While she helped her aunt to make the King’s bed they both looked from time to time from the window to see their royal visitor walking in the herb garden or climbing the steps on to the battlements with his gentlemen. They supposed he must have slept well because he looked brisk and cheerful and seemed to be admiring the view.
“Where do you suppose his crown is?” asked Mary, glancing round the unchanged neatness of the room.
“How should I know, child?” laughed her aunt. “Surely you did not expect him to ride the best part of a hundred miles in it, or to bring it in his saddle bag?”
“He does not seem to have brought anything except his Bible.”
Even in the haste of his escape from Hampton Court he had found time and space to bring that. The exquisitely bound book lay upon his table. Together they stood and admired it. “He is very considerate and gentle and thanks people for quite ordinary services,” said Mistress Wheeler, her sharp-featured face softening. “This morning he sent for me and said he hoped his sudden coming had not caused us too much trouble. And he even had a word for old Brett when he came in to make up the fire.”
Mary touched the worn leather cover of the Bible with reverent fingers. “Perhaps he is one who really lives by it instead of just quoting it at other people,” she said, remembering how fiercely the new Puritan preacher had hurled texts at her and Frances for dancing with some of the young men at the Michaelmas Fair.
Now that the King was really with them and making none of the difficult demands which they had expected, the Castle household became less flustered. And after all the Governor did not invite any of the island gentry to dine. He had told them quite frankly that the coming of the royal party had caught him unawares and that the Castle larder was already sadly depleted, and most of them had promised to send poultry and game from their own estates. And after dining with them in Newport he brought them back with him to be presented to the King, which gave nobody any trouble at all. From the window of the housekeeper’s room Frances and Mary, with Mistress Trattle, watched them arrive, led by kind, portly Sir John Oglander. Most of them were only squires of small country manors, but to the two island girls they seemed to make a brave show.
“Here comes young Mr. Worsley riding through the gateway now!” whispered Frances, squeezing Mary’s arm. “How handsome he is! Do you suppose he will look up?”
“I like the look of Barnabas Leigh,” whispered back Mary. “And look, there is your Captain Burley. I am so glad for him that he was able to come.”
“They all look so solemn and nervous one would think they were going to an execution!” giggled Frances, all unaware how swiftly jesting can sharpen into reality.
They all disappeared into the Governor’s lodgings to kiss the King’s hand and afterwards Floyd, who was on duty, told the women how gracious his Majesty had been and how quickly he had set them all at ease. And when they left, the King himself came out and walked across the courtyard with Sir John Oglander and stood talking apart with him by the gateway.
“His Majesty has arranged to go and visit the Oglanders at Nunwell next Thursday,” Silas Floyd told the little company in his sister’s room, as soon as he was free to join them.
“I warrant he wishes Sir John were still Deputy Governor,” said Mistress Wheeler.
“If you ask me I think none of them from Hampton Court realized how thoroughly Parliament had clipped his wings,” said Floyd.
“You mean that had they known they would not have come?” asked Agnes Trattle.
Sergeant Floyd went and stood by the window, running a playful hand through his daughter’s curls. “I would not say that,” he answered thoughtfully. “This Ashburnham seems to have high hopes of Colonel Hammond’s help, and no one can say but what he has acted very properly. He told the militia captains to hold their companies ready in case of any trouble, and gave orders that any large groups of people are to be dispersed. And he has set guards at Cowes and Yarmouth and Ryde to keep all suspicious strangers out.”
“Then he means to keep the King safe from another wicked attempt upon his life,” concluded Agnes Trattle with relief.
“He certainly means to keep him safe,” agreed Floyd, more grimly. “But it may have occurred to his Majesty by now that the same guards could keep him in.”
“Perhaps that is why he is so anxious to visit Sir John privately,” suggested Druscilla Wheeler.
The Governor showed his unwanted guest every possible civility. He accompanied him about the island, visiting at Gatcombe and Billingham, and going hunting with him in Parkhurst forest. In fact, it looked at times as if he did not want to let him out of his sight. But when the day came for the Nunwell visit Hammond was obviously a very worried man. Sir John had not invited him and there was nothing he could do about it. And the King’s pleasure, as he mounted his horse and rode away, could not be hidden.
Hammond saw him off, standing respectfully hat in hand. Sergeant Floyd rapped out an order and the men of the garrison sprang to attention. The household watched discreetly from open windows. But the moment King Charles and his handful of friends had ridden out beneath the barbican the Governor strode back to his apartments and bolted the door, Floyd dismissed his men, casements were clapped shut and after the strain and excitement of the last five days everyone in the castle sagged almost visibly with relief.
“How long will he say at Nunwell?”
“Will he come back?”
“Will he try to join the Queen in France?”
In hall and guardroom and kitchen there was time now to ask such questions. But no one asked them half so earnestly as the Governor himself. “I could not forbid him to go. He is still the King,” he defended himself, pacing up and down the room where his mother sat.
“And your father was his favourite chaplain,” the old lady reminded him from her high-backed chair beside the fire.
“It would be easier for me were that not so. If I had not been brought up with this feeling that the person of a king is sacred.”
Her pretty, faded blue eyes searched his face. “You would not betray him, Robert?”
“I am the servant of Parliament.” The words, which had been held so steadfastly in his mind during the past week, fell heavily into the quietness of the room. “It is they who gave me this appointment.”
“Not from any favouritism because you married John Hampden’s daughter, and are related to Oliver Cromwell. You earned it as a soldier. Cromwell and General Fairfax both think highly of you.”
Robert Hammond picked up one of the frail hands lying in her lap and kissed it absently, a smile for her swift maternal pride momentarily relieving the anxiety on his face. “It is a good appointment. Or was—until the King came. I am a plain soldier and was only too glad to get away from all the bickering on the mainland.” He took a turn or two about the room, then added. “I have sometimes wondered why they got rid of the last Governor so suddenly and gave it to me. Now I think I know.”
Mistress Hammond patted the settle invitingly and her son sat down beside her. Because of his position there was no one else on the island whom he could speak to unguardedly. Leaning forward, his fine strong hands clasped between his knees, he stared into the fire. “Suppose Cromwell meant him to escape from Hampton Court? Meant him to come here?” he suggested.
“Why should you think that?”
“Because they got away so easily. It is true that his Majesty is a good horseman and they had a good start, but no one seems to have pursued them. I know what well-trained Parliamentarian troops could do in a few hours if Cromwell really wanted to catch anyone so important. I believe that they made me the Governor of the Wight hoping that the King might come here.”
“But why should they want him to, Robert?”
“Of that I cannot be sure. If there really was some plot on his life Cromwell may have wanted to save him; or the rumour may even have been spread in order to drive him here. It seems to me that having gotten himself all the power he needs, cousin Ol
iver would be spared much embarrassment if he could get the King out of the country. And how much better for him if his Majesty went voluntarily!”
“You mean that from here he might get right away to France?”
“The nights are dark. Even now while he is at Nunwell he may persuade this Oglander to get him a ship.”
“It would make the poor Queen very happy,” murmured Mistress Hammond, who had known her at Whitehall.
Hammond kicked at a fallen log. “Who wants to make the Queen happy? Has not the accursed Frenchwoman made enough trouble for us all? It is now only a question which party loathes her most—Parliament, the Army or the Royalists themselves.”
“Yet she has been a loyal and courageous wife.”
“A Papist meddler!” He got up restlessly, his mind back on his own immediate problem. “If only I knew Cromwell’s mind in this! Whether he would have me play host or gaoler. I would rather let the King escape, but if not I must be given the necessary authority to hold him fast. God knows I did not want the responsibility!”
“Most men would be thinking of it as an unlooked for chance of preferment.”
“It can also be my undoing if I let him slip through my fingers when such is not their wish!”
With a deep sigh Mistress Hammond rose and faced him across the table. “It is strange to think that while we have been so occupied in receiving his Majesty here, all England must be wondering where he is,” she said. She was watching him and his very stillness betrayed him. “Or do they already know?”
She saw her son turn to her impulsively as though it would be a relief to confide in her, much as he had been wont to do as a youth when uncertain of the uprightness of his actions. But divergence of political opinions had come between them, driving him in upon himself. “I sent Rolph and one of his men to London,” he told her after a surly pause.
Tears rose to her gentle eyes. “Oh, Robert, did you have to tell them—so soon?”
“I am the servant of Parliament,” he repeated.
“But your father—”
“He will understand that a man cannot cheat the hand that feeds him.” There was an obstinate look in his eyes and he was going towards the door. His mother put out a hand to detain him. “Do Mr. Ashburnham and the others know?” she asked, thinking that if they did they would surely try to get away to France.
Hammond shook his head. “I made up my mind on the boat and sent Rolph the moment we landed on the mainland. So now, until his return, I must go on playing the pleasant host—like Judas,” he said bitterly, and strode from the room to make his daily inspection of the battlements. But for once his mind seemed to be less upon flintlocks and culverins than upon the weathervane and the view. He stood for a long time on the northern wall of the castle facing Southampton, searching the water for a ship coming into Cowes.
That evening when the lamps were lit and Mary was coming from supper, Libby ran towards her from the kitchen. Her eyes and cheeks were bright. “Oh, Mistress Mary, Tom Rudy has come back!” she announced.
“And Captain Rolph with him?” asked Mary involuntarily.
Libby nodded but was too full of her own news to tease anyone. “Tom says he will marry me” she announced breathlessly.
Mary turned immediately and kissed her, thinking that the self-confident overner could not be so bad after all. “Oh, Libby, I am so glad for you! Come into a quiet corner of the hall and tell me about it.”
The servants had finished clearing the long tables and the two girls stood just inside the serving screens. “He alus said he would if he had the money, and now he has five silver pounds in his pocket!” boasted the chambermaid.
“Oh, Libby, you don’t think that he—”
The girl whose mother had been a common troll was quick to understand Mary’s fear that he had stolen them. “They was given to him by somebody important in London,” she said defensively.
Mary stared in surprise. “Then he and Captain Rolph haven’t been on duty in Cowes all this time?” she exclaimed. “What were they doing in London?”
Libby began to speak of something else so quickly that Mary felt sure she had been told not to mention London. “Brett’s sister says I can have that room in her cottage,” she babbled on. “But I don’t want to go till my time comes. It be more exciting helping here since the King came. Will you ask Reverend Troughton to marry us this very week?”
“Of course. And I am sure he will. But Rudy will have to ask Captain Rolph’s permission.”
Libby laughed boldly. “Won’t be any difficulty there,” she said. “Tom’s in Captain’s favour. But will you see parson now, Mistress Mary?”
“It is late,” demurred Mary. “And surely your Rudy has a ready enough tongue to do his own asking.”
Libby put a coaxing hand on her wrist. Some of her confidence was already beginning to ooze away. “I’m not sayin’ but what Tom had been celebrating a bit,” she admitted. “Dead sober, he might change his mind.”
Chapter Five
The Governor sat at his writing table, his inscrutable face and fairish hair illuminated by the light of two tall candles. However little he liked Edmund Rolph personally, he was glad to have his second-in-command back. “You delivered my letter to the Speaker?” he asked, immediately the Captain came into his room.
“I went straight to the House of Commons, sir.” Rolph handed him Parliament’s reply, still warm from contact with his own body, and stood watching him break the imposing-looking seals. His sharp, inquisitive mind noted with what nervous urgency Hammond’s hands unfolded the contents, and how deeply the last few days had etched tell-tale lines of sleeplessness about his eyes. Why should a man worry, he wondered, when the chance of a lifetime had just fallen into his hands? And a fine reward as well, no doubt, judging by the jubilation he had seen at Westminster. “Had I the luck to be in his shoes I would know very well what to do. And enjoy doing it,” he thought. “I would use my authority to humiliate that so-called king until he learned that he is no better than other men—not turn out of my own room for him and let him go hunting while others work. Nor let him slip out of my hands to pay visits.” Being too mannerless to wait until the Governor had finished reading, he said aloud and with truculence. “I hear you have let the Stuart go?”
“I am not his gaoler,” replied Hammond evasively, without looking up. The man’s tone, taken in conjunction with the two Houses’ stern intent, seemed to condemn him.
“It looks as if you soon will be. If he comes back. Did you have Nunwell watched?”
It was what Rolph himself would have done; but then he was not hampered by any of those instincts which make a man shrink from spying upon his guest. Before the civil war had opened up undreamed of possibilities for workmen with initiative, he had been a bootmaker. Knowing this, Hammond ignored his over-familiarity. “You are already acquainted with the contents of this letter, then?” he inquired coldly.
“In part, sir, by things they said to me at the time.” Rolph despised himself for still being subservient to the rebukes of his social superiors. He both resented and envied the advantage which their controlled way of speaking often gave them.
Aware of his unfair advantage, Hammond made an effort at geniality. “You must have had a hard ride, Captain. Sit down,” he invited, “and help yourself to some wine.” With his eyes still upon the all-important letter before him, he pushed a flagon of Bordeaux towards him and—although a temperate man himself—was startled by the violence of the man’s refusal. “’Tis a lure of Satan’s. Intoxicating liquors were the ruin of Rupert’s army!” the Roundhead Captain exclaimed in the jargon of his kind, pushing the good red wine away so vigorously that he almost upset an inkwell.
Hammond remembered that the man did not drink, and that Sergeant Floyd had recently reported complaints from the garrison because their ale ration had been cut down by the new Captain’s orders; but all the commotion of the last week had put such trivial matters out of his mind.
“Are we
to keep the King prisoner?” asked Rolph, breaking an awkward silence.
“He is to stay here, yes. Parliament considers it will be the safest place, and I am not to allow him to depart without their orders.”
“Then are we to set a guard about him?”
“Not obviously.”
“A polite kind of guard takes twice as many men. We shall need reinforcements, sir. Good trusty Ironsides.”
Although he could not like the man, Hammond found it a relief to talk with someone of his own party. Someone who shared his knowledge of the political pattern of a wider, outside world. “Do you suppose we shall have any trouble from the islanders? When they realize it is—something more than a visit?”
“We shall if the King is allowed to ride abroad and talk to them. Even if it wasn’t that they are mostly for him at the moment,” answered Rolph.
“Their loyalties seem to have remained unchanged since the beginning of the Long Parliament!” laughed Hammond. The word “uncontaminated” had occurred to him because he had so often heard it on his father’s lips, but he was careful not to use it.
“It is queer how he turns people’s heads,” Rolph was saying. “I have seen it happen in London. For months they’d be grumbling about his Ship Money being levied on inland towns and his forced loans and the way they always got his troops billeted on them if they didn’t pay up, and then he’d come riding through the streets and speak civilly to some old woman, or perform some of that idolatrous wickedness when he makes himself out to be God and touches them for the Evil, and suddenly they’d all seem to be under a spell and forget about their cruel wrongs. Stagecraft, it is, like they bemuse people with in those iniquitous theatres. I was there at Twickenham when he was allowed out of Hampton to meet his two youngest children. A lot of hysterical women wept their eyes out over young Princess Elizabeth because they thought she looked frail and needed a mother’s care. And even the men helped to strew the streets with flowers. You should have seen it, sir.”
Mary of Carisbrooke Page 5