by Graham Brack
This was a fine bluff since no such meeting was planned, but it produced a marked effect on the sergeant, who cogitated for the briefest moment before ordering the constables to take the accuser in hand and drag him to the common jail where he would be severely questioned after so foully abusing the King’s guests. I did not know what “severely questioned” meant, but it was clear that the stallkeeper did, because he began to whimper piteously and shouted that anyone could make an honest mistake.
‘Aye,’ agreed the sergeant, ‘but this one may cost you your tongue if you’re found to have borne false witness.’
As the man was led away, the bystanders respectfully opened a path for us as if urging us to leave their street as quickly as possible, so Wevers led us through and we marched briskly on.
After a while, I was able to catch up with him to commend him on his masterful display and see if I could find out any more about him by subtle questioning, but I may as well have tried to question an oyster. ‘It is very lucky for mijnheer Preuveneers that you were vigilant,’ I said.
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Wevers smiled, and opened his hand to reveal a small silver chain.
‘You stole it!’ I gasped.
‘Certainly not!’ Wevers replied. ‘But neither did Preuveneers. I saw that rough fellow in the russet-coloured jerkin bump into the old man. At first I thought he was a pickpocket or cutpurse, but then I saw something bright dropped into Preuveneers’ pouch. I made it my business to remove it just as quickly.’
‘So they conspired to accuse him, believing that the chain would be found in his possession? But why?’
‘Presumably because we are Dutch. But it would not surprise me if this was some ruse to discredit our mission, so be on your guard, Master Mercurius. They failed today, but they may not next time.’
‘I cannot help but feel some pity for the silversmith. It sounds as if his punishment may be severe.’
‘I doubt they’ll carry it out. But it will be instructive to see if anyone intervenes on his behalf. If they do, we’ll know who is behind this.’
King Charles was furious. His face became so red I thought he might have an apoplectic seizure and drop down dead. ‘Accused Preuveneers of theft!’
‘I am afraid so, Your Majesty,’ Van Langenburg said. ‘I was not there personally, but I have been informed of the event.’
Charles rose from his seat and surveyed us all. ‘Who saw this?’
Wevers stepped forward and calmly described what had occurred, omitting any mention of his own role in the matter.
Charles became incandescent with rage. ‘Mr Preuveneers has been known to us since our youth. We have no doubt as to his honesty, and it pricks our honour that any of our subjects should defile his reputation in this way. Where is the silversmith now?’
‘In the charge of the sergeant of the watch,’ Wevers answered.
Charles turned to Arlington. ‘Have him committed to the pillory today and tomorrow. That should teach him some manners.’
Arlington bowed his head in acknowledgement of the instruction. If anyone present was going to speak up for the silversmith to save him from his fate, this was their moment; but there was no plea for him.
‘Preuveneers!’ Charles called, and the old man came forward and knelt before the King. ‘Come, come!’ cried Charles, and lifted Preuveneers to his feet. ‘I am heartily sorry that you have been used in such a fashion.’
It did not escape my notice that Charles was not speaking of himself as “We” any longer, but addressing Preuveneers in a more intimate and friendly tone. After the shock of the day such affection was too much for our companion, and he began to cry, apologising between sobs for his unmanliness.
‘We have known each other these many years,’ Charles answered gently, ‘and you could never appear unmanly to me. But, by God, I will find what the villain was about! Arlington, bid his keepers do whatever they must to discover this wickedness.’
I have no taste for earthly punishments. It has long seemed to me that since we will all be judged in time by an infallible and all-knowing judge whose sentences are more awful than anything we can issue here, it makes little difference how severe we are to men on earth, and I will allow that I am perhaps a little squeamish about the shedding of blood (particularly my own). Thus, I found myself shivering at the thought of what “whatever they must” may portend. If Wevers was right, the stallkeeper was incited to this deed by others. He would pay the price, and they would escape, unless he chose to disclose their names; and who can doubt that if the tortures were severe enough, he would come up with some names, true or not? I know I would.
I was spared the extended and alcoholic dinner that afternoon because I received an invitation to meet the Princess herself. I assumed she would be somewhere in the same palace, but I was disabused of this idea as I was conducted to a carriage for the short journey to St James’ Palace.
In the light of the events earlier, I was concerned to find that I was the only occupant of the carriage and might have feared a kidnapping were it not that the door bore the arms of someone ecclesiastical. Of course, I was a young man then, and the idea that clergymen might be no more trustworthy than any other man had not yet gripped me; so I took my seat, but the carriage did not move.
After a couple of minutes I was beginning to wonder whether I should jump out while I still might, when someone rushed to open the door again and the Bishop of London clambered inside.
‘I am sorry I was not here to greet you, Master,’ he said smoothly. ‘I thought I had time to transact a little business while my servant searched you out, but I was detained by one whose invitation I could hardly refuse.’
I must have looked puzzled, because he felt the need to expand his comments.
‘I mean the King, sir. His Majesty noticed my arrival.’ Compton smoothed his robe and picked at an imaginary piece of fluff on his lap. ‘I understand you were subjected to some unpleasantness earlier. I am sorry for it.’
‘You are very kind, but you need not apologise for something in which the fault was not yours.’
‘Nevertheless, we did not protect you from it.’ He glanced out of the window and lowered his voice. ‘I fear those who oppose this match are more resourceful than we had supposed, sir.’
‘Do you think another attempt will be made?’
‘I am sure of it. The names of the French party are known to us all, but we cannot be certain who is the main actor, the driving force.’
‘I am told Lord Arlington has no love of us,’ I suggested.
Compton smiled a thin, humourless smile. ‘Lord Arlington is in favour of the match, but opposed to anyone but Lord Arlington arranging it.’
‘If not him, then who?’
Compton pondered a moment. ‘It might be the Duke of Buckingham.’
‘I have not seen him.’
‘He is currently not in favour at court. The man is appallingly immoral, openly keeping a mistress in his house while his wife was there, fighting duels and treating with the French. I do not doubt that he might bribe an official or two to be kept apprised of what is going on. And he is no lover of your country, though he once made suit to the Princess of Orange.’
‘The Stadhouder’s mother?’
‘Yes. In his defence, she was a widow at the time. And still in mourning, I believe, though that would hardly hold Buckingham back.’
I was shocked. I ought not to have been, but these unsavoury revelations of life in high circles were a complete surprise to me. I had always thought that our betters were models of decorum. Well, if not models, then at least quite discreet about their misbehaviour.
‘Then there is Sir Jasper Hollyoake.’
‘Have I met him?’ I stammered, fearful of showing my ignorance.
‘Sir Jasper would take care that you should not see him,’ Compton explained. ‘He is the eyes of the French ambassador, lurking in the shadows and observing all that passes so that it may be relayed to his sponsors. This seem
s to me to be too bold an act for Hollyoake, but perhaps those with whom he associates have some part in it.’
I was beginning to feel that threats existed on every side, only to find that Compton had not finished yet.
‘Sir Toby Roade is another possibility. He has no special love for the French, but he has a hatred for the Dutch ever since he lost two sons in the war against your nation. I did not see him about the court today.’
The carriage drew up at the front of St James’ Palace, and we alighted and smoothed ourselves down. Compton led the way, and in very little time we found ourselves conducted to a large, bright room where a young woman was standing looking out of the window. As we entered, she turned and walked towards us.
I had heard that Princess Mary was tall, but it was still a surprise to see a woman taller than I was. I realised after a few moments that she was wearing shoes with heels, but even so, she was a tall girl — and not yet fully grown!
Like many a tall woman, she was not graceful, her stride being too long, and when she presented her hand for kissing I thought briefly that she meant to slap us.
‘Will you sit, gentlemen?’ she said.
We took our places, I slightly to the fore so that Compton could discreetly murmur a translation for any English word I did not comprehend. The Princess rang a little bell and servants appeared with a pot and some small dishes in which we were served tea, this being the fashionable drink of ladies at the English court.
‘Have you drunk tea before, Master?’ she asked.
‘No, ma’am. I have seen it once in Amsterdam.’
‘It is a great favourite of my aunt Catherine’s.’
It took me a little while to realise that she was speaking of the Queen, Catherine of Braganza. I learned later that the Queen favoured tea over any other drink despite — or perhaps because of — its great expense.
I sipped at the warm liquid. It was not unpleasant, though I cannot say that I would impoverish myself to buy a pound of the stuff. It is made of dried leaves brought from China which, I suppose, explains its high price.
I am not made for parlour talk and hoped that we would soon move to more comfortable matters. Fortunately, the Princess was admirably direct.
‘My father tells me that you are to examine me upon my faith, sir, and I hope you will not find me lacking in zeal for the Protestant religion.’
The reader will understand that I felt ambivalent about that point, since I was a Roman Catholic myself, albeit clothed as a Reformed minister.
I asked her some questions as if she were a child at a Catechism class, and she answered well. It was obvious that she was a young woman of some accomplishments. She was not, perhaps, pretty, though she might be accounted vivacious. Her brow was high and broad, and she had dark eyes that displayed intelligence in their quick movements.
‘May I ask you, ma’am, what you think are the duties of a good wife?’ I asked.
It was immediately clear that she had not been schooled to answer this question, and she looked pleadingly at Compton, who merely smiled encouragingly back at her.
‘Why, sir, to be her husband’s dutiful support in all things; to keep his house, to bear his children, to tend to any of his wants.’
‘And could you do this for Prince William, my master?’
She grasped her dress tightly in one hand as if willing herself not to say something. ‘My noble cousin is a fine and serious young man, I believe. I am told I could not have a better husband.’
‘But what do you think of marrying him?’ I pressed.
There was an awkward silence.
‘I am my father’s dutiful daughter in all things,’ she replied at length.
‘Are you saying you are marrying him only because your father desires it?’
‘What other reason does a daughter need, sir?’
I left the matter there and asked how she felt about living in my homeland.
‘My place is at my husband’s side, wherever he may be.’
‘I must tell you plainly, ma’am, that the Dutch court is not as gay as this one.’
Her forced smile faded. Holding a small napkin to her mouth, she rose abruptly to her feet. ‘Will you excuse me a moment, gentlemen?’ she asked, and left the room as quickly as she could without breaking into a sprint. The door closed behind her, and in the quiet we could hear sobbing.
‘Don’t take it as a bad sign,’ Compton told me cheerfully. ‘When the Duke of York told her she might be marrying Prince William, she cried for two days without ceasing. She doesn’t do that now. Well, not as much, anyway.’
‘But why is the Duke agreeing to it if he knows it will make his daughter unhappy?’
‘If the Duke were a private gentleman, he would not entertain it. He is very fond of his girls. When they were small, he was often to be found on his knees playing with them. But first, he is the King’s obedient subject. He believes that the King is anointed by God and that therefore his every command is to be obeyed. But the Duke is not popular in this land. Too many people are suspicious of his Catholicism and think he means to overturn our Reformation. Marrying his daughter to a staunch Protestant such as your master would demonstrate that whatever his private beliefs, he does not intend the conversion of the whole country with all the turmoil and distemper that would bring. I think he has been brought to believe that his peaceful assumption of the throne when his brother dies depends on such a match.’
That might be true, but it did not seem to me to be a good reason for marrying off your daughter.
CHAPTER SIX
I will admit that I was troubled when we returned from our meeting with the Princess. Not being the father of daughters, and having no sisters, I had never given a moment’s thought to their disposition in marriage, but it seemed hard to me that effectively they had little or no say in their futures. I suppose it had always been the way, and that a loving father would do his best to secure his daughter’s future by marrying her well, but I had heard too many stories of women being maltreated, ignored or deprived of the comforts of life by their husbands to feel completely at ease with the idea.
When we arrived at Whitehall, I excused myself and decided to go for a walk to gather my thoughts. It was not my place, I decided, to act on behalf of the Princess, whatever natural sympathy might be excited in my breast for a young girl so distressed; and since I had the advantage of some acquaintance with the Stadhouder, I was comfortable that he was not the sort of brute who would neglect or harm a wife. However, could I in all conscience advise him to marry a girl who by all appearances was only marrying him because her father told her to do so?
There was also the matter of her youth. William was in his mid-twenties, but she was only fifteen or so. Admittedly that was the age at which William’s father had married his mother, who was only nine then herself, so I doubted William would be much moved by that consideration.
I sat in the cool of a large church and thought hard for a few minutes before deciding that there was nothing here I could manage just by thinking about it, and so I took up my hat and began walking back towards our lodgings.
About two-thirds of the way there I encountered some of my countrymen heading in the opposite direction.
‘Will you join us, Mercurius?’ asked Bouwman.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To explore some more of the city. The King is entertaining another party tonight, so it’s convenient if we are not around.’
‘What other party?’
‘You don’t want to know, Mercurius. Don’t worry, it’s not another embassy. In fact, I think the one thing I can guarantee they won’t talk about is marriage.’
I must have looked blank, because Bouwman felt the need to expand.
‘He’s meeting one of his mistresses.’
‘Oh.’
‘But His Majesty has very generously sent Mr Pepys with us with a purse of gold for our entertainment.’ Bouwman indicated a very genial-looking Mr Pepys, who bowed flamboyantly in
greeting. ‘I believe,’ Bouwman continued in a whisper, ‘that Mr Pepys is very well acquainted with places of diversion, though perhaps not all suitable for a man of the cloth.’
‘That I can well credit,’ I responded.
The intelligence that Mr Pepys was equipped with the King’s purse must have spread far and wide, because in short order we found our company enlarged by several Englishmen. Mr Dawkins worked for Pepys at Trinity House as a surveyor of lights in the Port of London, if I understood correctly, and was a lively fellow. Being young and unmarried, he knew several places of the lower sort, and some of our party chose to follow him. Mr Laurel was a tutor at a school of which Mr Pepys was a governor, and was by all appearances a devotee of the table, which seemed much more to my taste, so I adhered to his troop and together we trailed through some narrow alleys until we reached a tavern at which, according to Mr Laurel, the roast beef and mutton chops were unsurpassed. Securing a large table, we sat down and awaited our meal.
Mr Laurel had arranged that we would meet the others by nine o’clock at some particular place, and clearly intended to do an evening’s dining every hour until then. Pies, platters of roast meat and bowls of turnips and carrots appeared and were emptied with regularity. I was pressed to eat and drink far more than I wanted, though I must confess that the beef was very good, and I allowed myself to be tempted to a second plate thereof. However, I needed to keep a clear head and therefore drank sparingly.
There were a couple of other Englishmen attached to us. One, by name of Buckie, turned out to be a Scot who had been part of the King’s party when he was in Scotland and later in exile. Buckie talked amiably enough, though his accent was such that I had not the slightest clue what he was saying, and contented myself with agreeing with his observations whenever he paused and looked in my direction.
The other was a gallant introduced to us as Captain Hallow. If Hallow was a military man, his post must have been honorary, since he was far too concerned with his appearance ever to have faced a field of battle. He regularly checked his neckcloth in the polished platters as they were emptied, and bobbed off his seat to ensure that the loose end of his sash was not folded beneath him. Hallow had started the evening with Dawkins’ party but found them, he said, rather rowdy and ungentlemanly.
