The Wrecking Storm

by Ward, Michael

‘I will tell all. However I must be quick. Time is of the essence.’ Elizabeth sensed this was some sort of a test. If successful, would it secure her entry into her host’s closer circle of friends and allies?

  Lucy took a deep breath. ‘Where to begin? Well, I was at the Palace this morning. Goodness, it is a cheerless place. No Christmas revels at Whitehall this year, I can tell you. I am there frequently and continue to enjoy the Queen’s trust. She cannot sleep or think because of the constant noise from the crowd at the Palace gates. She knows about the attack on Westminster Abbey and fears the Palace will be next. And she believes the stories about Pym - that he intends to accuse her of high treason and wants her impeached. She is quite beside herself and, it grieves me to tell you, but I’m beginning to think she is losing her wits.’

  Elizabeth listened closely but said nothing. She couldn’t see where Lucy’s story was leading, her words coming in a torrent as she switched her account from one person’s actions to another. She re-focused her attention to ensure she missed nothing, especially any traps.

  ‘Queen Henrietta Maria has constantly pressed the King to be decisive, to protect her, and this reached a peak this week when she demanded Charles impeach Pym and his acolytes. And yes, the King finally acquiesced and sent the Attorney General to the Lords to lay charges of treason before Viscount Mandeville and five members of the Commons including Pym!’

  Lucy stopped talking momentarily to study Elizabeth. ‘Yes, you heard me correctly. The King accused John Pym of treason. So why has nothing happened? Because both houses have, in effect, ignored his command. The Lords set up a committee to see if such a thing had happened before; the Commons said they needed more time for consideration…but both amount to the same thing. They’ve turned their back on Charles. Ignored his royal order!’

  ‘What has the Queen said about that?’

  ‘A great deal. As I said, I was in the Palace this morning, taking physic from my doctor to one of the Queen’s inner circle, whose sister is ill. On my way through the royal quarters I could hear raised voices from the King’s privy chamber. The door was ajar and I do not approve of eavesdropping but, where I was standing, it was impossible not to hear their majesties shouting at each other. The queen was furious, threatening to leave Charles.’

  This is it, she thought with a growing sense of disappointment. We are reaching the essence now. And if it involves acting as a go-between in a Royal marriage quarrel, Lucy must find someone else. Elizabeth was not interested.

  ‘Oh dear! This is taking me too long to explain, but it was necessary to give you all the information before asking you to undertake this task.’ Her seriousness was confusing Elizabeth. Why couldn’t she just get to the point?

  ‘So the shouting continued,’ Lucy said, drawing closer. The Queen could not believe Charles had allowed the five MPs to snub him. Instead of the Attorney General, he must go himself to the House of Commons with a troop of soldiers and arrest them. What was the phrase she used?...the King himself should ’pull these rogues out by their ears’! I thought that was rather good actually.’

  ‘Did Charles agree?’

  ‘Not at once, but the Queen was almost out of control, in a raging temper. If it was not such a dangerous move, I could believe he eventually agreed just to keep her quiet.’

  ‘So when will this happen?’

  ‘This afternoon, in only a few hours, so we haven’t long.’

  ‘Forgive me Countess, we haven’t long for what?’

  ‘To let Master Pym know, of course, so he and the others can escape the Commons before the King arrives.’

  Elizabeth experienced a rush of emotions: astonishment, excitement and more than a little fear. ‘But why would you help Pym and the Puritan junto? I thought you were firmly in the King and Queen’s camp. That’s why you wanted me to create a code, was it not? To write secret messages on their behalf.’

  ‘Ah yes, I’m afraid I wasn’t completely truthful in that matter,’ Lucy replied. I have, in fact, used the code to pass and receive information about the King and Queen to and from John Pym. As a result I have been in a position to give her certain misleading suggestions. For example, it was I who first told Henrietta Maria that John Pym intended to impeach her for treason.’

  ‘Didn’t he?’

  ‘I doubt it. Such a move could have split John’s support in the House. Far better to put the possibility in the Queen’s head, then see how she forced a reaction from Charles which would weaken his position still further.’

  John? What exactly was the relationship between Lucy and Pym? She was struggling to keep pace with the flood of revelations. ‘But your family connections to the Royal Court? Your own friendship with Strafford, the King’s chief minister?’

  ‘I know. It must surprise you but I have my reasons, which I will explain when I have more time. Now, we have to write a coded message which you must get to John Pym within the next hour.’

  ‘Me? Why? How?’

  ‘I cannot be seen anywhere near the House as I would attract instant attention. I cannot use a servant, it’s too important. Your face is not known in Westminster. You wont be able to enter the chamber but if you give the message to the Serjeant of Arms for John Pym’s urgent attention, he will deliver it. Do not entrust it to anyone else. Hopefully John will then have enough time to decode it and leave before the king arrives. Will you do this? ‘

  She tried to ignore Lucy’s eyes that were staring at her intently. With only seconds to choose, she paused and saw an opportunity. ‘Yes, of course. But I need to ask you for a favour in return.’

  Twenty minutes later Elizabeth was sitting in a sedan chair, swaying from side to side, as two of Lucy’s servants trotted down the Strand to Charing Cross, carrying her effortlessly between them. They were not dressed in Lucy’s livery and the Countess’s crest on the side of the chair had been discreetly covered. She clutched the message in her hand. It was as brief as possible to reduce the time required to code and then de-code it.

  She sat back in the chair and, entering King Street, passed the front gates of the Palace. She peeped out of the window, expecting to hear the clatter of hooves and see the King’s carriage running before them in a race for the Old Palace Yard. Instead the road was clear but the ridiculous image of her trying to push past the king through the entrance of St Stephen’s made her laugh out loud. She could hear the tension in her voice.

  Lucy’s servants lowered the sedan chair in the corner of Old Palace Yard and said they would wait for her. She got out, dusted herself down and strode into the House. The lobby was busy but she could hear voices from the chamber beyond. Good, the Commons was in session. She searched unsuccessfully for the Serjeant at Arms then asked a young man in a lawyer’s robe. Apparently, the Serjeant was in the chamber and currently unavailable.

  Elizabeth became anxious as the minutes passed. She heard a cheer outside and, fearing the King’s approach, ran out to check. King Street was still empty but she knew Pym would need time to decode the message, once he received it. She had to act now.

  Minutes later, she was returning to Lucy’s house, the bobbing heads of the two servants visible in the crowd as they trotted up King Street carrying her in the chair.

  Back in the chamber, one MP after another was denouncing the bishops in the Tower, but Tom could not concentrate on the debate. Time and again his mind returned to his encounter with the armed gang. Clearly not everyone wanted change. These street thieves liked things as they are – the constant chaos hiding their nighttime ambush of the innocents. He jumped when a Commons’ clerk tapped him on the shoulder. The young man squeezed past Barty to whisper in Tom’s ear. ‘An urgent message for you Master Tallant, from a Miss Elizabeth Seymour.’

  He froze. Why was Elizabeth contacting him in the Commons? Had Bolton Hall been attacked again. Were his mother and father injured, or worse?

  ‘Here, sir’ and the clerk thrust a folded paper into his hand. ‘Miss Seymour was most insistent that you give it persona
lly to Master Pym immediately. She was very clear about that: most urgently, she said.’ The young clerk bobbed a bow before returning to the lobby.

  Barty looked quizzically at Tom who shrugged, turning the paper over in his hand. Sealed without insignia, Pym’s name was on the front, but not in Elizabeth’s writing. He lifted its corner but could only see numbers. What on earth was going on?

  Tom would have to cross the floor of the House to reach Pym. It was customary for MPs to only do this between speeches, but her message was clear: the matter was urgent. So, with a sigh, he rose and stepped onto the floor of St. Stephen’s. He noticed he was slightly crouching as he walked across. This struck him as ridiculous as it would make no difference to people’s view.

  There was a murmur of voices then the room fell silent. The MP addressing the house was staring at him. He raised his hand in apology and the man shook his head and returned to his text. Pym was frowning and muttering to someone next to him, and lent forward as he arrived. ‘This is quite irregular, sir. If you wish to speak to me you should do so out of session.’

  Tom kept his voice low. ‘I apologise Master Pym but I know as little about this as your good self.’ Pym appeared to be even more annoyed but said nothing. ‘Someone I trust completely gave me this message to hand to you in person with instructions that you must receive it as soon as possible.

  ‘You have not read it?’

  Tom bridled at the suggestion. ‘Of course not sir. It is private, sealed correspondence.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Pym muttered as he tore open the seal. The frown on his face deepened. ‘Come Denzil,’ he said to the man next to him, ‘we must leave the chamber immediately.’

  He started to get up but then turned to Tom. ‘ I am most obliged to you, Master…’

  ‘Tallant, sir. Thomas Tallant.’

  Pym looked bemused. ‘Ralph Tallant’s boy?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘Well, there you are. Anyway, most obliged.’ And turned on his heel and walked out.

  Pym’s sudden departure caused a stir across the room. As Tom returned to his seat, all eyes in the Chamber were on him. The debate continued, accompanied by the continuous hum of whispered conversations.

  Ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of Pym. Barty spoke in his ear. ‘Well, whatever was in your message has got his attention. Pym called this debate himself to hammer home the reasons for imprisoning the bishops. Why has he now absented himself?’

  Following his father’s advice, Tom had avoided public demonstrations of support for either side in the growing tensions. It would make it easier to be flexible during the coming events. He surveyed the benches, MPs huddled together, a number pointing towards him, and shook his head. Elizabeth, what have you done?

  Then the voice of William Lenthall, speaker of the House, cut through the hubbub. ‘I seek order. Order! As you know, the King yesterday commanded the arrest of five members of this house on grounds of high treason.’ The assembled MPs erupted in a roar of dissent, shouting across the floor. The Speaker put his hands up for calm and gradually the din subsided.

  ‘Order! I have urgent information, so I must have no further interruptions. Following the King’s command, the House, believing this to be a breach of privilege, declined to hand over our five members.’

  Lenthall paused to ensure he had complete silence. ‘I am now informed that the King, as we speak, is sending a party to arrest the same five members…’

  His next words were lost in a cacophony of shouting and stamping feet. ‘I will have order!’ Lenthall shouted. ‘I must be heard!’ Again the noise subsided to an angry chatter.

  ‘And so, to avoid combustion in the House, I must ask John Hampden, Sir Arthur Hesilrige and William Strode to leave the chamber and join John Pym and Denzil Holles in a place of safety.’

  Barty’s mouth was agape. Tom wondered how Elizabeth had got this information and why pass it on? Several reformist MPs sitting nearby slapped him on the back and shook his hand vigorously. Amongst the confusion, a struggle broke out on the benches behind. William Strode was shouting furiously as friends tried to pull him from his seat. ‘Leave me be. I will face the King’s men and denounce them for the true traitors they are!’ Other MPs remonstrated with Strode who was finally led away complaining bitterly.

  By now many members had left their places to talk with others. Five minutes passed before order was called again. Throughout, Tom sat in his chair, stupefied by what he had witnessed.

  A shout came from the rear of the room. ‘They’re here!’ Then a clatter of footsteps and the sound of barked orders outside the chamber. The Commons instantly fell silent, members trying to hear who was in the lobby. An MP on Tom’s left started murmuring to himself: ‘There are hundreds of them. Papist rogues, desperate soldiers – come to cut our throats.’

  Still nothing, then finally the sound of the lobby door slowly opening, echoing throughout the chamber. All lent forwards, straining to see who was entering the Commons.

  A single person walked in. He took ten steps, paused, removed his hat and a gasp filled the room. The King.

  Tom turned to Barty whose face was ashen. This was difficult to comprehend. He always wondered if one day he would see his monarch, but never imagined it would be in the Commons, arriving without invitation. The slight figure walked towards the Speaker’s chair, looking to his left and right at the faces of the hushed MPs, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Surely he has not come alone, and he checked the doorway, which had been left open to reveal a large group of armed men waiting in the lobby.

  The King stopped in front of Speaker Lenthall. There was total silence, an image Tom would never forget. A small man, the absolute focus of attention for the hundreds surrounding him, waiting as the mood became taut as a drawn bowstring. Finally, he spoke. ‘By your leave, Mr. Speaker. I must borrow your Chair a little.’

  In the midst of the tension, he was amazed by the incidental things he noticed: the King’s perfect manners, and his Scottish accent.

  King Charles stood in front of the Speakers’ chair and addressed the members.

  ‘When I called for the five gentlemen yesterday, I expected obedience, not a

  m-message. I would not break your privileges, but t-treason hath no privilege.’

  There was a murmur in the room. The King remained impassive. There was only a trace of his renowned stammer, and little emotion in his voice. Tom might have expected anger, given the King had been made to come to them. But if he felt it, Charles seemed determined not to show it.

  ‘So now I am here, and I call again for those members to c-come forward and obey my summons. Gentlemen, I have accused these persons of no slight crime, but treason. I must have them wheresoever I find them.’

  The King stepped forward and called out: ‘John Pym’. There was movement as people looked around the room, but no response. The King turned a full circle, his head cocked to one side, listening.

  ‘Denzil Holles.’ Again there was silence. He tried to imagine the scenes if Elizabeth’s message had not arrived. The MPs could not have resisted the arrest of the five, given the armed troops in the lobby. The King would have dealt Pym a dramatic and decisive blow – the capture of the junto’s high command, but at what cost on the streets?

  ‘John Hampden’. The King continued his roll call but his voice had flattened with disappointment. And with each passing name not answered, the silence was fragmenting into an angry chatter. In a matter of minutes, the King’s dramatic political theatre was descending into a devastating farce.

  When the last names were called, and no reply came. The King turned to Speaker Lenthall and asked where the five were. This will be interesting, he thought. The Speaker had not impressed in his dealings with him. He seemed weak to Tom and possibly corruptible. When Lenthall dropped to his knees, he expected the worst, but he was surprised.

  Lenthall’s voice echoed around the chamber: ‘May it please your majesty, I have neither eyes to see nor
tongue to speak in this place, but as this House is pleased to direct me. I humbly beg your majesty’s pardon that I cannot give any other answer than this to what your majesty is pleased to demand of me.’

  The King’s head darted up and his body stiffened. Once again the chamber was held in a dreadful silence. Barty was sitting with his head in his hands, his body trembling. The moment had not been lost on anyone. The speaker had placed the rights and freedom of Parliament before the will of his monarch. And, in so doing, had publicly humiliated the King.

  What would Charles do? He could not back down surely? Tom was betting the Speaker would be arrested but was mistaken again, as the King turned on his heel and walked away from Lenthall.

  ‘Tis no matter. I think my eyes are as good as another’s and…’ and here he surveyed the benches for a final time, ‘…I can see that all my birds have flown.’ And, at that, he turned towards the lobby, placing his hat on his head.

  The King paused at the door. His voice was now shrill, no longer controlled.

  ‘I do expect that you will send them unto me as soon as they return…if not, I will seek them myself, for their treason is foul, and such a one you will thank me to discover.’

  And, with that, he stepped out of the room to an eruption of shouting, stamping and cries of ‘Privilege! Privilege!

  Tom sat back and saw his hands were shaking. The King’s humiliation, the speaker’s defiance, Barty’s grief. He was overwhelmed by all he had witnessed, and, at that moment, recalled the Apprentice Boy outside Westminster, wildly waving his pamphlet in his face. The Queen had been to the Commons to accuse the MPs of treason. He told him the story was a lie. It would never happen.

  But the lad had been right to believe. The world was upside down and his father’s words echoed through the fog of his shock. The wrecking storm was upon them - a vicious, painful civil war, with no escape.

  Chapter 24

  The Tallant warehouse

  Sam handed Tom the ledger with a smile on his face.