by Angus Donald
‘That poor fellow hanged himself – self disgust, I should imagine, at the treacherous creature he had become,’ said Blood. ‘Yet, Your Majesty, to ease your fears, I will give you my word as an Irish gentleman that I shall not seek to harm you, if you wish to send away your guards. Indeed, I may tell you now, since we are discoursing on the subject, that I did once seek to harm you, to my shame. I chanced upon your person while you were bathing in the Thames at Vauxhall one morning last summer. It was a beautiful day: a wide blue sky and a cheery rising sun. I had a pistol about me, as was habitual for me in those dark days, and I even went so far as to pull it from my belt and point it at your back. But in the end, sire, I could not fire. I was quite overwhelmed with a sense of awe at the majesty of your naked person, and I said to myself, I cannot remove this our Blessed Sovereign, anointed by God, from this world, only the Almighty Father has the right to do that. So I put up my pistol, gave thanks to God, and stole quietly away.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Sir John Grenville. ‘You see, sire, he freely admits he once sought to murder you.’
‘It is a charming story, Grenville, and doubtless a complete and utter fabrication but, even so, you have missed its point. He claims he did not shoot me down even when he had the chance. I think we can safely dismiss the guards. You give me your word, colonel, that you will not seek to harm me, nor attempt to make an escape.’
‘I give you my word, sire. And, as a gesture of goodwill, might I ask for these irksome clankers to be struck from my wrists?’
Fellowes unlocked the manacles and led his men from the hall and Blood, grinning and rubbing his wrists said, ‘Now that it is just family, so to speak, shall we indulge in a little more candour? My son was about to talk, I believe. With your permission, sire?’
‘I should certainly like to hear what he has to say,’ said the King.
Holcroft looked at the men ranged against him: Sir Thomas Osborne, the Duke of Buckingham, Sir John Grenville and, of course, the King himself, each of them infinitely richer, wiser and more powerful than he. He closed his eyes and pictured the queen of diamonds. She was smiling at him, urging him on, giving him the courage to speak in this august company. The diamond on the black choker around her neck winked shards of light. And then her face slowly changed; the crude flat, painted lines of the card became living human flesh. It was the face of Aphra Behn. She smiled at him, too.
He opened his eyes. ‘I know that the Treaty of Dover, which was proclaimed in December of last year was a sham. It was the second treaty of that same name to be agreed between His Majesty and King Louis XIV of France. The first one was agreed, signed and sealed in June of last year a full six months before my Lord Buckingham arranged the false treaty with such strange ease. The true treaty was all but identical to the sham one, save for one crucial paragraph, which I shall come to in a moment . . .’
Holcroft faltered. The entire hall was deathly silent. He summoned all his strength and forged onwards, the phrases, long rehearsed in his head in Aphra’s garret, coming out staccato, as if he were reading from a list on sheet of paper. ‘The Duke of Buckingham was not told of the first treaty. This treaty was arranged by my Lord Arlington and his colleague Sir Thomas Clifford on a secret visit to France in May last year. Both of these men espouse the Catholic faith. The Duke of Buckingham, with the wide webs of informants that he has, soon discovered that his second treaty was false and he set himself and all his agents to uncovering the secret of the first.’
Holcroft stopped. He felt dizzy and sick.
‘Is this true?’ asked the King, looking at Buckingham.
The duke gave a small shrug but said nothing.
Holcroft continued: ‘This secret, Your Majesty, was discovered earlier this year by my Lord Buckingham’s new chief agent in Versailles, a fellow named Jupon. I shall now quote from the real treaty, the single paragraph that differs from the sham, which reads as follows . . .’
Holcroft closed his eyes again to block out the intimidating stares coming from the dais and said, ‘The King of England will make a public profession of the Catholic faith and will receive the sum of two million crowns, to aid him in this project, from the Most Christian King, in the course of the next six months. The date of this declaration is left absolutely to his own pleasure . . .’ Then he stopped and opened his eyes.
No one said a word. Holcroft saw that the King’s expression had not changed, the Duke of Buckingham still offered him the same contemptuous glare. Sir John Grenville looked as grim as usual. Only Sir Thomas Osborne now looked surprised. His mouth gaped a little. Then he shut it with a snap and began shooting nervous little glances to his left towards the King.
‘I came upon the secret report from Jupon while I was employed as a confidential clerk by His Grace. I made a copy of the coded report, which I have translated and had set as a pamphlet, and which I will distribute throughout all the Three Kingdoms, if necessary. On the other hand, if my father receives a pardon for his actions at the Tower – which all here know were ordered by the Duke of Buckingham with the full knowledge of His Majesty – then I will destroy all the pamphlets and give my solemn word never to speak of this matter to anyone, ever again.’
Holcroft let out a long, loud breath – his task complete; his shoulders slumped and he dropped his eyes to the floor. He felt utterly exhausted.
Blood said: ‘Ah, Your Majesty, what were you thinking? To set such a promise down on paper, even in a secret treaty . . . such a rash course of action. I do not like to condemn a man for his religion but you must know the people of England will not stand to have a Catholic King. They have suffered under the rule of Papist monarchs before. Word that His Majesty had sold his soul to Rome would unleash a storm of fire and blood all across the land, a cataclysm far worse than all the wars of the last age. And, who knows, perhaps once again a King might lose his throne, perhaps his head.’
‘Thank you, colonel, I think we all grasp the appalling implications of this information being revealed to the public,’ said Osborne.
‘Keep the Protestant faith, Your Majesty, and we’ll all come up smiling yet.’ Blood’s innocent blue eyes twinkled.
‘As I see it, sire, you have little choice,’ said Osborne quietly in the King’s ear. ‘If this were to become generally known . . .’
‘All right, Sir Thomas, I take your point. I understand the danger perfectly. So, now, tell me, Colonel Blood, what would you do if I were to grant you a pardon for your crimes?’
‘I should endeavour to deserve it, sire,’ Blood answered, with a broad smile.
‘And you would be silent on this matter – all these dangerous matters?’
‘I should ever be the King’s most discreet and loyal servant – in so far as my dire poverty and lack of a proper livelihood would allow me to be.’
‘Your poverty? Livelihood . . . Good God Almighty, man, that sounds like another threat. What else do you want from me?’
‘My family had lands in Ireland, sire, at Sarney, in County Meath, such a beautiful little estate, and they were most cruelly taken from me by your man the Duke of Ormonde and given away to another. If there could be some small recompense for that deprivation . . .’
‘By God, sir, you are a damned rogue – but, well, I imagine something might be arranged, if only to keep you on the side of the angels.’
‘If I might suggest something, sire,’ said Sir John Grenville, giving a sly sideways glance at the Duke of Buckingham.
‘Yes?’
‘I believe that little estate in Straffan, County Kildare, the one we discussed some days past, is of a similar size to the Sarney lands, sire. It yields at least five hundred pounds a year, if I remember aright.’
‘What? No, no, sire. No! Hold hard just a moment,’ the Duke of Buckingham had been jerked out of his silence. ‘You promised me the title to those lands, Your Majesty. You gave me your word!’
‘I said I’d think about it. But you most certainly did give me your
word that you would arrange this matter of Colonel Blood without embarrassing me – and yet I find that, not only have you dragged me into one of the most painful episodes of my reign, but that your snooping into my affairs has led to your own clerk being able to extort pardons and favours out of me.’
Charles rose from his throne, standing to his full, imposing height, eyes glittering. ‘So no, Your Grace, I will not hold hard, as you so crudely put it: nor shall I give the Straffan lands into your hand. You did this to me, and you shall not profit from it. I shall grant Straffan to the colonel as a fitting recompense for Sarney—’
‘Sire, this is most unfitting,’ said Buckingham hotly, ‘this is all quite wrong. If I might have a private word, I am sure we can . . .’
‘You will not interrupt me – and do not dare to tell me I am wrong. I shall grant Straffan to Blood and, furthermore, Your Grace, I believe that I shall thank you now to take your leave. Go! I have had quite enough of your odious presence at court. In your leisure time – and you will soon have a surfeit of it, I do most earnestly assure you – you may reflect long and hard on how badly you have served your King in this affair. Good day, sir!’
Buckingham stared at the King. His mouth worked but no words came out. Then, after making the most cursory of bows, and giving Blood and his son a look of deep malevolence, Buckingham began to stalk away, his footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden floor of the Banqueting House.
When he had gone, the King said: ‘Well, gentlemen, that seems to have concluded matters satisfactorily.’ He was actually smiling at the Bloods.
‘You shall have your pardon, sir, my clerks will have it drawn up today – and I suppose we must include all the conspirators; you have another son residing in the Tower, I believe. And we shall also transfer the titles to those lands in Kildare. You can arrange all that, Sir John, can’t you? And you, colonel, will swear to keep your mouth closed about this affair for the rest of your life. I hope that may satisfy you as well, young Holcroft – but wait! Since it appears that I am in such a forgiving mood today – tell me, Mister Blood, what is it that you desire from your King? What can I give you that will induce you to keep my little secret about this treaty business?’
‘I require nothing, sire. I only wished to see my father pardoned.’
‘Nonsense, it would please me to grant you some small mark of my favour. Name your boon, young man. I insist.’
‘In that case, sire, I should like an ensign’s commission in the King’s Foot Guards. If you would be so pleased as to grant one to me.’
‘Done! The King’s Foot Guards have a new and, I have no doubt,’ the King said with a certain hard emphasis, ‘surpassingly loyal and closed-mouthed junior officer. Sir John, you can arrange that too, can’t you? Have a word with Colonel Russell about the muster rolls, pay, billeting, and so on?’
Holcroft bowed deeply to the King.
‘If you gentlemen will kindly come with me,’ said Sir John Grenville, stepping forward with his arms spread wide and herding the two Bloods away from the dais and towards the far end of the hall.
Holcroft could barely feel his feet. He felt as if he were walking on the softest of clouds.
*
The Duke of Buckingham waited in the anteroom outside the main hall, pretending to admire an exquisite crystal vase in a niche on the wall. Henri d’Erloncourt, in his gold coat, stood in the corner of the room and two footmen waited by the door that led out to the wide White Hall street. The hall door creaked open and Sir John Grenville ushered Blood and Holcroft into the anteroom and swiftly through another portal and into the maze of backrooms and service areas of the Banqueting House. Buckingham did not even deign to turn around as the Bloods and Sir John passed by, he merely watched their short journey in the reflection of the vase. Some ten minutes after that, when Sir Thomas Osborne finally came through the door, the duke turned, smiling, and said, ‘A word with you, Sir Thomas, if you please.’
The two courtiers stood staring at each other. Both were tall, well-made men sporting fine, towering black periwigs, but one man was youthful, slim, pink-cheeked, crackling with energy, though plain in his dress; the other magnificent in purple robes, his face lined with age, yellowed by good wine.
‘You disappoint me, Thomas,’ said Buckingham at last. ‘I had expected a little more zeal and imagination in this matter. Blood still lives. And, since you were not able to silence him for good, I would have expected a little more fight in that room to keep him from receiving his undeserved pardon and, incidentally, to support my own position with the King.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Your Grace. But what’s done, is done. And it is not a bad outcome, I think. Blood will keep silent – as I believe you once remarked to me, he is not a blab. And his son has received a reward that should ensure his future loyalty. He, too, seems to be a discreet fellow.’
‘Not a bad outcome? I have been made to look incompetent. I have been chastised by the King, insulted and sent from his court like an unruly schoolboy being dismissed from the class.’
‘I meant not a bad outcome for the King, for the stability of the Three Kingdoms. The secret is kept; there will be no disturbances, no rebellion, nor do we risk a return to the horrors of civil war. Not a bad outcome. That is the cross that we loyal men who strive in the service of the Crown must ever endure: we must always put our country’s needs before our own desires.’
‘How very pious of you. And what little bon-bon did you manage to inveigle from His Majesty just now, eh?’
‘Since you ask, His Majesty felt that a mere knighthood was not a sufficient mark of recognition for a man of my talents. He feels that Baron Osborne or even Viscount Osborne would sound rather better. Lord Osborne does have a certain ring to it, wouldn’t you say?’
The duke said nothing but his jaw muscles writhed under the skin.
‘We also discussed my taking over the position of Lord Steward of the Household,’ Osborne continued blithely. ‘The Duke of Ormonde really is becoming quite advanced in years and these days he does not often venture from his house. And it seems there are no other men of great rank who are qualified for the role. Not one that His Majesty could think of, anyway. The King felt that someone younger, someone with more of spring in his step, should take over the burden of that position. The complex business of state really is a young man’s game, don’t you agree, Your Grace?’
The duke was white with rage yet, despite his obvious fury, he seemed to have been struck dumb.
‘I must not keep Your Grace,’ continued Osborne, bowing very low. ‘I’m sure you have many important matters to attend to – at your home, at least, if not at the King’s court – and so I shall bid you a very good day.’
*
The music room in Foot Guards’ House contained a good dozen men, both officers of the Foot Guards and civilians, when the Duke of Buckingham, followed by his golden-clad page Henri d’Erloncourt and two footmen, walked in at a few minutes before two of the clock. The hum of conversation faltered, then recovered, and His Grace noted silently that word of his humiliation in the Banqueting House that morning had already spread right across White Hall. A square wooden card table had been set in the centre of the room with four chairs around it. Ensign Churchill and Sir Thomas Littleton were already seated there, at the north and west positions the table, chatting amicably and each shuffling a fresh pack of cards as they waited for their partners to arrive. Buckingham slid into his seat at the east position, opposite Littleton, signalling to Fox Cub to bring him wine.
‘Have you found some reckless officer to partner you this afternoon, Churchill? If so, I hope he has brought a heavy purse with him. I have had a trying morning and am in the mood to relieve you both of a large sum.’
‘I have found someone, Your Grace – and indeed a fellow officer. He is the newest recruit to the mess of the King’s Foot Guards. I believe you are already acquainted with Ensign Holcroft Blood.’
Buckingham looked up slowly and saw his for
mer confidential clerk standing behind the last empty chair. Holcroft had not had time to equip himself with the gorgeous scarlet of the regiment so he wore his drab clerk’s attire. He tried to affect a military bearing nonetheless.
‘Good afternoon, Your Grace.’
‘Mister Blood, or indeed, Ensign Blood. I did not expect to see any more of you today. I cannot say that I welcome the sight.’
Holcroft sat down in his chair. The Duke of Buckingham was aware that many pairs of eyes were on him. It occurred to him that he might simply get up and walk out, with some remark about only playing cards with gentlemen, but he knew he would open himself to snide remarks about being too discomforted to play with a clever young man who had already bested him once that day. No, he decided rapidly, he would play the little sneak thief, would ensure that he won and he’d break the boy for good and anyone who was stupid enough to back him with their money. Holcroft Blood would be ruined – and if he could not pay his debts he would be shunned in this officer’s mess before he even formally joined it. What could be more satisfying after this morning’s debacle with the King? There would be no mercy for Holcroft Blood, the duke decided. No future for him either.
‘The game is White Hall Whist,’ said Sir Thomas Littleton, ‘and just so that there shall be no misunderstandings between us, I shall briefly run over the rules of this variety of the game.’
Littleton rattled through the rules: trumps to be determined by the last card dealt by the dealer; one point scored for every trick over six won by the partnership – so, as there were thirteen cards in each hand and thirteen tricks, a maximum score in one hand would be seven points. The first partnership to reach nine points would win the game. The match to be decided by best of three games, so the first partnership to win two games would win the match and receive the bonus, which would be double the points they were leading by. The losers were obliged to pay their losses immediately.
