God and the King

by Marjorie Bowen

  CHAPTER XI

  THREE PAWNS

  Three English gentlemen were walking slowly round the Vyverburg on theside where stand the spacious courts of the Buitenhof; the groundbeneath their feet was thickly covered with dry yellow leaves, and thetrees above their heads almost bare, but the sun shone as strong assummer on the placid surface of the water, and gleamed with a red firein the rows of long windows of the Government buildings; the sky was agreat luminous space of blue gold, against which the trees and housesthe other side of the lake showed with a tender clarity, like thepictures of that great artist, Ver Meer of Delft.

  There were swans and ducks on the lake; they, like the water on whichthey swam, were touched with this universal hue of gold, and seemed tobe cleaving a way through glimmering mists of sunshine.

  The three gentlemen paused by one of the posts protecting the edge ofthe water; it was near evening, and under the calm was the sense of alittle rising wind, salt from the sea. Not a word was spoken betweenthese three who had fallen from much talk to idleness; all had the samesubject in their minds, though each coloured it with his owntemperament; all of them were remarkable-looking men, and typical ofsome aspect of the great movement of which they formed a part.

  The eldest was a man still in his prime, red-haired and tanned to anunnatural darkness, with something stern, sad, and passionate in hisface, and an abruptness in his movements; he wore the splendidappointments of a soldier; across his shoulder was twisted a richoriental scarf of coloured silk and gold threads; his name was Fletcherof Saltoun, a noble Scot, who had returned from the Turkish war toassist in the enterprise of the Stadtholder.

  The second was a youth of singular sweetness of expression and delicacyof feature, plainly dressed in grey; the charm of his appearance wasmarred solely by a black silk patch which he wore over his left eye; hewas staring at the water with a melancholy air, and now and then sighed;this was Charles Talbot, eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury, dismissed lastyear from the army and the Lord-Lieutenancy of Staffordshire forrefusing to abjure his religion; he had mortgaged his estates forL40,000, which was now at the Bank of Amsterdam at the service of thePrince. He was for the moment but one of the many refugees at TheHague.

  The third was by far the most remarkable, and bore most signs ofgreatness: young, though a little older than the Earl, he was not,perhaps, half the height, being hunch-shouldered to a deformity, andthin and meagre in body; his face, livid and lined with disease, wore asparkling expression of energy, his eyes, large, noble, and everchanging in expression with a kind of restless animation, scorn,impatience, and dare-devilry; even now, when standing still, he thrummedwith his fingers on the railing and whistled 'Lillibulero' under hisbreath.

  He was that Lord Mordaunt whose fiery, careless courage had urged thisexpedition on the Prince a year ago.

  Fretting under the languor and idleness engendered by the beautiful lateafternoon and the serene fair prospect, he proceeded to lead hiscompanions out of the silence to which they were so obviously inclined.

  "Where will the Prince land, eh, my lord?" he asked of Shrewsbury. "Inthe south-west or the north-east?"

  He knew that my lord could not know what was not yet decided, but thequestion served to break the pause.

  "Why, 'tis even what they argue about," answered the Earl. "LordDunblaine was with His Highness yesterday, and gave as his father'sadvice that we should choose the north, because 'tis so easy to obtainhorses in Yorkshire----"

  "Or because my Lord Danby," sneered Mordaunt, "hath such a pull in thatcounty that he hopeth to get His Highness into his hands."

  "The Prince is very secret," said Mr. Fletcher.

  "He listeneth to all and agreeth with none," answered my Lord Mordaunt.

  "He might be more open," complained the Earl, who of the three was mostin the favour of William; but Mordaunt perhaps understood the Princebetter.

  "Dr. Burnet is to draw up the letter to the Church," remarked Mr.Fletcher. "I ever disliked him."

  "He is translating the Prince his Declaration also," said the Earldiscontentedly. "I do hope the Prince will not be led by such anextreme Low Churchman----"

  "M. Fagel wrote it," answered Mordaunt. "His Highness said the Englishwere all such party men he would not trust them to prepare it. He ishimself writing the letter to the army--you have heard? He is cleverwith the pen."

  "He may," broke out Mr. Fletcher, "trust Dr. Burnet as much as hepleaseth; but if he is to put his confidence in my Lord Danby we are asgood as lost----"

  "Better my Lord Danby than my Lord Sunderland," interrupted Shrewsbury;"it surpriseth me that he can deal with such a knave."

  Lord Mordaunt gave an impatient pirouette.

  "Why is there all this delay--delay?" he cried, "_I_ would have sailedmonths ago!"

  Mr. Fletcher roused at that. He was innocent enough in the matter ofpolitics to have been one of those who accompanied, with hope ofsuccess, Lord Monmouth on his fatal expedition, and to consider thePrince's attempt as such another enterprise.

  "You are right," he said gloomily. "The King will get wind of it, andDartmouth will have his ships spread all round the coast to prevent alanding."

  "I am sick of The Hague--sick!" exclaimed Mordaunt impetuously. "If HisHighness don't leave the cursed place soon, I'll go without him!"

  Shrewsbury laughed, then Mordaunt himself good-humouredly; Mr. Fletcherstared at the slow-sailing ducks. He did not care much what happened,but he hated inaction, and began to regret the Turks who had providedit.

  "You have heard that Skelton hath been recalled and lodged in theTower?" asked Mordaunt.

  "Yes," said Shrewsbury; "it was in the letters this morning. It mighthave been expected after His Majesty's denial of a French alliance andreprimand to M. Barillon."

  "Sure bad policy," said Mr. Fletcher, but without enthusiasm, "and agood stroke for the Prince."

  In truth none of these gentlemen guessed what a stroke. James hadactually stepped into the trap laid for him, and, seeing how great anadvantage the appearance of an alliance between him and France gave theStates, had angrily repudiated the suggestion, and haughtily reprimandedM. Barillon for French interference with his affairs. Sunderland,prepared by the Prince, had urged him on to this course, and the lettersof M. D'Albeville had served to back the Lord-President's reassurances.The Prince had been triumphant in this encounter, the States and thepeople were warmer in his cause than ever after this proof, as they tookit, of a connection, between France and England, dangerous tothemselves. M. D'Avaux, since the disgrace of Skelton, was silent withmortification, and a kind of lull hung over Europe; William was lookingwith a terrible anxiety towards Flanders, where Louis had his troopsthreatening the frontiers of the Spanish Lowlands, and so the UnitedProvinces. What would Louis do now the King of England had rejected hiswarnings and refused his aid? On the answer to that question the fateof Protestant Europe depended.

  But these three knew and cared little of these matters; their minds wereset wholly on the domestic policies of England, and occupied with avague ideal of liberty for their own faith and their country's laws, notunmingled with some desire for vengeance on the party now upper-most.

  "I saw Sir James Stair to-day," said Mr. Fletcher suddenly; "he hathcome from Leyden to join the Prince. I suppose he will take to himselfthe affairs of Scotland."

  "Nay," answered the Earl; "the Prince is all for William Carstares, apoor, mean Scottish minister; but, sir, more in the Prince hisconfidence than any of us----"

  "Carstares," cried Mordaunt, with flashing eyes, "hath been undertorture with secrets of M. Fagel in his keeping, and never betrayedthem. A brave man!"

  Shrewsbury shrugged his shoulders delicately.

  "I wish we sailed to-morrow," said Fletcher of Saltoun.

  The restless Mordaunt moved on, and the others sauntered beside him.

  "The boats are all creeping down to the sea laden with arms," he saidexcitedly. "
They lie thick as pebbles among the reeds of the islands ofthe Rhine and Meure. Sirs, ye should see them."

  "I had the Prince his command to stay at The Hague," answeredShrewsbury. "Saw you these boats?"

  "That I did, and pontoons, and transports, and the hay slung in ropes inthe ports, and the great trains of artillery..."

  They were walking towards the Gevangenpoort, the prison gate which roseup by the side of the Vyver. The hazy sky was changing to a tawnycolour behind the dark roof lines of the houses, flushed here and therewith gold and a stain of purple; little pale, shell-coloured cloudsfloated away to the uppermost heights of heaven where the clear blue wasstill untouched, and the water began to glow and burn with the reflectedfires of the sky.

  The clear chimes of the Groote Kerk struck the hour, and the sound ofoncoming horsemen caused the few passers-by to pause before entering thenarrow way of the prison arch.

  A cavalcade came into sight from the direction of the Stadhuis, andmoved at a swift trot towards the Gevangenpoort--a number of gentlemen,with two riding before the others.

  As they passed every hat was removed.

  "The Prince returning from Helvoet," said Lord Mordaunt, and the threeuncovered as the horsemen approached.

  The Stadtholder was mounted on a huge grey Flemish horse, and on hisright hand rode the Marechal de Schomberg, still erect and magnificent;the two were talking with a certain stiff courtesy; behind them came theSpanish envoy, M. Zuylestein, M. Zolms, and M. Auverqueverque, togetherwith a number of Dutch and German nobles.

  The Prince saw the three Englishmen and saluted very graciously; thesetting sun was for a moment full on his grave face, then he passedthrough the prison arch, and the company clattered over the cobbles outof sight.

  "No Englishman with him, mark you," said Mr. Fletcher.

  "Mr. Herbert told me that he _could_ not be open with us," repliedShrewsbury.

  "Yet Herbert is to have the command of the expedition, is he not?"

  "They say so; but he is full of discontent. Admiral Evertgen hathspoken against him to the Prince, methinks."

  Mr. Fletcher saluted one of his countrymen whom he had recognized, andthe three turned back.

  A steady dusk was descending, extinguishing the colours in the sky, inthe water, in the windows of the Binnenhof, and blurring those in thedresses of the people passing to and fro; only the trees and the housesretained their distinctness and sharpness of outline, and they took on amarvellous colour of living silver grey. Long deep shadows blended withthe water the beautiful irregular buildings that had been the theatre ofso many great events; the swans stood out, a dead white, from huesrapidly darkening and mysterious; their feathers were ruffled by a longbreeze that swept chilly from the sea and salt dunes at Scheveningen.

  A yellow light sprang up in one of the lower windows of the Binnenhof,and cast reflections far beneath it in the water.

  "Did you ever hear the story of John de Witt, the late GrandPensionary?" asked Shrewsbury, pulling his cloak about him. "M.Bentinck told me, and kept me out of bed with the tale----"

  "Why should you think of that now?" asked Mordaunt curiously.

  "You see that light there--the first to be lit in the Binnenhof?--thatwas his room, and M. Bentinck said that always when one passed late onewould see that candle shine and know that M. de Witt was still waking."

  "He got a poor reward," said Mr. Fletcher. "He was torn to bits on thePlaats, was he not?"

  "Anyone whose memory goeth back sixteen years will give you an accountof it," answered my Lord Mordaunt dryly. "I wish I had been beside M.de Witt that day with a sword in my hand!"

  The Earl sighed.

  "How cold it bloweth! A severe winter is presaged, do you not think, mylord?" he said. Then abruptly: "Why should good men meet such ends?"

  Lord Mordaunt laughed.

  "You ask me to explain ingratitude? By Heaven, I have not the wit forthe task."

  "Ingratitude!" frowned Shrewsbury; "but these people love the Princebecause he hath done them great services----"

  "But shall we?" interrupted Mordaunt. "Ah, sir, I think the Prince willmeet the same spirit as did John de Witt, should he ever rule inEngland----"

  "Why, God forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Fletcher.

  "What?" demanded Mordaunt sharply--"that we should ever be ungrateful?"

  "No; that His Highness should ever rule in Britain."

  Lord Mordaunt answered with some intensity--

  "Are you so simple, sir, as to think we can have a man like that amongus _not_ ruling us?"

  Lord Shrewsbury was doubtfully silent. His timorous nature had beenstartled by the sudden action into which circumstances had spurred it.A sense of loyalty, a terror of underhand methods, a dread of anythingso violent as a revolution made him already secretly regret the part hehad so far played so well.

  Mr. Fletcher answered carelessly and thoughtlessly--

  "You set too high a value on the little Prince. His life is not worth ayear's purchase."

  Lord Mordaunt flashed an extraordinary look over the fine person of thespeaker, and the comely youth of the Earl. His thin hand clutched on tohis sword-belt, and his haggard face flushed.

  "You set too high a value on bone and muscle!" he cried, with apassionate sneer. "You are jolly fellows, both of you; but who willremember you when you have been dead a year? But men," he added with aterrible energy, "will talk of the Prince of Orange, and of me."

  They stared at him, amazed at this outburst, and Shrewsbury, seeing whata frail, deformed creature he was, blushed with a kind of shame.

  "Good God!" said Mr. Fletcher, "I am not working for fame, my lord."

  "No!" flashed Lord Mordaunt; "creatures of clay--of clay! Prettilycoloured, but a breath of the fire that burneth in the little plainvessels would crack you in a day."

  He gave a flourishing bow, and walked off towards the Stadhuis.

  "An Eccentric," remarked Mr. Fletcher, looking after him.

  "I fear so. He will put himself into a passion at a word; but he wouldpledge his whole fortune for you if you were in need of it," answeredthe Earl. "How suddenly dark it is; let us, sir, go home."