by Jean Plaidy
“That’s nonsense,” I cried.
“It is how it would be,” insisted the merchant. “And who would want to buy a crown like this? Who would wear it but a monarch?”
“You could break it up. The rubies are priceless.”
“Break up such a beautiful thing, my lady! You are asking me to break my heart.”
So they argued and the real reason was that if they bought those jewels they could be demanded back and a court of law would doubtless say they had no right to them. It was understandable from their viewpoint.
They were interested, though, in some of the smaller items. I knew I should not get a very high price for them but supposed anything was better than nothing.
My journey was not being a success and I was beginning to wonder what Charles was doing without me there to guide him. I know that sounds conceited and nonsensical too, considering the mistakes I had made, but much as I loved Charles I could not be blind to his weaknesses, and most of all the easy way in which he gave in when pressed. He needed me there to make him stand firm against his enemies.
It was a great blow to learn that Hull had declared against him and that when he had sent out little James to occupy the city in his name, the gates had been shut against him. Hull! That city where was stored the ammunition intended for the Scots!
“It is disaster all the time,” I said to the Countess of Denbigh. “We are the most unlucky people on Earth.”
A messenger came—not from Charles this time, but from someone on behalf of my mother. She was living in abject poverty in a small house in Cologne. Her attendants had all deserted her because for a long time she had been unable to pay their wages, and she had been forced to break up the furniture to burn in the grate because she suffered so much from the cold. She had little longer to live and she wanted to see me before she died.
I prepared to leave at once but was told that the visit would be frowned on by Holland for there was a strong republican feeling here and they did not like Queens. While I was hesitating another message came. My mother was dead.
Desolation hit me then. My mother—the wife of the great Henri IV, the Regent who had once ruled France, to die as a pauper! How could my brother have allowed that?
What was happening to everyone and everything around us? I could not believe that the world had grown into such a cruel place. There was another death which saddened me even more than that of my mother. It was years since I had parted from Mamie and during that time Charles had become of such importance in my life that my affection for him was greater than anything I could ever feel for another person. But I had loved Mamie dearly and always would. She had been the dearest companion of my childhood. And now she was dead.
I was stunned when I heard the news following so closely on the death of my mother.
Mamie was too young to die. Her life must have been very different after she had left me. Marriage…children…had she been happy? She had given me the impression that she had been but how could I be sure? And she had had little children. Dear Mamie, how she must have loved them and they her! She had become governess to Mademoiselle de Montpensier, who must have been a trying charge, and yet she was at Mamie’s bedside when she died and Mamie had commended her children to her for her last thoughts had been for them. She had remembered me too.
I wept bitterly. I should have been there. Dear Mamie, I thought. I hoped she had been as happy in her marriage as I had…but that was impossible for there was no man on Earth like Charles. Mamie had been so pleased that I had found happiness in marriage.
“Dearest Mamie,” I murmured. “Rest in peace and may God bless you.”
In the midst of my mourning for my mother and my dearest friend, there was one piece of good news. Messengers arrived from George Digby, Earl of Bristol, and Henry Jermyn. They wanted to join me but first wished to know if they would be welcome. I sent off at once to say I should be delighted to receive them.
“There is so much I could do with the help of trusted friends,” I wrote.
So they joined me and in spite of everything my spirits were lifted a little. I often thought how happy I could have been if Charles were with me and this was a state visit. With the Prince of Orange and his father away from the Court on military maneuvers there were not the same entertainments. Mary seemed to pine for her husband, which pleased me because I longed for my children to enjoy the happiness I had found in marriage—or should have done if our miserable enemies had allowed me to. Alas, there were not many men in the world like Charles.
Henry Jermyn did a great deal to cheer me. Digby did what he could but he was too fond of the sound of his own voice and was constantly declaiming about the wrongs of the Parliament and such matters which did not make him very popular. Henry Jermyn was different. He was merry and charming and somehow made me feel that everything was not as hopeless as it had seemed before his arrival.
The Princess of Orange gave birth to a daughter and I was asked to hold the child at the font and as a compliment to the new member of the family the child was to be given the name of Mary. But I held firmly to my convictions which could not allow me to be present at a Protestant church ceremony, so Mary took my place.
There were some—perhaps Henry Jermyn among them but he was too discreet to mention the matter—who thought that I should not have risked offending the Prince and Princess of Orange by refusing to take part in the ceremony, but nothing on Earth would induce me to go against my principles.
With the coming of Henry and Digby luck changed a little. I discovered that, though I could not sell the royal jewels, I could pawn them, for there were some merchants who were ready to advance large sums of money on the understanding that if the jewels were not redeemed by the payment of this money with interest they could legitimately claim them.
I was never one to think far ahead. I needed the money at that time and I needed it desperately and here was a chance of getting it. Ammunition, an army, ships…they were far more important to me than jewels.
Moreover the Prince of Orange who had publicly said he could not aid me, was less rigid in private. He was very proud of his connection with the royal family of England and did not want to see it become of less importance. Unobtrusively ships were beginning to slip across the North Sea and were lying at anchor in the river Humber. I was really becoming rather pleased with my mission after all. It had taken longer than I had anticipated and I had not done it in quite the manner which I had believed it would be done, but what did it matter as long as the mission was accomplished.
With what joy I wrote to Charles to tell him of my success, but whatever news we had for each other was always overshadowed by our declarations of love. I asked tenderly after his health and told him he must not worry. I was working with him. He was going to be surprised at what I was able to do. We should soon have those miserable Roundheads skulking away, hiding themselves in the country. I was longing to be in England, I told him. “Holland does not suit me. The air must be different from that of our land which you love because it is yours, and I for the same reason. I have pains in my eyes and my sight seems sometimes not so good. I think perhaps I have shed too many tears and they need the balm of seeing you since that is the only pleasure which remains in this world, for without you I would not wish to remain in it one hour.”
Rupert came to me one day at the end of August. He was wildly excited.
He said: “The King has set up his standard at Nottingham. I shall go and fight beside him. This is war.”
So it had come. I had known it would for some time, but to hear it was actually so was a great shock to me. I had to get back. I could not remain away any longer.
I began my preparations to return.
It was sad saying goodbye to Mary. The poor child wept bitterly.
“But you understand, my love,” I reminded her, “that I must get back to your father. I am leaving you with your kind new family and I believe you are already in love with your Prince and he certainly is with you. In h
appier days you will come to our Court and we shall come to yours. I shall enjoy wandering through those lovely gardens of the Hague Palace. The ornamental walls and the statues and fountains are very fine and the lovely stately hall is almost as large as our own at Westminster. You will soon be with us, dearest child, so don’t fret. Pray for us. Your father is the best man in the world and we are all so lucky to belong to him. Never forget that.”
Poor child, she was so young! It was too much to expect that she could hide her grief.
I hated the sea. It has never been kind to me. Sometimes I thought there was some malevolent force which was determined to make me as uncomfortable as possible whenever I set out on it. I had my dear old dog Mitte with me. She was always such a comfort and I would not be parted from her; I dreaded the day when death would take her from me for she was very old. I loved all my dogs and had always been surrounded by them, but Charles had given me Mitte and she had been with me so long. So I talked to her and she nestled against me and I whispered to her that we should soon be home.
The Princess Royal was a fine old English ship and we set sail from Scheveningen with eleven ships all full of stores and the ammunition which I had been able to buy. I must say I was feeling rather proud of myself and I prayed fervently that I should reach England without mishap. As the great Admiral van Tromp accompanied us, I was confident that we had a good chance of doing this.
I might have known that there would be no easy voyage for me. It was not in my destiny to have that good fortune. No sooner were we a few miles from the coast than the wind arose. What discomfort! There we were in our horrid little beds, tied down to prevent our being thrown out by the violent pitching and tossing.
That journey was a nightmare but oddly enough I seemed able to endure it better than my companions. Perhaps I had suffered so often at sea that I was prepared for it; perhaps I was so fearful of the future and of what would happen to Charles and his kingdom that a storm at sea seemed of less consequence to me. Moreover I was not so ill as some of the others and found that if I could escape from my bed and stagger onto deck, the fresh air revived me. Everyone thought this was highly dangerous but I insisted. My ladies who felt they must accompany me wailed out their wretchedness.
“We are all going to be drowned,” they cried.
“No,” I answered. “Comfort yourselves. Queens of England are never drowned.”
I was so elated at the thought of going home and by the transactions I had been able to make that I could not be downhearted. They all marveled at my high spirits and I couldn’t help laughing to see my attendants attempting to observe the etiquette of the Court and serve me in an appropriate manner though the mischievous winds tossed them about and some of them were obliged to approach me on all fours.
We had several priests on board. They lost a little of their dignity for they thought they could not possibly survive, and I could not altogether restrain my mirth to see their fear. They were usually so tutorial and I had resented being told even by priests that I was sinful and that I must make this or that reparation. So I could not help but be amused to see them in terror of sudden death when they might not have time to make their last confessions and so die without the forgiveness of their sins.
Some of them shouted to the heavens, detailing what sins they had committed, so it could not be anything but funny to hear these men who had set themselves up as our pastors admitting to such sins as fornication and dishonesty, revealing that they—who had set themselves on such high pedestals the better to instruct us in our duty—had the same acquisitive and prurient tastes as so many.
After we had tossed on that wicked sea for nine days we sighted land. Alas, it proved to be Scheveningen from where we had started out.
As we came into port my daughter, with the Prince of Orange and Prince William, was there to greet us for news had reached the Hague that we were being driven back to Scheveningen.
I stumbled on deck, not realizing what a pitiful spectacle I must have presented—pale-faced, tousle-haired, my garments, which I had been unable to change for nine days, stained and malodorous.
The gallant Prince drove his carriage into the sea so that I could be lifted into it and not have to face the eyes of the curious crowd which had assembled on the shore.
Our terrifying trip was over and had merely brought us back to the place where we had started, minus two ships; but most people thought we were lucky to have lost only two.
The first thing I did when I was bathed and changed was sit down and write to Charles.
“God be praised that He has spared me to serve you. I confess I never expected to see you again. My life is not a thing I fear to lose except for your sake. Adieu, dear heart.”
I was determined to stay only long enough to recover from the ordeal so that we could be refreshed and ready to start again.
We landed at Burlington Bay in Bridlington. It was bitterly cold for the snow lay on the ground, but I did not care. I had landed safely and I had a squadron of ships containing the treasures we needed. I was exultant. Soon I should be with Charles.
It was a quiet spot but I noticed a little thatched cottage close to the shore and this appeared to be the nearest habitation and the only one from which I could watch the unloading of the stores so I said that was where we would stay.
I sent some of the men to arrange this and very shortly I was in the cottage eating food which had been prepared for me. Now that I had arrived I realized how exhausted I was. During the first disastrous stage of our voyage I had hardly slept at all and now that I was becoming easier in my mind there was nothing I needed so much as sleep. And I think this applied even more to my attendants, who had suffered far greater from the ravages of the sea than I had.
We could not begin to unload until I heard from Lord Newcastle, who was in charge of the area and who, I knew, was a staunch supporter of the King. I needed his help in the operation, for we should have to get the arms and ammunition to the King’s forces as soon as possible. So the wisest thing to do was to rest.
I went into the little room which had been made ready for me and I stood for a moment looking out of the tiny window at the fog which was settling on the sea and my eyes strayed to the snowy-roofed houses of the town. Where was Charles? I wondered. I should soon know. I could imagine his delight when he heard that I had landed safely in the country.
Then I lay down on the bed and was soon fast asleep.
I was awakened by the sound of a shot and as I sat up in bed I heard voices and running footsteps as the door of my room was flung open. Someone came and stood close to the bed.
“Henry!” I cried for in the dim light I could recognize Henry Jermyn.
“You must get up at once,” he told me. “We have to get out of this cottage. Four ships belonging to the Parliament have come into the bay. They know you are in the cottage and are opening fire.”
He seized a robe and wrapped it round me.
“Hurry!” he commanded, forgetting in his agitation that he was speaking to the Queen.
I allowed myself to be wrapped up and hustled into the open, where my ladies and other attendants were impatiently waiting.
“We must get away from the shore,” said Henry; and even as he spoke the cannon balls were firing on the village and one hit the roof of the cottage I had just vacated. “Hurry,” went on Henry. “We must take cover.”
Then suddenly I remembered that Mitte was still sleeping on my bed. I stopped short and cried: “Mitte. She is back there in the cottage.”
“We cannot think of a dog now, Your Majesty.”
“You may not,” I retorted, “but I do.” And breaking away from them I ran back into the cottage.
Although a cannon ball had hit the roof it had not destroyed the place and Mitte was curled up and sleeping soundly through all the commotion. She was a dear old creature and quite infirm nowadays but I always remembered her as the mischievous puppy she had been when Charles gave her to me. I snatched her up and ran out
of the house to where my party was anxiously waiting for me.
Henry would have taken the dog from me but I would not let her go.
The shots were coming faster and one came so near that when it buried itself in the ground the soil came up and was spattered over our clothes and faces. I was hurried through the village to the ditch which surrounded it and Henry made us all lie in this so that the shots could whistle over our heads and where, apart from a direct hit, we could be safe.
I crouched there with Mitte in my arms and my thoughts were for the ammunition I had brought to England. It would be unendurable if after all my endeavors it were to fall into the hands of the enemy.
After about two hours spent most uncomfortably in the dirty ditch, the firing ceased. Some of the men went out to see what had happened and came back with the news that van Tromp had sent word to the Parliamentarians that if they did not cease their bombardment—neutral though his country was—he would open fire on them.
I was delighted of course but a little annoyed with van Tromp for waiting so long before making his declaration.
“He took his time,” I commented drily.
How relieved I was to see our attackers had retired! They must have realized that they could not have made much of a show against van Tromp and his mighty squadrons.
Henry Jermyn convinced me that I could no longer stay in the cottage, even though the damage from two cannon balls had been slight.
“Boynton Hall is but three miles from here,” he explained. “It is the only mansion in these parts. Three miles is not such a great distance and you could come to the coast and from there each day watch the unloading of stores.”
“Boynton Hall? To whom does it belong?”
Henry grimaced. I always told him that his mischievous humor would be his undoing—but I liked it all the same.
“I am delighted to tell Your Majesty that it is the home of Sir Walter Strickland,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows and then we were both laughing. Strickland had been the envoy to the Hague at the time I was trying to raise money and arms, and as he was a firm supporter of the Parliament he had done everything possible to frustrate me.