The Coming of the King

by Joseph Hocking

  CHAPTER XXVII

  HOW I LEFT FLEET PRISON

  "Tell me all you know concerning her," he said. I told him quickly,feverishly, for I was eager to hear what he knew. I noticed, however,that he paid but little heed to our meeting near Folkestone, nor to myaccount of my journey to Bedford to set her at liberty. But when Idescribed our meeting with the king he was all attention.

  "The blackguard," he said presently, between his teeth.

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Charles Stuart," he said; "but pay no heed to me. After all, the kingis king."

  "But where is Constance now?" I asked. "I have been told that herfather was hanged at Tyburn. Where is she?"

  "What is she to you?" asked my father.

  "She is everything to me," I replied.

  "You fancy you are in love with her?"

  I did not reply, for my father spoke, I thought, scornfully.

  "I will admit that the maid is a brave maid. It is not often one hearsof such daring, such resolution," he said presently.

  "Ay," I replied, my heart all aglow. "She took her sister's guilt uponher own shoulders. For months she defied all pursuers, and when at lastshe stood before the king, she refused to do his bidding, refused tobetray her sister's hiding-place. But what happened to her afterwards?Tell me, father, for pity's sake."

  "You do not know? You have heard of nought that took place after thenight when you behaved like a fool before the king, and were senthither?"

  "I have heard nothing."

  "It was the best joke I have heard of for years," laughed my father."Verily I believe it was that which made Charles hang old John Leslie.He hath let more guilty men go free; besides, Sir John was a harmlessold fool, with nought against him save that he was over-religious."

  "But tell me, father; tell me," I pleaded.

  "Well," said my father, "no sooner did she leave his Majesty's presencethan it seems that she began to look around for a means of escape. Itseems also that during the time she appeared before the king,half-a-dozen young gallants lost their hearts over her, and she being aquick-Pwitted maid singled out the biggest fool of the whole batch. Isuppose that during her midnight audience with the king these youngfools waited around the corridors in the hope of having speech with her.How she did it I don't know; but she managed to gain audience with theyoung fool I have mentioned, and in five minutes he became wax in herhands. She persuaded him to bring her the gay and full outfit of a youngCourt gallant, and offered to run away with him."

  "And then?" I cried, for my father stopped in the middle of his recitalto laugh, as though he were telling a good joke.

  "Then the next night, while the king was at supper, she managed toescape with this silly loon. It seems that they went away under thetrees, both of them dressed like gay cavaliers, until they came to aspot where two horses where waiting for them. Then they both mounted,the maid I am told having the firmer seat of the two, and galloped awaytogether. By this time night had come on, and then before thisaddlepate, Charles Fitzroy by name, knew where he was, he found himselfalone. The girl had galloped away with his horse, and his fine attire,leaving him to get out of his scrape as best he could."

  Again my father stopped to laugh.

  "But how do you know the truth of this?" I cried.

  "Oh, it was easy to know," replied my father. "Young Master Fitzroy rodearound through the night, calling vainly for his lady-love untildaylight, and presently happened upon another love-sick swain who hadalso been away love-making. Master Fitzroy was so overcome with griefthat he actually told the other all that had happened."

  "But was he not punished by the king?"

  "As to that," replied my father, "he knew enough not to return to bravethe king's anger. He ran away to Holland, and the king having been muchbeholden to Fitzroy's father hath not sent after him. Nevertheless,Charles was very angry. He was much struck with the maid's beauty;moreover, from what I can hear, his discomfiture hath been much laughedat by the wits of the town. Oh, the maid was clever, there can be nodoubt of that, and verily she hath made me believe, almost in spite ofmyself, in the virtue of women."

  "But you said you know where she is now," I said, for although my heartrejoiced at what I had heard, I longed much to know how she fared afterthese long weary months of my imprisonment.

  "Did I say that?" said my father. "Then I said too much; but methinks Imay be able to tell you that which may set you thinking."

  "What?" I cried feverishly.

  "As you know," went on my father, "the bishops and clergy of theEpiscopal Church have prevailed on the king to pass stringent lawsconcerning these prating Puritans. In truth these men of God have sohedged them around, that a Nonconformist is nearly as badly placed aswere Protestants during the reign of Mary. They are not allowed topreach, or to pray, except according to the bishops' will. In fact theyare hardly able to live at all, for they be hunted like foxes and ratsfrom one place to another. It is true they ought to subscribe to thePrayer-book, and take all the oaths which the king prescribes, but yousee they will not. Thus they are fined and imprisoned by the hundreds."

  "I have heard this," I cried; "but what hath it to do with thewhereabouts of Constance?"

  "I am coming to that," replied my father; "and the less you interrupt methe sooner you will know all I have to tell. As a consequence of theselaws, there be hundreds of families without homes or friends, whom Godmust indeed pity. They have no shelter but the hedgeside; no food butwhat is free to the rabbits and the fowls of the air. Many of them wereparish ministers, and since the Act of Uniformity and the other Actstheir condition hath been piteous. Of course they be fools, for whycannot they swallow their scruples and be done with it? But they willnot. The clergy refuse to be episcopally ordained, and they willcontinue to preach, and hence the trouble. Well, it seems that a MasterLeslie, who was own cousin to Sir John, was one of these Presbyterian orIndependent ministers who refused to be ordained by a bishop, and thushe was cast into the lanes, with a wife and six children. For a longtime I suppose he had no shelter but the hedges, for the farmers wereafraid even to give them a hiding place in their barns. At length,however, a farmer was brave enough to give them shelter in an outhouse;at any rate, he did not inform the vicar or the magistrates about them.Some say he even brought them food, but concerning that I have nocertain knowledge. About a fortnight ago, however, the magistrates heardof them, and sent the constables to take them, on what pretext I don'tknow. It seems that just as the constables were entering the barn theysaw a woman come out, and one of them swears it was Mistress ConstanceLeslie."

  "Where was this?" I cried.

  "At a parish about three miles from Bedford; I have forgotten the name."

  "And how long ago?"

  "I have just told you; it was about a fortnight ago."

  "And was the constable sure it was she?"

  "He can take his oath to it, he saith; he also rushed after her to takeher, but she escaped in the darkness. Some say she tripped the constableup, and blew out the candle in his lantern. However, it may be all amistake, especially as since that time the whole district hath beensearched, and nought hath come of it. Especially hath search been madeat Goodlands, the place which belonged to Sir John Leslie, but not asight of her hath there been."

  "And what hath become of Goodlands?" I asked, with a fast beating heart.

  "Oh, it still appertaineth to the Leslies. It seems that the king isstill determined to capture the pretty Constance, and so he hath donenought by Sir John's estates except to appropriate the rents. Hebelieves that sooner or later the daughters will claim their property,and by this means he will be able to lay hands upon them. I am told thatat present one of Leslie's farmers lives in the house."

  I did not speak concerning this, nevertheless my heart beat high withhope. I had heard Constance say that when she was once in her father'shouse at Goodlands she had no fear of searchers. Was it not possiblethat she had escaped thither, and was still in hiding? I knew that herheart would go out in
sympathy with the distressed clergyman who hadbeen driven from his parish, and his vicarage, and that she would seekto bring him food and comfort. What more likely then than my father'sstory was true. But as I have said I was silent, for I knew that hewould not be likely to think of her as I did.

  "That is all there is to tell," he said presently, and I saw that hiseyes rested searchingly on me, as though he would read the thoughts inmy mind.

  "What are you going to do?" he continued at length.

  "I am going to find her," I said.

  "And then?"

  "I do not know," I replied, for although I was sure I had seen the lightof love in her eyes that night when we stood in the presence of theking, I was afraid she had forgotten all about me during the long wearymonths I had been lying in prison.

  "But what would you?" he asked.

  "I would wed her," I replied.

  "What, wed the daughter of a regicide!" he cried. "Wed a woman with aprice set upon her head! Destroy all your chances in life, and that forno benefit to you save to satisfy a mad fancy!"

  "What would you do if you were in my place, father?" I asked. "IfConstance were my mother and you were my age, what would you do?"

  For a moment my father's lips quivered, and then I knew that although hehad become more cynical than of old, his heart was still warm towardsthe memory of my mother, and towards me his only son.

  "But can you do aught? I tell you it is only through the influence ofthe king's brother that I have obtained your liberty. If his Majestydiscovers that you have in aught tried to help this woman he will haveno mercy. Doubtless he is easygoing as far as the State is concerned;for that matter his best friends see that he is ruining the country overwhich he pretends to reign. But he is bitter in his private hatreds. Seehow he hath treated those who had aught to do with his father's death.Not one shred of mercy hath he shewn. All are hanged, or imprisoned,save those who have escaped across the seas. You, Roland, have thwartedhis will, and he believes that it is because this maid cares for you,that she fled from Windsor that night. I tell you he will have no mercy,and even although I have found the weak side of Duke James of York, Icould do nothing for you."

  "Still I must find her if I can."

  "But you can do no good. If she hath a hiding-place you will onlyendanger her by trying to find her."

  "No; I will not endanger her," I cried. "Besides, I know not what shemay be suffering; I do not know what difficulty she hath in evadingthose who would place her under the king's power."

  "You know her hiding-place?" said my father.

  "No, I do not know it," I replied; "I can only guess."

  "I tell you Goodlands is watched closely, and the whole countryside iswatched. If she is anywhere in the district then----," and my fathershrugged his shoulders, French fashion, as he ceased to speak.

  "Then she needs me all the more."

  "Oh, you fool, you fool!" said my father, and yet I thought his voicewas kind and caressing.

  "Look here," he went on presently. "I have influence with Duke James ofYork, who I verily believe will soon be king. Charles will not live tobe an old man. He cannot. No man can live long who spends his days andnights as he doth. And let me tell you this: Duke James doth not thinkunkindly of you, if Charles doth. Even now I can put you into the way ofadvancement, for Duke James hath much power. If you give up all thoughtsof this woman I can even yet promise you a career. The duke thought youa dashing youth with a ready wit and a strong arm. But if you do whatis in your heart to do, I can see nothing for you but the prison or thegallows."

  "Neither," I cried boldly, for what he had said had made me brave andhopeful.

  "What then?"

  "I know not. But I will go and help the woman I love. If she will wedme, no man in England will be so happy as I."

  "How will you live?" said my father with a sneer.

  "I will escape to New England, even as some of our forefathers did," Icried. "Some of her forefathers are also there."

  "And if you did this what would you do?"

  "I am not a fool, even although you say I am," I cried. "I am young, andat her side I shall be strong. Men no better than I have had a career inother lands, and I will be in no whit behind them."

  My father smiled sadly. "Well, come with me to the old home, and then wecan think of these things together," he said presently.

  "If mother were where Constance is, what would you do?" I asked again.

  At this my father became silent for a time, then he burst out.

  "Have you any of these Puritan beliefs?"

  "Which would you rather I became?" I said. "A Puritan, or like unto theswashbucklers which I am told throng the king's court?"

  "But hath this woman converted you?"

  "I do not know," I replied; "but I would be worthy of her. Whom wouldyou have me wed, father, a woman such as she is, or one of the womenwhom Charles loves to have around him."

  "The women of Charles' Court!" he cried, and he seemed to be speaking tohimself rather than to me. "Great God! I have thought since I returned,that there doth not remain a pure woman in London. The example of theking hath corrupted the country. Morality is laughed at, while thepreachers wink at things which five years ago were regarded with holyhorror. And yet no man can find favour in these days unless he licksCharles' boots and praises his way of living. I did not realize itwhile I was in France, but since I have returned I have seen what Ithought might come. England is turned into a pigsty, and those who wouldlive for faith and purity are treated like vermin!"

  "Then what would you have me do father?" I asked.

  He was silent for a time, then he said quietly--

  "You will be able to walk out of here to-morrow a free man. I have seento that. It is not far from here to the _Virgin Queen_, where our oldservant Caleb Bullen lives. Caleb will expect you, and you may find outwhen you get there what I would have you do."

  He kissed me affectionately as he bade me good-bye; indeed, it seemed tome as though he were taking a long farewell. But I knew not what was inhis mind, neither did I ask questions, for my father was never a man whomade known his secret thoughts with readiness. And yet the feeling whichhad possessed me at first concerning him had passed away. He had grownmore and more like he was during my boyish days as our interviewproceeded. Nay, more; I thought he had sympathized with me as I spoke tohim, even although he was angry that I had not behaved with more worldlywisdom.

  When I left the prison on the following morning I heard theNonconformists comforting each other by singing hymns, and by prayers,so that while I could not understand many of their scruples my heartwent out to them in sympathy. I noticed, too, that my gaolers paid memuch respect as I left, and I judged that my father had somehow madethem think of me as different from those whom they usually guarded.

  As I walked up Ludgate Hill towards St. Paul's Cross no one paid heed tome, and yet as I caught sight of myself in one of the windows as Ipassed by, I scarce knew myself, for I had grown a beard several incheslong, while my face was as pale as the face of a dead man.

  When I entered the _Virgin Queen_ old Caleb Bullen started back like aman frightened.

  "Great Lord! Is that you, Master Roland?" he cried. "If it had beennight I should e'en have taken you for a ghost."

  "If you will give me some breakfast, I will prove to you that I am noghost, Caleb," I replied.

  "Ay, but that hath been ready this last half-hour, Master Roland," hereplied. "Your father gave orders concerning it last night. In truth, soparticular was he about it, that I cut a new ham, the very best I have,and six eggs have I had fried for you. But come this way, MasterRoland," and he led me into the room I had occupied long months before.

  "My father," I said, to Caleb, "is he here?"

  "Not one word will I speak about him till you have had something toeat," said Caleb. "Faith, Master Roland, but it makes my flesh creep tosee you. No, no, I will speak no word, not one word until you have eatenhalf a pound of ham. It was a good pig, Master Rola
nd, twenty scoreweight, and fed on good barley."

  In truth, although I was anxious to know what my father had said to him,the smell of the ham was so appetising that I fell to eating withoutfurther parley, while Caleb stood by watching me as though he wasderiving great comfort by doing so.

  "It does me good to see you, Master Roland," he said presently. "Why,you are looking better already. Another rasher now, Master Roland, justone more rasher."

  "Not another particle, Caleb," I said with a laugh, for a hearty mealhad made me feel like a new man. "Now tell me, is my father here?"

  "No, Master Roland."

  "Where is he? Do you know?"

  "No, I do not, but he left this for you," and he brought a bag andplaced it on the table before me.

  I heard the jingle of money, and on opening the bag I found a largenumber of gold pieces. As I judged, there must have been a hundredpounds. But it was not of this that I paid so much heed. Besides thegold pieces I found a letter, and this was what my father had written:

  "God bless you, my son--my only son. I do not think you havedisappointed me much, though for a time I was sorely angered. After all,a youth cannot help loving at some time, and if the woman he loves begood and true, his love should not be laughed at. In my young days wesaid that the more danger there was in the rescue, the more was therescue worthy of a brave man. I grieve much that we cannot spend somedays together in the old home, but that I must leave to you. Black Benis in the stable of the _Virgin Queen_. I knew you would like to havehim, so I obtained him, although with difficulty. In this bag are ahundred pounds; you may need them. Rest a day and a night before youbegin to do what is in your heart. You will need all your strength. Ican do nought for you, but your mother would, I know, have you do whatis in your heart. So would I. If you succeed, and have need to come tothe old home, see that you take many precautions. But whatever mayhappen, be sure that your father loves you."

  My eyes were full of tears when I finished reading this, and I knew thenthat although he often spoke words which seemed hard and bitter, hisheart was full of love towards me.

  I rushed out to the stable, where Black Ben welcomed me with a whinney.In truth, I thought he trembled with joy as he saw me.

  "I have more work for you, my beauty!" I said, whereupon he rubbed hisnose against my arm.

  "Great God, help me!" I prayed, as I thought of what lay before me; andinto my heart came a great resolution to do what was in my heart to do.I longed much to start on my journey that day, but I was too weak.Nevertheless, at an early hour next morning, I rode through Barnet on myway to Bedford.