by Oliver Ma
Chapter 5: The Throne!
The next few years I worked hard to bring about restoration. As soon as our little boat docked in Brest, I traveled to Paris, hoping to garner France’s support. Louis received me with dignity and gracious words, offering his condolences for the failure of my expedition to Scotland. Mazarin gave only empty promises and delayed our scheduled meetings to later and later dates. After a few month of waiting I realized I would never get anything out of France, and thus I decided to look for help elsewhere. Two Kingdoms in Europe had enough power to easily defeat Cromwell’s England. The first was France, recently arisen after its fantastic performance in the Thirty Years War. The other was King Phillip IV’s Spain. When my ship arrived at Toledo, I was received warmly by the Spanish, who escorted me to Madrid, where I met the Spanish Royal Family. King Phillip welcomed me lavishly, and when I asked for his support he gallantly promised me thousands of soldiers. He even made restoration seemed like a small thing instead of the behemoth of a task I perceived it to be. For a while it seemed like the English Throne was as good as mine, and I even begun to daydream what I would do to Cromwell when we capture him. Then my hopes were dashed when a mestizo revolt in Spanish Peru drew away most of the Spanish Royal Army, and the Spanish King could offer me no more than encouragement. After a few weeks I left, head bowed, to visit other monarchs I had listed as powerful. One by one they were crossed out. Some out rightly refused. Others politely declined. A few made demands so outrageous if I was restored to the English throne I would be a slave master rather than a liberator, and I angrily refused. Soon it was clear I would find little help from any country in Europe. I couldn’t blame them either. Almost every single country in Europe was devastated by the horrifying Thirty Years War. Most countries lost much of their youth to battles and much of its senile population to famines. Almost all had rock bottom economies. No country could afford the long, costly war that would surly result should they declare war against England.
Out of hope, I traveled back to The Hague, Netherlands, head drooped like a beggar, convinced that father would forever be buried as a criminal.
I did not have the face or courage to return to mother’s house, and I found myself walking down the familiar path to Lucy’s home. She will not castigate me for my failure, she will understand. When I arrived, two things surprised me. First of all, Lucy had a baby in her hands, a protestant baptized baby, all chubby and red, glaring at me with large eyes. The second was the well-dressed gentleman sitting next to her.
He looked important, and kept a mustache, but when he saw me he rose, took off his hat, and bowed like I was someone important.
I sat down. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” I asked suspiciously, temporarily ignoring Lucy and my son.
“The Parliament of the United Province is saddened to see your uprising against Cromwell’s dictatorial England has failed. The Dutch support all men fighting to free themselves or their country from oppression.” The man begun. I looked at him, almost rolling my eyes. I can see right through him. The Dutch do not care who rules England, Cromwell or I. All they want is to trade with England and her colonies, an action that would generate much revenue for the Dutch Government. Fortunately for me, Cromwell refuses to trade with the Dutch, a major rival to England’s dominance of the sea. As a result they will now support me in hopes that I will eventually take over England again and trade with the Dutch.
“Let me tell you, that the generous Council of the United Province of the Netherlands has granted you permission to recruit and train Royalists troops in The Hague for the eventual goal of retaking England and allying the country with the Dutch republic!” The man proclaimed. I looked at him in disbelief. Shock and gratefulness ran at the same time through my body. A place to train troop! Finally, I will be able to recruit another army, that, when it is strong enough, might challenge Cromwell’s New Model Army!
“And do not worry, we understand the royal house of England is in dire financial straits now. We will provide full upkeep of those levied troops!” The gentleman humbly, as if his words were insignificant. I looked at him with pure bless in my eyes.
When the gentleman left, Lucy greeted me, and put my child in my hands. It was only a few weeks old, and Lucy had refrained from giving him a name.
“What are you going to do about the gentleman?” She asked me.
“I don’t really know….I suppose I could take his offer and create an army.” I replied.
“Oh…why can’t you just stay and live with me, and start being a normal man?” She pleaded.
I sighed, remembering that had I listened to Lucy, and waited a bit more before I sailed north to Scotland, I would have seen the rebellion would be crushed and would not have nearly been captured and executed.
“By the way, there’s someone else here. He’s sleeping.” Lucy smiled, giving me an inside look as she led me to the bedroom.
There was a boy on my bed. He sat up as I approached. He was skinny and fairly tall, but had a boyish face. His eyes were brown, like mine, his nose pointed, and his hair worn proudly in the cavalier fashion. He had dark, heavy eyebrows and prominent lips. Over all he looked almost exactly like I looked 10 years ago.
I had a timid guess of who it was, but I didn’t dare say it out loud in fear that the boy would disappear.
“Charley!” The boy said, grinning happily, his eyes throwing all the trust, affection, and admiration the world could hold, his thin arms open wide for a hug.
“Henry?” I asked, uncertain. I hadn’t seen my beloved little brother since Oxford fell, when he was 5. I was afraid he would be shaken and traumatized by father’s death, and perhaps hurt by Cromwell when I was crowned king of Scotland, but here he was, innocent as he always was and completely unharmed.
“Yes its me! Uncle Cromwell sent me here to stay with you!” He said.
“Ok….ok…that’s great.” I said, shaken. He said uncle Cromwell. The boy does not know our vendetta against that evil man. In fact, Cromwell probably imposed numerous false doctrines upon the boy while he was in captivity.
“Why are you here though?” I asked carefully. “This is the house of sister Lucy. Why aren’t you with mother?”
“We…we fought. She beat me.” Henry replied sadly.
“Fought? So soon after you came back? Over what?” I asked.
“It was this morning…” Henry started to sniffle. “I’ll tell you, but please don’t throw me out like she did.” He asked timidly.
I sat next to him. “Henry, you are my little brother. It is my duty to protect you. What was wrong?”
“Mother demanded that I go to the chapel with her, but she prays at a catholic chapel, and I refused to enter….she found out I am a protestant, and threw me out of the house. I’m sorry I made her mad, but Uncle Cromwell taught me all about the evils of the Catholics.” He looked up at me with timid eyes, expecting me to beat him.
“Henry….poor Henry.” I exclaimed. “That is all? Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to mother for you.” I promised. “Come on, let’s go back right now. I have my own apology to make.”
Mother had become an old woman the years that I left. Her face is no longer beautiful, but instead covered with wrinkles. Her long, smooth flow of hair was now white as the pearl necklace she wore, one of the last pieces of jewelry she hasn’t sold yet. I had expected her to meet me with angry words and sharp blows like she did when I tried to run away when I was a boy. Instead she greeted me with tears and kisses. James hung in the back, silently watching. I knew James was sorry that we argued and I left, but I also knew his arrogance, so similar to father’s, would be too big for him to swallow and he would not apologize. If I was younger I would have ignored him, or fought him until he’s on his knees, begging to surrender, but now I looked at him like who he really was. My little brother, my dear kin, a valuable ally in so harsh a world. Thus I walked up to him and gave him a hug, much to his surprise.
With the rift between my family a
nd I healed, I proceeded to work for restoration. I was rejuvenated once again. Energy filled my body, and I set to work at once. I reunited with my mother and my siblings, and apologized for abandoning them. Next I called together all my friends and we began to map out our plans for an army. When Lucy visited me, I told her to go away. There is work to be done, and I couldn’t be distracted. Restoring my family to the throne is the most important task that will ever face me, and I am ready to sacrifice anything to accomplish that task.
And there are many that will help me. One day a strange man, clad in beggar’s robes, turned up outside my house. He begged entry, and Henry allowed him in. It took me a minute to recognize who it was through all the dirt caked on the man’s face.
“Thumbs!” I said, rushing to him and seizing my friend by the arms, ignoring his clothe, which were soiling my shirt. My entire family surrounded him.
“What happened to you?” I asked him.
He gave a weak little laugh.
“Please don’t implore into the past…. I only want to mend our broken friendship. Let me join your army, and I will fight as a common soldier for the crown.”
“Thumbs! Stop it! Charles would never let you fight as a commoner. You are the Duke of Buckingham, a valuable member of England’s nobility!” Mother said with pity in her voice.
I gave mother a look. So what if aristocrats served on the front line? God never forbade it.
“Thumbs, you do not have to mend our friendship by serving me and risking your life in the field of battle. Just be my friend again, and I will be more than happy to pretend nothing ever happened between us!” I told him.
He looked up at me. His eyes were bright, and I knew he was thinking about my offer, and whether what I said could be possible to achieve or not.
“I…..I would gladly be your friend again, my king.” He finally told me.
I smiled. “Good. Get up Thumbs. We have a coup to plan!”
I announced my plans to recruit a royal army on several posters which I had glued onto walls around the city. Volunteers begun to sign up almost immediately. Many young men, sons of outspoken Royalists, have grown up during the war and seen their family fortune fall. Eager to restore their family’s prestige they flocked together to join me. Within a few month we had 2 regiments, (200) soldiers training. I of course, knew little about military matters, so Wilmot tried his best, drilling the men in firing muskets, (generously provided by the Dutch Government) and maneuvering. Edward Hyde, meanwhile, put his considerable influence to use, and was soon busy writing letters and publishing articles. It was thanks to him that commoners not only in Netherland, but England itself became familiar with my views and what I would do, if the throne was indeed restored to me. It was also thanks to his many letters that my coffers were filled with generous donations of friends and allies. Thumb gradually sank into the role of the stallion bearing the throne on his back, becoming someone that I can put all my trust on. He single handedly organized my growing pool of supporters. Anthony, meanwhile became my closest advisor. He kept very up to date with everything going on back at home, and it was thanks to him that I knew the times of strength or weaknesses of the isles.
Scotland was fully put down and enslaved by 1652, having finally ran out of young men of fighting age with which to rebel again. Ireland, meanwhile, was in total upheaval. Like Scotland, Ireland initially rebelled against the King, but once Cromwell and his Rump Parliament took over, the Irish realized their life under the King was not so bad. Led by Strafford’s old Lieutenant, Duke Ormond, the Irish declared me King of the Irish and rose in revolt against Cromwell. Much like the rebellions in Scotland, the Irish were not united in their cause, with rival lords refusing to help each other in times of need. When Cromwell’s New Model Army landed in Ireland, they faced only small Irish War bands instead of large, organized armies. Before long most of Ireland’s largest towns were captured and the rebellion limited to small scales in the country sides. Ormond himself sailed out of Ireland just in time, and joined me at The Hague. Ireland however, was never fully pacified, and small rebellions sprang up daily. The old saying goes that three Irish and a bottle of ale starts a rebellion.
England was a totally different story, however. As the years passed, there seemed to be less and less unrest in England as the people gradually accepted Cromwell’s rule. There were flares of royalist fervors from time to time, including the large scale March Uprising, which secured several large cities all over England, including York. I had even sent Wilmot over to lead the rebel army. However Cromwell’s New Model Army, superior led and trained, managed to put down the rebellion and Wilmot barely escaped with his life. By 1657, rebellions were mostly small scaled and local events. Then, everything changed.
In 1658 Oliver Cromwell died painfully of a mysterious African plague, as if touched by the devil, leaving all the Kingdoms to his son, Richard. Richard, as I would later find out, was much like my father in rule. He was determined to be a good king, but he was too trusting, too stubborn, to effectively lead the country. The Kingdom’s many nobles, long kept under by Cromwell’s iron fist, rose up to command their own fiefs like little kingdoms, ignoring Richard’s orders. Within months the country has broken up into little states, much like the Holy Roman Empire had after the Thirty Years War. I felt an instinctive urge, of course, to head back and unify the Kingdom with my imposing presence, but all my advisors urged me to hold back. I remembered how Father had often been carried away by his own whims and ignored his advisors, and that resulted in many of his down falls. As a result, against my own wishes I listened to them and held back, ignoring even the wishes of the soldiers I led, all of whom begged to be sent to England to conquer the country for me. It was like this that time progressed, every single day like stones grinding together, slow and hard. England fell into Anarchy. Richard realized he has lost control, and in order to avoid losing his head he abdicated his position as lord Protector and became a common man. Parliament again attempted to rule the country, but their laws carried no weight, they had the allegiance of no army, and the common people have lost their faith in Parliament. Again I wanted to sail north and make for London, but again my advisors told me to hold back. Hyde summed up all their views by pointing out
“Land now in England with an army, and all the English will take you as a rogue with a foreign army intent on conquering England. Wait, and let them suffer. Hold back until they are begging for you to take the throne, and then make your move like a good man abiding the wish of his subjects!”
I again agreed, and watched on, hoping that with time my strength will grow and my enemies will weaken. Instead things seemed to turn against me. My friend and loyal advisor Wilmot fell ill and died during the winter while visiting my soldiers in their crowded barracks. His death was a paralyzing blow to my cause. The soldiers’ morale dropped rapidly and some began to desert. At the same time, bad news in England threatened to tear the fledging royalist court apart. By early 1659, the civil war in England had begun to slow. Nobles have started to band together to avoid being snuffed out by their neighbor. A percent of the nobles put their support behind London and the Parliament, urging for a return to Parliament’s absolute rule. What remained of the New Model Army was also put under Parliament’s control, giving the house control over most of England. A few of the stronger Nobles, however, continued to resist parliament’s advances, and again the people of England suffered, many losing their lives in the famines and the raids of bandits, but still no one begged for me to return, and I held back.
By Autumn, 1659, things heated up again as all wanted to make a gain before the peace of the winter months. Several nobles in Western England declared for me and raised my banner in their castles. Again I asked whether now was the time to make my return, but all my advisors again urged patience. I relented and waited on, and watched as the little rebellion was attacked by the New Model Army, led by a parliamentary lieutenant named Lambert. The rebellion was snuffed out like a little candle fla
me, taking a good deal of royalist morale with it. My advisors, however, seemed unshaken.
By November, 1659, destiny again begun to swing in favor of me. For most of the year Parliament seemed able to unite England. Now internal strife that always accompanied men trying to work together appeared. Parliament broke down when a new election put many old members out of the wooden seats, resulting in deadlocks and disunity in the house itself. All of England was again thrown into anarchy. Meanwhile, the new Parliament was consisted of a significant number of past royalists, who have gained enough popularity to gain the seat only by making allusions to the time of order and prosperity when father was ruling. I knew if I demanded their loyalty, they would probably at least show me some form of support. Lambert must have seen parliament’s weakness as well, and declared himself the lord Protector of all England, and began a march on London itself.
I began to write with a certain frenzy. I knew Parliament, unlikely as it seems, was now my gate back to England, and I was prepared to do anything to save it from destruction. Lambert lost a good deal of his soldiers because of his traitorous move against Parliament, but the armies he still controlled were formidable. I wrote to all men who have not declared themselves to be my enemy. I wrote to Catholics, I wrote to Calvinists, I wrote to any men that has ever pledged himself to the royalist cause. I hoped that, with the help of all these men that I wrote to, I can stop Lambert’s march on Parliament. Instead, help came from a rather unexpected direction.
Scotland was totally subdued, its pool of fighting men all but gone. An English Army of 10,000 men garrisoned its towns. At the head of this army was a certain General George Monck, a captain in father’s army during the Bishop’s War. A decisive and clear headed man, he was respected by all who knows him and Cromwell pardoned him in 1644, when his detachment was cornered after the rout at Marston Moor. During the uncertain times immediately after Cromwell’s death, Monck has remained silent, watching the situation in England while maintaining his own catious hold over Scotland. Seeing England about to be united again, and realizing Lambert’s very next target would likely be Scotland, he finally moved south with most of his army, confident Scotland would not dare rebel again.
Monck was both a strong and a flexible old reed. He let the winds of fortune blow him back and forth, never standing against it. Thus he was able to survive so long in such uncertain times. Now, even as he moved south, he remained flexible, keeping his intentions a mystery. No one knew who’s side he was on. At times he would help royalists rise against garrisons of Lambert’s Armies. Other times he would help put down such rebellions. Since no one knew what Monck actually stood for, no one made any moves against him, and thus the old General was able to march his army through hundreds of miles of “hostile” territory unmolested.
Lambert, terrified, rushed into action and moved his army north to meet Monck instead of hiding behind the stout walls of London. The New Model Army was larger in number, but it was completely different from the elite force it was during War against the King. All of the veterans have by now retired, and it consisted mostly of raw, ill equipped conscripts who didn’t believe in what they were fighting for. As a result, much of Lambert’s army deserted before he even met with Monck, and the resulting confrontation was much more of a mass surrender than a battle. Without breaking a beat, Monck continued south and entered the gates of London unopposed, at the head of a large, loyal Army. Monck had acquired virtually unchallenged control of both England and Scotland, sine sanguine.
Once in London, Monck continued his strategy of self-preservation, allowing the newly elected Parliament to continue to rule, claiming his presence serve only to maintain the peace. He had essentially won, and survived, by doing nothing, simply outlasting all his enemies. With a lull of action, I seized the initiative. I wrote a letter to Monck, asking for his allegiance. He replied politely, listing his conditions and suggestions. I found them all to be good natured and insightful, and drawing from his suggestions I crafted, (with the help of Edward Hyde) a masterpiece, which I termed the Declaration of Brest.
In the letter, I promised to return as a loving king, with nothing other than my subjects in mind. I cited my encounters with the peasants during my royal escape and mentioned my support and sympathy to them. Then I declared that I would pardon all men that had contributed to father’s downfall except for those that played a direct part in his execution. This pardon was extremely significant, as I had in one stroke undermined all support for the regicides, and alleviated the fears of most of parliament. After weeks of waiting a debate, finally the house gave me its reply. I am welcome to return to England at any time to be crowned king. What has happened over the past 2 decades will be as if it never happened. Monck approved the decision whole heartedly and backed it up with his army, and I now had de facto control of London. Immediately, I began to make plans to sail back to England. Thumbs, however, always very tentative, reminded me that this may very well be an ambush: Parliament’s scheme at luring me to London and capturing me. Thus I opted to take with me seven ships (lent to me by the Dutch parliament) and my 7 regiments (700 men) of royalist musketeers. Despite their small numbers, I know my soldiers are ready for the task ahead. They are well trained by French and Netherlands captains. They have dedication and motivation to their cause, and Wilmot, before he passed away, had trained them well. A few of the soldiers seemed reluctant to begin the journey that would finally justify their creation, and as I walked up onto my flagship for the trip across the channel, I stopped at the top and looked down at the neat rows of soldier below.
“Men, we embark on a journey that will live through history as the journey that restored the crown to a Britain embroiled in anarchy. Your names will live through history as the men who helped make that a reality. From today on, all you will have to do is to say “I was a member of King Charles’ restoration army,” and all around you will say “There goes a brave man.” My troops cheered enthusiastically, and I strode confidently onto my flag ship.
The trip across the channel was again a test and experience of itself. I was extremely nervous and had a sense of foreboding, much like a new soldier would feel before his first pitched battle. At the same time, I was eager, and felt as if I couldn’t wait to finally land on the shores of England. I felt power and authority so near, that I could already see them tingling under my finger tips.
No matter how I felt, the cross channel trip was over 5 hours after it begun, and my flagship came to a surprising halt on the sandy banks of the Thames, a few miles outside London.
Before I even stepped off my ship I began to look around nervously. I half expected a fleet of Parliament ships to sail swiftly down the Thames and sink my fleet before my troops embark. However, no long, sleek sloops sailed toward me. All the ships on the Thames were large, fat, square sailed merchant ships. After several hours all my ships grounded on the banks of the Thames and my 700 troops and nobles all embarked. Slowly we advanced upon London, not in the long and columnar marching formation of an army on the march, but in a large, wide, sweeping mass of men, so that if any army from London engaged us we would be able to bring all our fire power to bear in the least amount of time possible. Again, no force sallied to meet me, not even local militia. I had expected at least a token resistance, but we were met with nothing. The country side was quiet and tranquil. When we finally reached the great gates of London, we found them to be closed shut. Lord Monck’s banners, blue and white, hung from the walls, and his soldiers manned the walls, glancing down nervously at my soldiers . I remembered how 20 years ago, when father was still the undisputed king in the isles, he had ordered Roche Castle’s gates to open with a single verbal command, the authority of his position behind him. I was now nominally king of all the Isles once again; shouldn’t my voice carry the same authority as my father’s?
Keeping that in mind I urged my horse slowly forward and shouted up at the ramparts.
“I, Charles II, king of Britain, command you, with my roya
l authority, to open this gate!”
I looked up, waiting. For a long while nothing happened. The gates didn’t open, and my life wasn’t ended quickly by a sniper’s bullet. Finally, the reinforced steel gates of London slowed opened, and my forces entered!
Riding my horse through the streets, I had expected Londoners to welcome me with silence, and see my arrival as a final testimony of their defeat, (since they were the ones that started England’s troubles all together in 1642.) to my surprise, I was greeted with open jubilance. The citizens again turned to the streets, but this time to support me. My regiments were pelted with flowers instead or rocks, and I made triumphantly for Westminster, where Parliament awaits.
Opening the great oak gates of the House was just as much an ordeal as opening the steel gates of London. I didn’t know what I would expect. For the second time in one day, however, I was received with excitement and enthusiasm. Entering the house I was greeted with a warm applause, and immediately I realized I can count on these men to bring about my restoration to the entire Kingdom.
Over the next week I began to extend my control outside London. Wales sent its support to me immediately, and Ireland soon followed. Argyll, always disliking me, also realized the game was up and soon surrendered. Now only a few nobles in England resisted. I made my speech public, showing all of England my truthful intentions. They listened, and in many castles the peasants themselves rose against the nobles in support of me, and the nobles were bought to London chained. I had them freed, and showed all my capacity for mercy and tolerance. To execute them would show fear and weakness. To let them live shows I am confident of my power, and that I am merciful. With this act, finally all of England bowed down to me. I was crowned in July by the Parliament.
My first royal decree was to have my father, Oliver Cromwell and others dug up from their grave. Father was given the elaborate, royal funeral that he deserved. The corpses of Cromwell and the other regicides were whipped and cut up into little pieces, then scattered all over the country. The remaining living regicides, (eight of them) were given a fortnight to leave England. Those that did not were caught and executed. All the other enemies of the king were pardoned, even my father’s arch nemesis in the war like Thomas Fairfax and Manchester, both of whom were staunchly against the execution of my father.
Once again, a Stuart sat on the Throne of the British Isles. If a colonist had left the Isles for the Americas in 1630 and returned 30 years later, it would have seemed as if nothing had changed. But beneath the surface many, many things have changed. King Charles was now tough and decisive, but also flexible and wise. He had effectively become the mediator between Parliament and the army, and a figure for which all the four kingdoms of the Isles could worship and unite under. Indeed, the rest of King Charles II’s time on the throne was a time of peace, prosperity, and discovery. Britain consolidated its political and philosophical prestige in the world, becoming pioneers both in the Americas and in world of reason and enlightenment. The civil war had tested the country and its king, making it stronger and more prepared for the future than ever before, turning it from an isolated, medieval power into a power in prime position to dominate the world.