God and the King

by Marjorie Bowen

  CHAPTER XI

  THE KING'S HUMILIATION

  Everything had been in vain. Harley pressed his narrow triumph, and theKing, after a bitter struggle, consented to let the Dutch soldiers goand to retain the kingship, though he had drawn up a passionate farewellspeech to the ungrateful parliament, and shown it to Somers, Sunderland,and Marlborough, now the governor of the little Duke of Gloucester, theheir to the throne.

  It was my Lord Chamberlain, fast feeling himself falling before thewolves of faction, who urged the King to sacrifice even this to thosegreat designs to which he had given his life--it was Sunderland who putthe needs of Republic before him as he had after the Queen's death; andWilliam had again responded, even out of the depths of agony.

  But as the day approached for the departure of those Guards who had beenwith him since he had first marched out of The Hague against the French,whom he had led again and again in battle, who kept watch every nightwhile he slept, who were devoted to him--not as the King of England, butas William of Orange--as the time drew near for him to say farewell tohis friend de Ginckle and Monsieur de Schomberg, as he received dailythe petitions of the poor French who had fought for him loyally, and towhom he had promised his protection, his spirit gave way. He made thelast sacrifice of his pride, and he who had dealt haughtily with kingswrote a request in his own hand humbly asking the Parliament, as apersonal favour to himself, to allow him to retain the Dutch Guards.

  He sent the message down to the House by Lord Ranelagh, his Master ofthe Horse; and now, in his little cabinet at Kensington that had seen somany vigils of toil and sorrow, awaited the answer of the Commons.

  Before him lay the draft of the message he had sent--

  "His Majesty is pleased to let the House know that the necessarypreparations are made for transporting the Guards who came with him intoEngland, unless, out of consideration to him, the House is disposed tofind some way of continuing them longer in his service, which HisMajesty would take very kindly."

  To this humility had William of Orange stooped; beneath this paper wasanother, half hidden by it--the farewell speech he had drawn up. Hisown words flashed up at him in his own impetuous handwriting: "Feelingthat you have so little regard to my advice, that you take no manner ofcare of your own security, and that you expose yourselves to evidentruin by divesting yourselves of the only means of defence, it would notbe just or reasonable that I should be witness of your ruin."

  If he could but go down to the House and cast that at them--leaveEngland, and die peacefully in Holland!

  But Sunderland was right; he must endure even this for the sake of theRepublic--and surely, even such as Harley could not refuse his personalappeal.

  In his agitation and impatience he began pacing up and down the narrowroom. He was in wretched health; night after night he could not sleepfor grief and mortification; his headaches, his fainting-fits werefrequent and terrible; even this gentle walking to and fro soonexhausted him; he sank into the window-seat coughing and holding hisside, where his heart was beating with a dragging pain.

  Soon inaction became intolerable; he rose, nearly struck the bell tosummon M. Zulestein or M. Auverquerque, hesitated, did not, left thecabinet and his own apartments, and came out into the sunny quietgalleries of the palace.

  Deep in thought, he walked slowly, with bent head and his hands claspedbehind him under the full skirts of his brocade coat, when a suddensound of voices caused him to look up.

  He was in the empty antechamber leading to the King's gallery, the doorof which was half open; it was from behind it that the voices came; oneof them, very clear, serene, and beautiful in tone, was speaking as theKing paused; the words came very levelly and distinctly--

  "He actually asked it as a favour, you say? And of course they willrefuse. I should have thought that the little upstart would have knownby now that we ain't to be lorded by foreigners."

  The King stepped back with an instinctive shock, as if he had put hisfoot on a sword. He knew the voice to be that of the man whom he mostdespised and loathed--John Churchill, my Lord of Marlborough. Though hewas very well aware how he was traduced, lampooned, slandered, andabused behind his back, he had never heard himself referred to in thesecool terms of contempt; though he knew these things were said, he hadnever actually figured what it would be to overhear them.

  The blood rushed to his heart and lay there like a weight. He was of afamily that had given an Emperor to the West five hundred years ago, andJohn Churchill was scarce of gentle blood and had climbed on infamy.The King's right hand crossed over to his sword hilt. The beautiful,insolent voice began again. William instantly pushed open the door andentered the long gallery.

  At once silence fell. There were two men, Marlborough and Torrington,near the first window, and a small, weary, anxious-eyed andforlorn-looking child seated near them on a purple stool, making paperboats.

  Torrington went scarlet at sight of the King, but Marlborough swept agraceful bow, without the least change in his composure. William lookedat him steadily. He could have sent him to the block--not once, butmany times, yet he had spared him even the humiliation of a pardon inaffecting to ignore his treasons. It was curious to him to look at thisman--young, splendid in towering strength and opulent beauty, rich,prosperous, advancing from power to power, infamous, heartless,conscienceless, the man who would be ruling England very shortly now,and in whose hands would rest the completion or the ruin of the task towhich he, the King, had given his life.

  Torrington, fearful lest William had overheard, made some stumblingremark about their presence. The King seated himself on the window-seatand coughed.

  "Ah yes, I forgot that I was to have a visit from His Highness," hesaid. He looked languidly at the little Duke of Gloucester, Anne's solechild and heir of England. "Come here, sir," he added kindly, "and tellus of your studies."

  The child came obediently and stood by the King's knee, gazing at himwith very large eyes that shone as if they had a light behind them andwere themselves of crystal. He was about ten, remarkably thin and aspale as wax to his very lips, which were compressed with a painfulexpression of control; the blue veins showed across his high temples,which were shaded by fine, light auburn hair. He wore a very stiff andheavy suit of crimson and gold, a miniature sword, and the garter underhis knee. My lord his governor eyed him with the same kind of interestas a trader feels towards some object which, indifferent as it is tohimself, he yet hopes to get a good price for.

  William took him gently by the shoulders and drew him closer.

  "What are they teaching you, eh?" he asked.

  The child answered in a precise, toneless voice--

  "I am progressing very well, I thank Your Majesty. The dead languagesand mathematics, history, and the philosophy and errors of the ancients,the creation of the world and the feudal system; the Gothic Constitutionand the beneficiary law are among my next subjects."

  "Doth Your Highness remember all these grave matters?" asked the King,with a faint smile.

  "I remember very well, sir, when I have not a headache."

  "What gives you headache, Highness?"

  The little Duke answered gravely--

  "If it were not blasphemy, Your Majesty, I should say that it wasacquiring religious knowledge and listening to sermons; but Dr. Burnettsays that is a temptation of the devil to induce me to give up mystudies."

  "Dr. Burnet is making a scholar of you," answered William; "but you areto be a king and a soldier--do not forget that."

  A pale colour came into the grave little face.

  "Oh, I _want_ to be a soldier. I like the riding-school; but things youlike are of the devil, Dr. Burnet saith." He looked anxiously at theKing, as if hoping for a contradiction.

  "I think that is beyond Dr. Burnet to decide," replied William. "AndYour Highness must not let any one speak ill of soldiers--there isnothing better for a man to be. As God hath called you to be a king youwi
ll best serve Him by being what you feel a king should be--before all,a brave soldier."

  The child gave a short sigh.

  "I fear it is a very difficult thing to be a king," he said anxiously.

  "Perhaps the most difficult thing in the world," answered William. "ButYour Highness will reign in happier times."

  "Sometimes," continued the little Duke, frowning painfully, "when myhead aches and I cannot remember, and Dr. Burnet is angry with me, and Ifeel so tired, I wish I did not have to be a king--I wish----" Hepaused.

  "What?" asked William; he put his fine hand delicately over the softhair.

  "That I was in heaven," said the child simply.

  "Already!" cried the King. He went very white; he had seen a suddenlook of Mary in Mary's sister's child.

  The Duke nodded.

  "But it is wicked to want to go before God calls you," he said, quoting,obviously, his worthy tutor; "and being tired is a temptation of thedevil."

  "A strong one," answered the King shortly, and then was silent; itseemed terrible to him that this child should begin where he left off,in utter fatigue and despondency. He put his arm round the fragilelittle body.

  "Highness," he said, "I will give you a troop of Horse, and you shalldrill them yourself, and you shall have some hours off your studies forit, and I will come and give you lessons in soldiering."

  The little Duke's face flushed and changed in a marvellous fashion; hecaught the King's free hand and kissed it passionately.

  "But Dr. Burnet----" he faltered instantly.

  "God doth not only speak through Dr. Burnet," replied William. "Men andhorses are more than paper and ink for all that I could ever see; ay,and dogs and swords more than Greek and Latin. The devil is as likelyto be between the pages of a book as out in the open, with the animalswhom you might love more than men, so faithful they are. My lord!" hecalled to Marlborough, who had withdrawn with Torrington, and themagnificent Earl came instantly, with his winning air of deference."This child is too much closeted," said the King. "Look to it, my lord,that he is more on horseback."

  "Dr. Burnet findeth him an apt pupil, sir," responded Marlborough, withthe serenity and courtesy of indifference. "And Her Highness is verysatisfied."

  "But we are not," said William quietly. "It is our intention to giveHis Highness a troop of Horse." Then he was silent, for he recalled ina flash that his own beloved companions in arms might be taken from himwith no more regard than Marlborough would show in taking wooden toysfrom this child. Perhaps some such thought was in my lord's mind; hesmiled and let his fine eyes rest mildly on the King.

  The little Duke clung to the voluminous ruffles on the King's breast;his face was scarlet with excitement, and had for the moment lost itspremature look of wisdom and anxiety.

  "When you next go to Flanders may I come too?" he whispered.

  "Why, this is peace, Highness," smiled William.

  "But there will be war again, will there not, sir?"

  "God forbid," answered the King solemnly, "for we have utterly disarmedourselves."

  Seeing him so suddenly grave the Duke was silent, and the old look ofwonder and question came back into his eyes.

  William turned to him again.

  "But you will be a great soldier yet; remember me in your first battle,Highness."

  The child fondled the King's star, and William, with exquisitetenderness, lifted his long smooth curls of auburn hair, and passed themround his fingers.

  "Stewart locks," he murmured, and his voice trembled with the thought ofwhat had been, what might have been, and what could now never be; andanother ringlet of this hued hair that lay hidden in his bosom seemed toturn into a dagger that pierced into his heart.

  With a great effort he put the child from him and rose.

  "Bring His Highness to see us soon, my lord," he said to Marlborough;"and see he learns no lackey's tricks such as the vulgar one of speakingscornfully of your masters in your masters' houses, which faults, likethe vile treasons of mean men, are beneath us to punish; but we wouldnot have the child ape these manners."

  Marlborough's serene face slightly flushed; he could not, for all hisself-command, answer; he bowed very low under the King's straight gaze.

  "You will not forget the soldiers, sir?" cried the little Dukeanxiously.

  "On my honour, no," answered William. "Tell Her Highness I shall soonwait on her."

  He bent and kissed the smooth auburn head and then the upturned,grateful, earnest little face.

  My lord left with his charge, and Torrington was soon after dismissed;the King remained in the window-seat. After awhile came my LordsDevonshire, Somers, and Dorset, straight from Westminster, looking verygloomy about this business of the breaking of the troops, and after themLord Ranelagh, back with his answer from the Commons.

  The King came forward a step to meet him, and Ranelagh, felt the bloodleave his own face as he saw the look that sprang into William's haggardeyes.

  He stood silent, and the other lords glanced at each other furtively.

  The King put his hand to his heart.

  "Why"--he looked round the distressed faces--"why--they havenot--refused?"

  Ranelagh dropped to one knee.

  "Alas, sire," he began, "'twas from the first hopeless.... Harley hathsuch a hold----"

  William interrupted.

  "The Commons have refused our request?"

  Ranelagh dared not make words about it.

  "Yes, sire," he answered, in a broken voice.

  "Ah!" exclaimed William. He turned away from all of them, and walked upand down the long shining floor; after a moment or so he paused besideDorset, and said, in a very curious tone--

  "I must get beyond sea--to--to breathe a little."

  None of them ventured to speak, and he moved to the window again; thereon the seat was the little crumpled paper boat William of Gloucester hadbeen making out of a scrap of his lesson paper.

  The King saw it, and a sudden passion kindled in him; he cast his eyeswildly about him, and exclaimed, with the vehemence of agony--

  "Had _I_ a son, by God, these Guards should not leave me!"