scribed it for me over the past few months as and when I have felt able to dictate to him. His hand is much better than mine and he wanted to do it as a gift to us all. I have tried faithfully and truthfully to record everything. Neither Nell nor I have ever told you the whole of what happened as you were too young and too upset to either listen or heed.”
“And I shall never tell them,” interjected Nell, interrupting his carefully controlled voice.
“No, I know that Nell, but we both agreed that they have a right to know. Time has stood still long enough in all our lives and needs to start to move on again.”
He faced Miriam, Miranda, James and Mark.
“I have brought this book in case any of you wish to know the truth. You can all read and I shall leave it with you. It is not easy reading as you will understand, but please, just remember that your mamas and aunt are not now in any pain. Of that I am sure.”
He put the parcel on the cabinet behind him.
“I shall come back in a week and tell you of the arrangements for my journey, should any of you decide to accompany me. I plan to bury this book as a memorial to the three of them. I shall put it in your grandmama’s casket and then inside one of my metal boxes. Maybe in time to come, it will be discovered. I have a mind to think that one day the world will need to know of evil deeds done in the name of the Church. It will be buried where it all happened, in Stocksmoor. I have chosen ‘Simion’s corner’. My book is as complete as it shall ever be and I want as much as possible of my grief, and I hope yours, to be buried with it, or else our lives continue to be tormented.”
During the next two weeks, they all read the book except Mark. The girls had talked and cried together, sharing their sorrow at what they learned. James read separately and silently and made no comment to Mark or to the girls. None of them knew that Mark had not read the book. All four had determined that they would travel with Uncle Richard to bury the casket.
Now they were here and they were finally saying, ‘Goodbye’. Richard hoped that they had been helped with knowledge of the truth. He was sure there had been many unanswered questions in their young minds.
They watched as Uncle Richard and their two brothers dug a hole in the ground as quietly as was possible. Digging is not a silent event, but the three were doing their best. They did not want to alert anyone as to their whereabouts. Simion was nowhere to be seen. They had brought pickaxes to break up the ground. The hot weather had caused the ground to be compacted and it was as hard as stone. In the stillness any noise carried. They had waited deliberately until it was dark, but, in their planning, they had hoped for just such a night. It was clear and cloudless with a bright moon showing enough eerie light to let them see what they were doing without using burning torches. The people here still lived in fear. Maybe some felt guilt, some shame, and for a few, it was sorrow, but what was certain was that none had been left unscathed.
The young women had promised each other that they would not cry as both their mamas and aunt might be watching. They didn’t want them to be sad. But, now they both realised it was a promise that neither could keep as, try as they may, they could not stop the gentle and continuous stream of tears flowing down their pretty faces.
They had discussed so many times where these women, whom they still loved so dearly, could be – now they were dead. They were sure that, as they were such kind and gentle people, they would be somewhere peaceful even though some people had hated them. But, they wondered if anywhere was pleasant or peaceful when you couldn’t be with your children. They hoped that their mamas would be with their papas. If so, then they could stop feeling so sad. But, how could they ever know? That was the problem.
“Why don’t you just rest in the wagon, lasses?” asked Richard Shaw in a hushed voice. “We will get the hole ready and then we will wake you.”
“We are alright, truly, we are. But thank you,” replied Miriam.
“We can only be here once. We want to watch everything that happens, so we can remember fully. It is the least that we can do,” added Miranda.
They had not been to this village in Yorkshire, their former home, since their mamas, Ann and Emily Kittle and their aunt, Catherine Shaw, had died four years ago.
Hi - Your son very kindly gave me a copy of this wonderful book. I could not put it down and read it over the week-end and I did not feel guilty about not doing anything in the house!!! I just didn't want to finish it but needed to know how it ended. Although it really hasn't ended yet! I love your explanations about beliefs, the highway code for life in my humble opinion. Wonderful reading
I have now finished the book. What a read! I must say that there were passages that I just had to keep on reading, wanting to know what would happen next etc. It is a remarkable
book. There is not another book quite like yours.
I must say that I liked the middle bit best, and the delightful personalities of Richard and his Uncle George, but well done, it has been some enormous effort, and I think I shall have to read it again to get the full benefit of the message contained therein.
DE Jan 11th 2010
A stunning book revealing a truth all need know. The narrative is compelling. Could not put the book down. Brought tears to my eyes but left hope in my heart. Everyone should read.