by Ron Pearse
Chapter 3
In the throng of people surrounding the precincts of St James Palace there is good humour as people jostle to get near the front and a hubbub of neighbourliness pervades the gathering even when a single trumpet blast is heard and the general background chatter sinks to a murmur drowned by the succeeding fanfare as six royal trumpeters in bright red, resplendent uniforms blast out their message and when the last notes die away, the murmur is hushed and absolute silence reigns.
A single marching herald is seen to approach a dais upon which is a rostrum and, from a flagpole flutters a Union flag in the gentle breeze on this Sunday at four of the hour, on the afternoon of March 8th, in 1702. The herald declaims the age-old proclamation, and two people in particular exchange glances as they listen to him shout:
"Be it known unto all that our late sovereign and liege lord, King William, the third of that name, is deceased - God rest his soul - and that Anne of the royal house of Stuart has succeeded to the throne of our several kingdoms of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. God save the Queen! May the Queen live for ever!
For moments there is stillness then applause as people clap their hands, they shout, 'God save good Queen Anne' or simply hurrah, and more hurrahs resound among the multitude. The herald steps down and the crowd realise the little ceremony is over and start to move talking all the while to their neighbours, and confident in the resumption of a general hubbub of talk, Mistress Abigail Hill turns to her brother:
"By the looks of you Jack, it would seem the army had only little men to outfit afore you arrived."
Jack examines his sleeves and lifts one foot, then the other to confirm what he already knows but is too ashamed to admit. He even pulls his collar forward where there is a long gap, for a missing shirt, then says in self mocking tone:
"Ain't you sharp, sis! Lucky for me, nobody else has noticed, but in peacetime the army has little money to spend on new uniforms, excepting if one gets a promotion." He looks up to his hurrying sister and says without much hope:
"There's nought you can do about it, is there!"
Abigail eyes her brother in turn as they walk and shakes her head:
"Even had I the material," then added with a bitter grimace, "or the time. No, brother, sorry!"
People have thinned out as they walked along St James Street and another thought struck Jack Hill: "Are you still on speaking terms with your cousin, sis?"
She stopped in her track and faced her brother. He, on the other hand, looked down upon her tight bodice with its stiff stomacher which had the effect of forcing the breasts into the fashionable décolletage and he felt flattered as people passed them on either side, men even venturing a second glance. However her tone of voice forced his eyes onto her stern countenance. Her words were like cold water on his self-esteem:
"If that means what I think it to mean, forget it brother. I am not advancing your..." She hesitated and he filled in the missing word, 'promotion'. She walked on seemingly disgusted but Jack persisted saying in a complaining tone:
My pocket money is stopped so I could not save up for a new uniform if I wanted to." But his sister did not falter though now approaching the Pickadilly Road where the noise of carriages was very loud she was forced to shout to be heard:
"Cousin Sarah stopped your pocket money when she heard you spent it on drink. Besides you still have your pay or does that go on drink!"
Jack could have told her that he had not been paid for months. This was customary in the army of that time where officers, even lowly lieutenants were expected to provide for themselves, or rather, their families, but Jack has no family. Yet he knows telling his sister will get him nowhere. Civilians just do not understand army ways. Instead, as his sister beckons him to turn around and walk back the way they had come as she is due back on duty at the palace, he tries a different tack:
"Masham has just been promoted captain."
Once again she stopped and faced him. Now they were alone. This time she was conciliatory:
"You want me to talk to Cousin Sarah about your promotion."
"There's a war coming, sis. You wouldn't want your brother to be more at risk than your lover."
She bridled at this description of Masham who was visiting the palace at the time though he had made no declaration. She privately thought he was more interested in her beautiful younger sister, Alice. Yet it was good to see him. As she continued to mull over his remarks, Jack resumed his wheedling:
"There is not much time, sis, because if there is war, we shall end up over there, across the North Sea, then there will be no chance. If, your cousin could mention it to the captain-general! After all, after that highwayman incident, he promised to do anything for you."
She now spoke sharply and to the point: "After that incident, he bought you a commission as a lieutenant. Masham's father bought his son the rank of ensign, yet here he is now, a captain. In five years he has jumped above you, and he deserved to. Brother, you had a shiftless reputation on the farm. Nothing has changed."
Jack laughed out loud: "Good old sis! Not in love! Pull the other one." I get your drift but be fair, sister. Masham has been in the army five years against your Jack's three so he did have a head start."
His sister nodded conceding his point but shook her head too which meant, 'if it were the other way round, it would make little difference'. They had arrived back at the gardens which fronted the palace, the flowers and shrubbery looking decidedly the worse after being trampled on by the hundreds of people anxious to improve their vantage point for the hearing of the royal proclamation just an hour earlier. Abigail said:
"I've still a few minutes afore I need to go back. Let's sit awhile." Jack took off his peaked cap, nervously and then seeing his sister waiting hurriedly swept the leaves from the wooden seat which encircled an oak tree and thankfully she sat down. He replaced his cap and as he did so noticed a movement fifty yards away. An officer was pacing up and down and because he and his sister were partially camouflaged by the tree, he wondered if his sister had seen him, for it was Captain Samuel Masham himself.
Without a doubt he was one smart soldier. His redcoat was close fitting to the waist ending with the customary flare each slashed with a smart side-pocket which on the right side displayed a discrete kerchief. Purple breeches showed each time he made a stride; they ended just below the knee tied with red ribbon garters. Without pointing him out, Jack stuck out his own feet observing to his sister:
"Look at those cotton stockings. Even from here a man can tell he's wearing silk, and if I had my razor with me, I might shave in the mirror of his shoes. And look at that hat! I would not dare to wipe the seat with it." Jack's remark about the shoes was pure hyperbole as Masham was too far away, but he did notice his sister preen in anticipation of meeting him upon their return though she was in no hurry. He would wait. He always had. She said to her brother:
"Cousin Sarah has invited me to the theatre. Mayhaps I will broach the subject then." Abigail would notify cousin Sarah of Masham's elevation in the full knowledge of Sarah's dislike of Masham, but she said nothing to her brother about this thought. She went on to say:
"They say that her majesty will confer new honours upon Lady Churchill and then she may be in a generous mood. Cheer up brother! Things are never as bad as they seem."
Her brother did cheer up on hearing that and said to his sister:
"The barrack room gossip says that while Marlborough runs the war, his friends will run the country and his wife will run the queen. So keep in with cousin Sarah, sis. She may do you a lot of good, too."
Abigail sought to trump her brother's barrack talk with Palace rumours: "The gossip in the palace is that our lady bountiful will soon be chief lady of the bedchamber, Groom of the Stole, Mistress of the Wardrobe and Keeper of the Privy Purse, and her majesty might even make her Warden of Windsor Forest."
"Phew!" said Jack, "So a little promotion for cousin Jack will be a mere bagatelle." The indicating the waiting of
ficer, he added: "Tell you what, sis. Your Masham over there is sporting another emblem now his right side is turned towards us."
Abigail focuses on him and Jack thinks any minute Masham will spot them but his eyes are for the road. She answered: "Do you mean that bushy thing round his neck. What do you call it?"
"A gorget," responds her brother. See mine's black with gilt studs."
"Mister Masham has them is gleaming silver. They almost dazzle when he turns into the sun. Mind you, Jack, yours would shine too if you took care to polish them. Still it must have cost a pretty penny."
"Pretty penny," objected Jack, "pretty guinea or I'm a Dutchman. And that hat of his! I'm looking forward when he cleans the sidewalk making his bow." But his words were lost on his sister as she had stepped forward and waved to Masham who promptly came towards her.
Jack said: "I'm off to the Crown and Anchor, sis," and would have had not Abigail ostentatiously removed her purse through a slit just below her bodice. She removed a coin, telling him:
"Here's something brother. Until next time!" Disappointingly for her, Masham stopped in his tracks not wishing to meet Jack, who hugs her in gratitude and farewell, his mind racing ahead as to how many drinks, a shilling will buy. Then he is gone and she resumes her progress towards the smiling Masham and Jack is denied seeing him sweep his hat to the ground in greeting her.
Chapter 4
As the last waves of Ottoman expansion broke upon the walls of Vienna, towards the close of the sixteenth century, it was said that the Viennese, venturing from the city after the departure of the Turks and wandering among their abandoned tents and effects sought to discover the source of the aroma which arose every day the Turks were there encamped outside the walls of the city. The aroma was more successful in besieging the battlements than the Turkish soldiers as it stimulated appetite among the inhabitants, not good where hunger stalked the streets of the city.
Someone picked up a box upon which was written the word 'qahveh' from whence came that appetizing aroma, that whiff of the exotic east. The searchers found more clues including beans, milling implements and instructions in Arabic, and before very long the Viennese were also enjoying the selfsame beverage which was such a feature of the Turkish besiegers' daily life and as the memories of the siege faded, the Viennese welcomed their new found beverage as a blessing forgetting their hardships. In the ensuing years visitors to Vienna also liked to share the new 'qahveh' habit until eventually it found its way to London, whose inhabitants not gifted in the vernacular of other nations, began to open places of their own to serve a man the new beverage of 'coffee’.
Almost a century after the failed siege of Vienna, coffee houses were abundant in London boasting such names among their devotees as Jonathon's, Garaways, Manns or, perhaps reflecting its origins, Smyrna. Often a notice about the origins of coffee would be prominently displayed under the title of 'The Vertue of the COFFEE Drink'. Following its title would be a description of its origins, for example: 'The grain or berry called Coffee, groweth upon little Trees, only in the Deserts of Arabia.'
While watching for his coffee being prepared, a first-time traveller might well interest himself in this description as leaflets also were laid upon each table. 'It is a simple and innocent thing, composed into a drink by being dried into an Oven, and ground to Powder, and boiled up with Spring water...'
"Here you are, sir!" The serving-man interrupts the traveller who is happy to forgo further reading having before him a bowl containing a half-pint of the steaming liquid, coffee, and, it needs be stressed, the male, as the fair gender were excluded from entering the coffee shop being the haunt of bankers, merchants, lawyers, clergymen, parliamentarians, such as a trio of gentlemen who were gathered together of a mid-morning to indulge their taste for coffee while discussing the latest news in the world of trade, politics or the occurrence of momentous events. This particular trio of citizens had gathered one Saturday in 1702, on the 14th of March. They were John Churchill, earl of Marlborough, the lord Sidney Godolphin, first lord of the treasury and Charles Spencer, third earl of Sunderland.
It was Churchill who spoke first:
"Do you realise that seven days ago at this same table I was chafing at Caliban's inertia and of my own impotence, and now."
"And now you are Captain-General of the British Army, John," interrupted a smiling Godolphin.
"Not to mention your appointment of Master-General of the Ordinance," burst in a graver Charles Spencer who added: "any other man would be sprouting wings and horns."
Sidney Godolphin was vehement in his denial: "Not John Churchill, Charles," and stabbing at him with his clay pipe making the point forcibly, said emphatically: "There is no man who is more deserving and more modest."
"Careful Sidney, otherwise I shall be sprouting wings and you'll hear the trumpet blast from on high."
They all join together in laughter though that of Charles is more forced but it was Sidney who stops and says seriously: "When do you propose to take up your appointment? Where is the army at this time?"
Churchill was also serious: "Good question, Sidney! I shall have to see Cadogan, colonel Cadogan, my quarter-master who is much more knowledgeable on these matters than I."
"And the French," said Spencer, "what about them? Are they going to wait until England is ready?"
Churchill considered his companion's question, then ventured: "I do believe the Treaty of Ryswick gave Louis all he needed. It's checkmate. The Dutch won't move without us, and we have no pretext." This speech left him disconsolate and he was silent.
Spencer turned to Godolphin: "We've heard from the general, my lord. What says the diplomat?"
Godolphin was also reflective before he spoke: "Have you heard of the balance of power, Charles?"
Spencer shook his head but then said almost in contempt: "You don't mean that old howler from the schoolroom! What possible reference has it in our modern world?"
Churchill moved closer to listen to what his friend was about to say:
"Just this," answered Godolphin gravely, "when the Spanish invited Louis XIV's grandson, Philip, to occupy their vacant throne, the Austrians were alarmed, as were the Dutch and the Germans - and England should be too. The French army is a formidable force without Spain, but their combined strength will serious threaten the status quo."
Churchill said: "Admiral Russell beat a French fleet at La Hogue. Now just imagine a combined Franco-Spanish fleet. It will be unassailable."
"Is the position hopeless? Can anything be done?" said Spencer to nobody in particular.
Churchill positioned his chair even closer to the table motioning his friends to come closer and Spencer smiling nervously chaffed his friend:
"We are surrounded by French spies eh!" Then casting a look around the cafe whispered in jest: Where are the pitchers, John? I mean the ones large enough to hold a spy."
Godolphin rebuked Spencer in friendly manner: "You may joke, Charles, yet only recently was a message intercepted from a French agent. The French was not easy to decipher as the subject matter only made sense when I was shown the translated text. The message was addressed to St. Germain."
Seeing his friends' puzzlement Godolphin explained: "St Germain is where Louis has put a palace at the disposal of our late monarch, James."
Spencer whistled, commenting: "He has not given up hope then of returning at the head of a Catholic army, then? By the bye you still haven't told us about the message."
Godolphin said: "James is clutching at straws. The message said that the lord Godolphin, yours truly, was spending more time with the princess, Anne, as she then was, than with Queen Mary, joint monarch and wife to Caliban, I mean, King William. The puzzle is how the agent got hold of that information. I can only surmise there are spies within the palace itself."
While Godolphin was talking Churchill had arisen and removed his heavy coat rolling up his sleeves muttering about the heat in the room. Godolphin stopped his discourse as he spotted something:
"Those two scars on your arm, John; they look fearful."
Churchill looked at the scars which were raised from the skin and he said ruefully:
"Young Hubert Fenwick's handiwork, but he carries my wound upon his thigh. Those were the days."
"When would that have been John?" asked Godolphin and Churchill answered promptly: "January 6th, 1671. I feel like an old man compared to those heady days."
Spencer said: "It might have been worse, John. He called you out so you had the choice of weapon. He was a crack shot, d'you remember?"
Churchill rolled down his sleeve, leaned over the table and said in a whisper" "Talking of guns, Cadogan tells me about a new type of musket, a wheel-lock, he calls it, which gives a higher rate of fire. It'll give us the edge over the French, when it comes to a fight."
"If I did not know you better, I would say, here is a conspiracy."
All three raised their heads towards the speaker, a newcomer who stood near their table.
It was Churchill who spoke first: "Ah! Mr Harley welcome." He got up to greet the newcomer. "Join the conspiracy. Draw up a chair." At the same time he signalled one of the serving men who hovered around their private room.
But it was the proprietor who entered with an extra chair, inviting Harley to be seated taking an order for coffee for all four men and who then withdrew.
It took some time for Mr Harley to thank the proprietor for the chair and be introduced in turn by Churchill to Godolphin and Spencer, but finally all the essential courtesies were completed whereupon Harley addressed Churchill:
"I understand my lord, you will soon be taking p-p-packet to Holland."
"It is so far then your arrangements for leaving, my lord.” Asked Spencer: “What day will that be? Have you any idea?"
Godolphin said matter-of-factly: "When the Captain-General arrives at Ramsgate. That will be the day."
Churchill chided the speaker: "Not even the captain-general can command the wind or the waves, dear friend."
