Lords of Misrule (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 4)

by Stella Riley

  ‘And vice versa,’ murmured Eden. Then, helpfully, ‘If you were thinking of leaving, Mistress Neville’s maid appears to be waiting to show you out.’

  Ellis narrowly avoided grinding his teeth and, with a curt bow, strode from the room.

  Eden shut the door behind him and eyed Lydia enquiringly.

  ‘Is it a case of there being safety in numbers – or do you just enjoy seeing them glare at one another?’

  ‘Neither.’ She dropped into a chair, her hands curled into fists in her lap. ‘They were all already here when I got back. I was --’

  ‘Wait.’ He frowned. ‘Are you saying they arrived in your absence and your servants let them in?’

  ‘Yes. Of course, there’s only Nancy at the moment. She tried to send them away --’

  ‘Get a man. Someone with the ability and authority to oversee the household and deal with anyone who thinks they can just invade your privacy without so much as a by your leave.’

  ‘Yes. I probably will. There’s been no time yet to --’

  ‘Make it a priority.’

  Lydia stood up again, pink with annoyance

  ‘Colonel Maxwell,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve already had a very trying half-hour with three gentlemen – two of whom I’d have been happy not to see. If, on top of that, you’re going prevent me finishing every blasted sentence, I shall probably become extremely …’ She stopped.

  ‘Extremely what?’ Eden asked hopefully.

  ‘Uncivil.’

  He gave a choke of laughter.

  Lydia scowled at him. ‘It’s not funny!’

  ‘Forgive me – but it is. Uncivil? You can do better than that, surely?’

  ‘Of course I can – but after your help on Tuesday, I’d sooner not be rude.’

  ‘Don’t let that hold you back. I can take it.’ He grinned. ‘I can even be fairly uncivil myself when the occasion warrants it.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed,’ she said waspishly, wishing he’d stop smiling at her and holding tight to her annoyance because it was better than behaving like a complete imbecile.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ he encouraged. And then, when she sealed her lips tightly together refusing the provocation, ‘I know what it is. I didn’t bring flowers.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to bring flowers. I didn’t want them to bring flowers either. And anyway – just look at them! The roses are half-dead, I can’t abide lilies and I doubt there’s a single vase in the house.’ She let out a huff of exasperation. ‘This is a ridiculous conversation.’

  ‘But effective.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When I arrived, you were angry, weren’t you? Angry that they were here uninvited – or indeed at all – and angry because you wanted to tell them so but good manners wouldn’t let you.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Good. And now you’ve vented some of that anger snarling at me --’

  ‘I did not snarl at you.’

  ‘Oh you did. Fortunately, I enjoyed it. We didn’t argue at all the other day and I quite missed it.’

  Lydia drew a steadying breath and, in a tone which even to her own ears sounded sulky, said, ‘Now you’re calling me argumentative.’

  ‘And so you are,’ came the maddening reply.

  ‘I am not!’

  Eden folded his arms and grinned at her, saying nothing. And suddenly Lydia felt laughter bubbling up. She said unsteadily, ‘Colonel Maxwell, you are atrocious.’

  ‘Eden,’ he replied unexpectedly. ‘My given name is Eden. I don’t think using it will lead you into a life of vice, do you?’

  ‘No.’ Laughter died as quickly as it had come. She liked him far too well already and he was making it all too easy for that liking to slide into something more. She cleared her throat and said, ‘Despite appearances to the contrary, I was glad to see you earlier. But you haven’t told me why you came … that is, if you had any particular reason?’

  ‘I had, as it happens.’ Just not the one I’m going to admit to. ‘Troopers Buxton and Hayes and one or two of your other workers want to meet Colonel Brandon so I’m arranging for them to do so tomorrow evening over a meal in a tavern. But Gabriel is interested in the lorinery and would like to visit. He knows about your rule and will abide by it. In fact, I suspect he’ll take a look around and then cross-question you on your general organisation.’

  Lydia gave the merest suggestion of a shrug.

  ‘He’s welcome to visit and I’m happy to answer any questions he may have – though I don’t see why he’d want to know.’

  ‘It’s because he does something not entirely dissimilar himself,’ replied Eden. ‘I’ll leave Gabriel to explain it properly – but basically he’s encouraged the tenants on his estate to form a sort of co-operative which benefits everybody and keeps the rents low.’

  ‘Really? I’ve never heard of anything like that.’

  ‘Neither have I. Come to that, I don’t suppose Gabriel had either until he realised he had to find a way of making Brandon Lacey solvent without also making his people worse off than they already were.’

  She eyed him thoughtfully.

  ‘The Colonel doesn’t sound much like Sir Ellis.’

  ‘He’s nothing like Sir Ellis. The only thing they share is a father. Ah.’ Eden stopped. ‘I should have asked. Does illegitimacy bother you?’

  ‘Of course not. Why should it?’

  ‘Excellent. Then will the day after tomorrow suit you?’

  * * *

  Colonel Brandon’s visit to the lorinery was a huge success all round. The men were delighted to see him and he responded to their quips with terse ones of his own that had everyone laughing. He peppered Lydia with questions on every aspect of the business as well as her hopes for its future and listened intently to the answers. Then he explained how things worked at Brandon Lacey and why changing the status quo had been necessary.

  At the end of two hours when he was about to leave, Lydia looked curiously up into eyes the colour of storm-clouds and said, ‘Not that I’m not glad you’re doing it … but, after everything you’ve told me, I’m a little surprised you’re willing to sacrifice five months of the year to sit in the Parliament.’

  ‘It’s an extremely reluctant sacrifice,’ he replied. ‘But in the end I realised it had to be made because if the entire country descends into either political chaos or the rule of the sword, there’ll come a point when Brandon Lacey won’t be immune. As for the rest, I’ve known Oliver Cromwell for a number of years and there was a time when, had I been told that one day he’d assume the mantle of kingship, I wouldn’t have believed it. Now, however, I merely remember and worry about something he once said.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Nobody rises so high as he who doesn’t know where he’s going.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  NINE

  When Cromwell had chosen to open the first Parliament of the Protectorate on the anniversary of his victories at Dunbar and Worcester, thought Gabriel Brandon sardonically, he had plainly not taken account of the fact that September 3rd would fall on a Sunday. The result was that the Godly set up an immediate clamour against not keeping the Sabbath day holy – which, in turn, meant that none of the four-hundred-and-sixty elected members could take their seats until the religious services of the day were over.

  The chamber was noisy, the benches crowded and no one seemed to know what was happening. In short, it was no better than Gabriel had expected. He passed the time mentally putting names to faces, which drew him to the conclusion that there were two main groups. One was composed of men who’d still been sitting in the Rump at the time Cromwell had dissolved it the previous year; men like Haselrig, Whitelock and Lenthall. The other was the presence of the Army; a plethora of senior officers such as Desborough, Harrison, Skippon … and Lambert.

  Gabriel met the latter’s eyes and received a nod of acknowledgement. It was just as well, decided the Colonel sourly, that they were too far
away from each other to speak.

  Eventually, in the middle of the afternoon, came a summons for the members to attend the Lord Protector in the Painted Chamber.

  There was a sudden shout of, ‘Sit still! Do not stir!’ and the call was immediately taken up by a dozen or so other voices.

  Gabriel looked across at the instigator, still stubbornly seated and recognised him as John Bradshaw – the fellow who had presided over the late King’s trial.

  Holy hell, he thought grimly. Is this how it’s to be?

  Fortunately, virtually everyone ignored Bradshaw and got to their feet, grumbling.

  Crammed like herrings in a barrel inside the Painted Chamber, it was fortunate that, for once, Cromwell was disposed to be brief. Having begged the members to embrace a spirit of unity and reason, he asked them to reassemble the following morning – first to listen to a sermon in Westminster Abbey and then to hear his own address.

  An hour later, Gabriel was back in the parlour at Cheapside.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Eden.

  ‘What do you think?’ came the irritable reply. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Ah. Well, if you’ve found today annoying, I can’t wait to hear what you make of tomorrow.’

  ‘Why?’

  Eden smiled acidly. ‘He’s having a procession. I know because I’m in it.’

  * * *

  Colonel Brandon had no intention of attending the service in the Abbey. He’d had more than enough of wasting time with endless prayer meetings during the Army debates at Putney back in ’47. So he leaned against a wall by Palace Yard and watched the approach of something not far short of a royal progress.

  The coach bearing Cromwell, his son, Henry, and John Lambert was large, heavily ornamented and very clearly new. Around and behind it, hats in hand, marched a hundred officers and soldiers; as much a demonstration of power and status as it was a guard of honour. Amongst the watching crowd around him, Gabriel heard rumbles of disgust. He wondered whether Cromwell didn’t know or simply didn’t care how much public opinion was turning against him.

  Inside the Painted Chamber it got worse. They’d erected a damned throne. A great carved and gilded thing, set two steps above the assembled company.

  They might as well put a crown on his head and have done with it.

  The Lord Protector was accompanied with all due pomp and ceremony to his appointed place and a hush fell over the chamber.

  Over in the far corner, Gabriel could see Samuel Radford – poised to record events as close to verbatim as made no matter in his extremely accomplished short-hand. Although Gabriel had twice taken supper with Jack and Annis during the last week he hadn’t yet come across the young Leveller. Idly, whilst waiting for Cromwell to begin, he wondered if Sam had changed at all … and then, with wry amusement, decided that it was unlikely.

  Finally, after gazing for a few moments over his waiting audience, Cromwell spoke.

  ‘Gentlemen … you are met here on the greatest occasion that I believe England ever saw; having upon your shoulders the interests of three great nations with the territories belonging to them. And truly, I believe I may say that you have upon your shoulders the interests of all the Christian people in the world.’

  Gabriel’s expression became openly sardonic.

  Does he honestly believe that? If so, Louis of France and Philip of Spain might have something to say on the subject. But then, as we all know, God is an Englishman.

  The speech gathered momentum. Today, Cromwell was plainly prepared to make up for yesterday’s brevity and speak at some length. He generously chose to pass over those past events which might “set the wound fresh a-bleeding” rather than achieve the “healing and settling” he hoped for. Since these events presumably included the King’s execution as well as three civil wars, Gabriel conceded that this omission was probably wise. But the Protector had no hesitation in blaming the Levellers for stirring unrest with their foolhardy attempts to overturn “the ranks and orders of men, whereby England hath been known for hundreds of years”. And he denounced the Fifth Monarchists for believing themselves to be the only ones to both understand and properly protect God’s will.

  Gabriel folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

  Why the hell can’t he just give us his blessing and send us off to start work?

  But of course that was too much to hope for. First he had to indulge in self-congratulation regarding the achievements of his Protectorate thus far; law reform, regulation of the Church, peace with the Dutch and foreign treaties with Denmark and Portugal. It was therefore some time before he finally he came to the only thing which, in Gabriel’s opinion, needed to be said at all.

  ‘I have not spoken these things as one who assumes to himself dominion over you --’

  Oh really?

  ‘-- but as one who does resolve to be a fellow-servant with you in the interest of these great affairs and of the people of these nations. I shall trouble you no longer; but desire you to repair to your House and to exercise your own liberty in the choice of a Speaker, that you may lose no time in carrying on your work.’

  Gabriel lingered outside the chamber until Mr Radford appeared.

  ‘Well, Sam,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘Still keeping the public informed, I see.’

  Samuel grinned, gripped the proffered hand and said, ‘Somebody has to. How are you, Colonel? It’s good to see you.’

  ‘Likewise – though I’m due at the House and can’t, unfortunately, stay to talk with you now. However … briefly, what did you make of that?’

  ‘Hard to say. He was less fervent and Godly than when he addressed the Barebones Assembly. I suspect a grain or two of disillusion. But whether he’s seriously looking for Presbyterian support is anybody’s guess. Personally, I doubt it.’ Samuel hugged his papers to his chest and said rapidly, ‘The first two or three days should be a fair indication of how things will go – so I’ll catch up with you then.’

  By the time everybody was back on their benches in Westminster Hall the day was already well-advanced with the result that the House conducted only two pieces of business.

  It chose a Speaker; and it ordained a fast day to be held on September 13th.

  Hell and the devil, thought Colonel Brandon. And left the chamber before anybody could engage him in conversation.

  * * *

  Having spent the afternoon arranging duty rosters with Ned Moulton at Whitehall, Eden came home to find Gabriel scowling into a tankard of ale. Since this did not bode well, Eden filled a tankard of his own, sat down and said, ‘All right. I can see that the day has left you unable to contain your enthusiasm. So tell me.’

  ‘Cromwell,’ said Gabriel bitingly, ‘addressed us from a bloody throne – or at least the next best thing to one – and talked for what felt like an eternity.’

  ‘Of course. He’s always liked the sound of his own voice. What else?’

  ‘He instructed us to sod off to the House and elect a Speaker.’

  ‘Not, I presume, in those exact words?’

  ‘No. Some fool proposed Bradshaw.’

  Eden stopped being facetious and groaned. ‘Tell me they didn’t choose him.’

  ‘They didn’t. They just did something equally crass. They elected William Lenthall.’

  There was a long silence. Then, ‘You’re not joking, are you?’

  ‘Do I look as though I’m joking?’

  ‘No. Unfortunately.’

  ‘They elected the same Speaker who served the House from 1640 to the day, thirteen years later, when Cromwell tossed it out. I don’t know what that tells you … but it tells me that the relationship between this Parliament and the Protector is likely to prove similar to the Long Parliament’s relationship with King Charles. In other words – stormy.’

  ‘Well, we expected that … even wanted it.’

  ‘No. What we wanted was to ease Cromwell into working with Parliament – not alienate him from the outset. With a bit of give-and-take on both sides
, we might expect to effect some change – such as a return to constitutional government and a respect for the letter of the law; and, in time, even some diminution of Cromwell’s power. But I’ve a feeling that this House is so hide-bound and full of past grievances that it’s likely to plunge straight into confrontation. Oh, Oliver’s packed it with a large – some might say overly-large – Army presence in addition to the members of the Council. But my impression is that disgruntled Rumpers and Presbyterians out-number it.’

  ‘If that’s so, the House should be able to make some impression with or without the Protector’s co-operation.’

  ‘Not necessarily. The Instrument of Government clearly grants the Protector and Parliament equal power to rule jointly. If that doesn’t happen … if the House blocks Cromwell at every turn … we may see Parliament being dissolved at the first opportunity. After all, since Oliver’s following in the late King’s footsteps in so many other ways, why not that one as well?’

  ‘Hell,’ muttered Eden. Then, ‘He can’t, surely? If, after the fiasco of the Barebones Assembly, he shows himself unable or unwilling to work with Parliament either, he’ll make himself a laughing-stock. And if he did dissolve the House – what the hell can he replace it with this time?’

  ‘Precisely. So we’d better hope it doesn’t come to that.’

  * * *

  On Tuesday, Gabriel sat through numerous complaints from the Republicans about Cromwell’s kingly arrogance in summoning them to his presence instead of attending them in the House as tradition dictated. No sooner was this over than another member demanded to know whether the House was prepared to hand over control of the law to a single man; then Arthur Haselrig made an impassioned appeal for establishing one form of religion and suppressing all the sects. But before any of these questions could result in a vote, a suggestion that the first order of business ought to be ratifying the Instrument, sent discussion off at a tangent again.

  Wednesday was supposed to have been devoted to a serious study of the Instrument itself. Instead, Cromwell’s Treason Ordinance of the previous January raised its ugly head. Since this prohibited any attack on the Protector’s actions or title, many members saw it as a muzzle – effectively removing their right to freedom of speech within the House. It took a great deal of persuasion from Thurloe, Desborough and some of the other Councillors to convince the doubters that the ordinance did not apply to proceedings within Parliament and avert a motion to declare the said ordinance invalid. Gabriel supposed there was satisfaction of a sort in the fact that they’d finally had a vote on anything at all.