‘Twenty-five miles along the coast. But Shoreham is only a short distance from here. I will walk with you there now, and show you where to hide.’
We were weary with walking and glad to find that Shoreham really was only a short walk away. He took us to a church and used a key to enter by a side door.
‘This is the church of St Mary de Haura,’ he whispered. ‘It is reported to be one of the oldest churches in the land.
‘The transepts each side of the square clock tower date back to William the Conqueror, or so I am told. You can hide in there until it is time to leave. Just close the door when you go. And good luck my Lord.’
And then he left… pleased to have been able to help us, but also happy that his part in our escape had been completed without problems.
We sheltered in the church tower until it was dark enough to step out onto the roof. From our lofty position, and with the help of the full moon, we waited and watched until we saw our ship glide serenely and silently out of the mist and tie up against the breakwater.
I recognised the ship as a typical Flemish double-masted coastal merchant vessel, by its conventional square course topsail.
When we were sure the ship was secured, and the town completely asleep, we moved cautiously from our hideout and waded through four feet of freezing cold sea to be hauled aboard the Pride of Zeeland by unknown hands, all eager to help. I was slightly surprised to see two six pounder cannons mounted in the bows of the ship and two more in the stern. I was later to learn they were there to discourage pirates, and also sometimes English merchant shipping, which rather surprised me.
When we were all safely on board Sven, speaking in his own language, ordered his crew to push off from the breakwater. I stood on my own in the bow of the ship as it moved silently away from the English shore, gathering speed as the gentle breeze caught its sails.
Paris and the Castle of Doves, 1651/2
We were wrapped in blankets and taken to the master’s stateroom where Captain Sven Hendrickson was waiting to greet us. ‘Welcome aboard gentlemen,’ he said as he handed us each a goblet of his finest French wine. ‘There are many who think you are dead my Lord.’
‘And yet here we are alive and well, having survived and endured against all the odds, including the might of Cromwell’s army.’
‘A remarkable achievement my Lord, and to what do you attribute your success?’
‘My loyal subjects sir,’ said Charles. ‘Despite the huge reward on my head, and the danger they were putting themselves in by helping me, not one person betrayed us.’
‘In what way were you helped? Was it financially?’
‘We were offered shelter, hidden from Parliamentarians and given food and clothing, we never asked for money but we did at one stage earn some.’
‘And you never at any time came face-to-face with the enemy… you never had to defend yourselves?’
‘Not against soldiers. But had it not been for the help of a rather large friar, we would most probably have been handed over to Cromwell by bounty hunters.’
‘Bounty hunters… and you were helped by a friar?’
‘He had a rather unique way of dealing with people he didn’t like.’
‘How so?’ asked Sven as he topped up our drinks.
‘He killed them… four of them, he killed them all.’
‘One man on his own?’
‘With his bare hands. Then when we told him in which direction we were planning to travel, he sent us on our way loaded with food and drink, and direction to a safe dwelling at a priory twenty-five miles south in the county of Monmouthshire.’
‘Have you any idea how many people helped you?’
‘I tried to count them,’ I said. ‘And I believe there must have been between forty and fifty… that’s how many people at different times knew who we were, but not one betrayed us.’
Despite the late hour our host seemed to want to talk. We were all in a state of physical and mental exhaustion but we were not tired… perhaps because we had got used to being awake during night hours, or perhaps it was just the realisation that we had finally escaped the clutches of our nemesis.
‘Nevertheless my Lord,’ continued Sven, ‘I have to admire your fortitude and resourcefulness.’
‘We have been away from the real world for over two years now,’ said Charles, ‘could you bring me up to date with the latest news sir?’
‘Our Sovereign Prince William of Orange died of smallpox on the 6th of November last year, just two days after your sister Mary gave birth to a son.’
‘I have a nephew?’
‘Yes my Lord, he will eventually become our Sovereign Prince. But until he comes of age, we will have to endure his rather pompous grandfather… Frederick Henry.’
‘Poor Mary, a widow and still not yet twenty years old.’
‘I am sorry to be the carrier of bad news my Lord, but your little sister Elizabeth has also died… she died in September while still in captivity.’
Charles with tears in his eyes emptied his goblet and lay down on the captain’s bunk.
Sven put the jug of wine on the table and moved to the door. ‘My stateroom is yours for the rest of the journey my Lord… I am so sorry for being the purveyor of such bad news.’
He left shutting the door behind him.
There was plenty of room for the three of us in the captain’s stateroom, and plenty of blankets, but I found it hard to sleep… restlessly tossing and turning while trying to imagine just how Charles must be feeling after discovering that he had lost two of his family.
The ship was now under full sail… crashing through the waves and listing at about 20%; however, I did eventually find sleep and when I woke it was midday. Charles was already up and in a more positive mood, washed, groomed and cheerful. More surprisingly was Thomas. He had shaved off all his facial hair and now looked like the Thomas of old.
I was still scratching and wiping the sleep from my eyes when our host Captain Hendrickson came into the stateroom with a jug of steaming hot coffee, he was followed by the ship’s cook who was carrying a large tray of hot food. I wanted to ask about Princess Mary because wherever she was there was a good chance Anne would be there also, but Charles got to him first.
‘Sven my friend, I am sorry to bring up the subject of my family again but can you tell me anything about my young brother Henry, Duke of Gloucester?’
‘Yes my Lord. Henry and his sister Elizabeth were originally being held in the white tower under protection of republican guards, but when an assembly of Noble Lords accused Cromwell of acting like Richard III… asking him did he intend to make them disappear as did the twins in the tower 200 years ago, he then quickly moved them to more comfortable surroundings and gave them a reasonable amount of freedom. They were also permitted to visit your father on the eve of his execution.
‘After Elizabeth passed away, Cromwell suggested that the young Prince Henry should be placed on the throne. There is still a strong feeling in England that the country needs a monarch, but a constitutional monarch with limited power… a tiger with no teeth my Lord. But young Henry refused. “Not while my brothers Charles and James live,” he said.’
That brought a smile to Charles’s face. ‘God bless him, and what of my sister Mary… how is she now without her prince?’
‘Following the death of our Sovereign Prince, the fortunes of the House of Orange in the Dutch Republic have been eclipsed. The King of France is also causing us mischief in our territorial waters which is likely to take my country to war… a war we can scarcely afford as our resources are already seriously depleted. So I must warn you my Lord, that I doubt you will find any financial help from the Dutch republic… not until baby William sits on the throne… if that ever comes to pass.’
‘I will talk with my mother,’ said Charles, ‘she will want what is best for Mary, but I doubt
she has the resolve or the influence to help.’
‘Mary and her cortege are no longer at Noordeinde Palace. They are still at The Hague but have been moved to the Binnenhof Palace… the main administration centre of the Government and Senate.
‘Noordeinde Palace is not actually owned by the government, it was gifted to the widow of William of Orange in 1609 and is now being used as a working palace and main stables for all government offices in the area.’
I had seen the Binnenhof many times. It was a large building with a good view over Hofvijver Lake, but I thought it doubtful I would be allowed to wander about in there as I do at Noordeinde, so how would I ever get to see Anne?
‘Where are you taking us sir?’ I asked Captain Hendrickson. ‘France or Holland?’
‘I have a delivery for Cherbourg, and then I go to Brest to collect a cargo of wine. But first I will take you to Fécamp, a small town on the north coast of France… it’s about twenty miles from Le Havre. Have you decided which city to head for my Lord? Will it be The Hague or Paris?’
‘Paris is where most of my family are, so my first priority will be to see my mother.’
‘I thought that might be the case. May I suggest you walk to Le Havre and present yourself to the Mayor? Knowing him as I do, I have no doubt that he will take great pleasure in boasting about the part he played in your escape from England, I think he may even want to take you to Paris himself in the hope of claiming a reward.’
I had been wondering which city we were going to, and Paris was not what I wanted to hear, I wanted to be back in The Hague with my friends.
It was early in the morning when we saw the French coast appear out of the mist, the weather had been moderate for the crossing but on a smaller ship every wave seemed to be magnified.
Captain Hendrickson nosed the bow gently onto the sandy beach and we waded ashore.
‘Good luck my Lord,’ he called, ‘go west to Le Havre and God be with you.’
We then stood quietly and watched the Pride of Zeeland being pushed off the beach, we watched it turn and then slowly gather speed, moving westward towards the Atlantic Ocean.
We had known Hendrickson for just a brief moment in time, but they were arguably the most important moments of all, as they were the ones that had brought us to safety, and the completion of the final leg of our amazing escape from England.
We sat for a while replacing our boots and watching until the Pride of Zeeland disappeared like a ghost ship into the mist.
‘Well my friends we did it, we are safe in the homeland of my mother.’
We sat and watched the sunrise, and then began our walk to Le Havre which we thought would probably take up most of the day. But we had walked no more than a couple of miles when a friendly farmer offered us a lift on his cart. He did not recognise who we were, and we did not think it necessary to enlighten him.
Le Havre was a busy bustling town, but with a little help from locals we soon found the Mayor’s office.
***
‘You say you are the King of England, but we were told you had been killed in battle.’
‘But as you can see sir, I am alive and well.’
‘If I arrange transport to Paris, and you turn out not to be whom you claim to be, I will look foolish.’
‘With respect sir,’ said Thomas, ‘you will look an even bigger fool when the Dowager Queen Henrietta demands retribution for insulting her son.’
That seemed to scare him, and his attitude changed completely.
‘I was just making sure my Lord. I will take you to Paris myself tomorrow, but first I must find you somewhere more appropriate to stay overnight… and perhaps more suitable clothes.’
We were placed in luxurious accommodation… feasted, bathed, re-clothed and given a tour of Le Havre by our host.
***
By morning, we were completely relaxed and ready for the journey. It was roughly 120 miles to Paris but the road was straight… and with a military escort, we completed the journey in two days. Arriving at the Castle of Doves early evening on the second day.
The reunion of Charles with his family was an emotional affair, especially between his siblings. I was feeling a little uncomfortable, this was a personal family reunion and I didn’t think I should really be there at all.
James Stuart was now eighteen years old, and almost as tall as his brother Charles. His little sister Henrietta was a cute little thing of eight or nine with ringlets in her hair and wearing a pretty pink dress. She was the only one of the Stuart siblings that had not been taught by Thomas at some time or other. But she knew him.
As I expected, everyone was communicating in French. I was a lot more comfortable speaking French these days, but sometimes found it difficult to understand all that was said, especially if they were talking quickly. I wanted to listen and learn but didn’t want to get involved, so I sat in the background pretending to read a book which Thomas had told me to study on French History. However, it wasn’t long before I was coaxed into the party by James, Duke of York. He placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me to his mother the dowager queen. She smiled sweetly at me and said in English, ‘Do sit with us Master Toby.’
Later we were each taken to our own luxurious apartment, where I was surprised to find more new clothes, all surprisingly a perfect fit. There followed a banquet but not before I had bathed, been groomed and dressed in my new French fashionable clothes.
Thomas had once told me in confidence that he thought the Stuarts… despite their unquestionable love towards each other were a dysfunctional family who always ended up arguing about something. And so to prove his point in less than a week the tensions and arguments began, religion being the most divisive subject.
‘Paris is full of English refugees these days. We have more English noblemen and knights here in Paris than we have French,’ the dowager queen cried. ‘And they all come to me for help… hundreds of them and all with baggage.’
‘What do you mean by baggage?’
‘Wives, squires, retainers, hangers-on, scroungers.’
‘Who are they? What knights, what noblemen?’ asked Charles.
‘Ormonde is here in Paris, and also Clarendon who I believe to be the most contemptible man I have ever met.’
‘What’s wrong with Clarendon?’
‘He is discourteous, loathsome, rude and disrespectful.’
Charles took hold of his mother’s hand, his mood now softer and speaking quieter with compassion said. ‘You don’t have to give them an audience Mother, this is your home remember.’
‘I know, and we should not squabble, there are no words to describe how happy I am to see you here safe and well. There were rumours that you had perished at the Battle of Worcester.’
‘Well now you see I did not.’
For a moment while still holding his hand she hesitated… just looking into his eyes as if searching for the right words.
‘I think I should tell you Charles that I have funded the building of a convent here in Paris on Chaillot Hill. When it is completed I intend to move in there permanently. I hope you will visit me there whenever you are able?’
‘Of course I will, though I am a little surprised. What will you do with Castle of Doves?’
‘I’m not sure, perhaps you and James could use it.’
‘Or Henry perhaps. If we ever get him out of England,’ said Charles.
‘Oh yes. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could get your brother Henry released? I write every week to Cromwell begging for his freedom, but I think the man is completely void of compassion. What can he possibly gain by keeping a young boy in captivity all these years? Especially now that his poor sister Elizabeth is dead.’
‘I think Cromwell would like to put Henry on the throne of England as a puppet king, with himself pulling the strings. But I know he will never agree to that. But wouldn’t
it be nice if Mary could come here and join us for Christmas… with baby William?’
‘There is not a chance of that happening I am afraid my dear, not since her husband died. Now that she is the dowager princess she is obliged to share guardianship of her infant son with her in-laws Amalia and Frederick Henry. They have more power over the young prince than she has herself: Which became evident when the child was christened William, and not Charles as Mary and her husband had wanted, and don’t expect to be made welcome in The Hague, your sister’s sympathy for you and the help she has already given have created a rift between herself and her Dutch Royal family… they won’t turn you away, but they don’t really want you there.’
‘I have a house in Breda, they can’t stop me going there.’
‘I would not be so sure Charles, and I would advise you not to ask for any help… especially financial. Everything changed when William died, they won’t welcome you there as they did when he was alive. They have even made her move from Noordeinde to the Palace of Binnenhof… well not so much made her… it was the baby they took. She could have stayed at Noordeinde had she wished, but it would have had to be on her own and now to compound her misery they are accusing her of having an affair.’
‘What nonsense,’ said Charles, ‘I will write to her today.’
***
The last time I saw Anne, I had promised to write to her, but circumstances had made that impossible. I had been out of the country for over two years and didn’t get the chance. But there was no reason why I couldn’t write now. I could also send a letter to Louis, they could be delivered along with all the other royal correspondence.
I told Thomas that I intended to write letters to my friends in The Hague, and asked if I could send them via Princess Mary at Binnenhof Palace.
‘That should not be a problem Toby… is it Anne Huxley you want to write to?’
‘Yes but also my friend Louis Anderson at Noordeinde Palace.’
‘Would you like me to help?’
‘I think I would prefer to try on my own.’
I thought he might make fun of me but he was serious and just wanted to help.
Courtier in the Royal House of Stuart Page 20
