by Smith, Skye
The face, Daniel had decided, for a moving sword arm was too difficult of a shot. Only a ball in the face would save Teesa from the sabre. Lunsford owed him a life, and now it was time for him to pay that debt. His trigger finger twitched and was ready to pull the trigger hard and fast to create a spark large enough to assure the powder would flash first time.
At that instant, the situation changed. On seeing the glint of the moving sabre, Teesa had let go of the bridle and had stepped back. On seeing armed men running at him from the buildings, Lunsford forgot about the lad and turned his horse to yell orders to his men. On seeing the raised sabre, Blake had leaped forward, circled Teesa's thin waist with an arm, and spun both of them backwards and away from the horse. With Teesa now safe, Daniel lowered his pistol and clicked the safety back on.
Yes Teesa was now safe from Lunsford, but was she safe from the free-for-all fight that must now surely break out between the mob and the horse-guard. And a huge mob it was. Men were pouring out of the shadows of the neglected palaces and into the street along the entire length of the procession. Most of them were dressed as apprentices, perhaps mercers, and carried whatever tool of their trades would best serve them as weapons. Perhaps a fifth of them were carrying muskets ... old fashioned Spanish matchlocks.
The twenty horse-guard in front of Charlie's carriage had all pulled their sabres because Lunsford had pulled his. Daniel groaned. This was about to become very bloody. This once fashionable Strand was about to become a vicious battleground. He reached for the chord around his neck to lift his whistle to his lips. All his clansmen wore a whistle in case they fell overboard. The shrill screech of the whistle could save a man in the water, and he now hoped that here on the Strand it would save a lot more lives than just one.
The effect of the long piercing screech was immediate. It was as if time stopped for a instant. He had everyone's attention, but perhaps only for a moment, so he called out to Lunsford, "Order your men to sheath their weapons, else we'll shoot them all!" As a punctuation mark he aimed his pistol at the man's face and called out, "and you will feel the first ball."
Lunsford looked around at the size of the silent and expectant mob, all poised ready for a fight with a vicious assortment of weapons in hand. He could see the glow of musket match-cords, dozens of them. "Snuff yer match-cords first, and then yee have a bargain." he replied. He took his first good look at the man with the pistol. He knew him from somewhere.
The words of the bargain were carried through the mob. The men with muskets held them high so that everyone could see their knives ready to cut off the burning end of the match-cords. They waited until all muskets were held high, and then as one they cut the glowing ends from the cords. Sabres were then sheathed and apprentice tools stuffed back under belts.
The main target of the mob now switched from the horse-guards to the king's carriage, and they crowded around it with no other purpose than to rock it wildly from side to side on its springs. The two drivers were swinging their lashes back and forth trying to get the mob to stop rocking the king. The two footmen standing on the rear steps of the carriage were holding on for dear life, and must have been very glad that all this mob seemed to want was to shake the king's brains, rather than knock some sense into them.
The officer in charge of the rear horse-guard rushed his men forward to push their horses between the carriage and the mob and form a defensive line. The rocking stopped but only because there were hands on sabre hilts again.
"Go tell yer brother officer about our bargain,” Daniel called out to Lunsford as he once again lifted his pistol. Lunsford wheeled his stallion and the mob opened a way for him so he could reach the other officer. The two officers bargained an agreement with the mob around the coach. The procession could continue, slowly, to Whitehall palace, and the mob could rock the carriage, but there would be no other damage done to horses, carriage, or men.
Teesa wanted to join the mob that was now walking along on both sides of the procession yelling obscenities and other unflattering words at Charlie such as "Papist cocksucker" and "Bishop's bum boy". Only when the procession and the mob had fully passed by them did Teesa complain that she still had not seen the king, for the coward was hiding well back from the carriage windows. She dragged Daniel and Blake along to join the procession to Whitehall, albeit she had the sense to stay well back with the stragglers.
The palace guards at Whitehall created a space in front of the gate so that the beleaguered procession could gain the safety of the palace courtyard and close the gates to keep the mob out. Only then did Teesa actually catch a glimpse of the king, as he hurried behind a human wall of guards into the palace. He was so short that he did not need to stoop to keep his face out of sight. The mocking calls of the mob still did not die, and the entire mob took up the cry of "If you wanted us to cheer you, why didn't you throw gold coins at us like you do with your ass kissing Lords."
The three of them watched the lewd fun for another hour, but rather than disperse, the mob was growing larger. While the original protesters had been apprentices and members of Warwick's Trained Band, the newly arrived were the jobless, bedless, foodless young folk of London. Some of them began to yell out witticisms such as, "Enjoy your feather bed, you useless tit." and "Invite your subjects in for a feast, why don't you." and "All that costly glass just to keep you warm and dry."
Later, when the mobs chants of "Feed us, Feed us, Feed us,” were ignored, they became angry. Someone threw a shard of cobble stone through a glass window, and the sound of shattering glass gave others the same idea. Within minutes there was not a solid pane of glass left in any of the windows of the outer walls of the palace.
"This mob will break up soon,” Blake told them, "for there’s no more glass to break, and that wind is getting colder. We should go before there is a rush to get away. Lunsford will like-as-not ride his men out to slash at any stragglers, just out of spite."
They circled away from the river and kept to the city side of Whitehall and the great Abbey and far away from any protestors or guards, and so it took them almost a half an hour to reach Warwick's house at the other end of the Abbey's buildings. It was lit up as if a party had begun. Luckily the gatekeep recognized them else they would have never gotten in, because the small drive and carriage park inside the high fence was filled with men dressed as undertakers, and there were still more undertakers trying to push in through the gate.
As Teesa led her escort through the wall of black cloaks, she even called over her shoulder, "It's an undertaker's party." Since she was dressed as a lad, and a peasant lad at that, none of these self important men were allowing her to get closer to the door, so in frustration she whipped off her cap, pulled her braids out, and let her soft yellow hair cascade over her hunters tunic. Now, with the help of some of the more gentlemanly undertakers, a path through them opened for her, but not for Blake or for Daniel.
Once Teesa reached the top of the steps to the front door, Warwick's doormen recognized her and pushed everyone, Lords and MPs alike, out of her way so that she could reach the inside unmolested. Once she reached the statue to the right of the door, she stepped up onto its plinth to put her face higher than all the undertakers, so she could see all about and be seen. She, as a clanswoman, also carried a whistle hung from a cord, for it was as handy for folk lost in the marshes as for folk lost at sea, and now she blew it, and blew it hard.
All around her and in the driveway below the thunder of light chatter died away, and she used the lull to point to Daniel and Blake and to yell out in her big girl voice, "Those men carry the latest new of the mob that has trapped the king in his own palace! Let them through!" That was the last of her words that anyone heard because the chatter of the crowd became a roar, but at least her escort was permitted to join her at the door, and together they pushed their way through the crowded front hall.
It was the start of a long night at Warwick's 'smaller' house because all the parliamentarians who were in opposition to the kin
g wanted to be told what to do next. This because the king had just broken the ancient tradition that parliamentarians were safe from arrest while at Westminster. The larger rooms of the house were being used by various parliamentary committees where self important men, that is, elected representatives, droned on incessantly about very little, or worse yet, about obscure points of law and about even more obscure points of order.
By shooing the Committee of Royal Houses out of her room for a few moments, Teesa was able to cast off the huntress and become a fetching woman again ... one of the house hostesses. Blake was dragged into the Committee of the Navy meeting by Henry Marten whose own total knowledge of ships and navies was that his wealthy father was a Naval Chief Justice. Oliver Cromwell latched onto Daniel's arm and swept him from one committee room to another to tell all that he knew of the mob at Whitehall, for otherwise Oliver would have never been invited into any of the committee rooms.
Daniel told everyone the same short report. A mob had jostled the king and his escort all the way down the Strand to Whitehall Palace, but no one had been injured and no damage was done except to the pride of Lunsford and his horse-guard. At Whitehall the mob doubled and tripled in size, but there was no fighting, and no injuries, although the Palace did lose all of its windows. He could not give an estimate of the size of the mob for he had left while the mob was still growing in size. The king had yet to realize that if he would just send food out to the hungry young folk, that most of them would disperse.
"Every window broken?" Warwick asked. He was also moving from committee room to committee room, though he was not a member of any of them. No one would refuse entry to the host, not this particular host. "Even with the shutters closed, this icy gale will make the palace uninhabitable for civilized folk."
"You mean wealthy folk,” Daniel corrected him, "for there are many civilized folk in London who will sleep cold tonight as they did last night." Some of the members groaned at his words, for few politicians cared if the poor of London were cold so long as their own homes were toasty warm. Of all of them, only Cromwell was poor enough to worry about the price of coal and food. Daniel spoke over the groans, "Yes, I would say the palace is now uninhabitable for haughty aristocrats."
"So the king must move his family to another palace,” Warwick continued, while choosing to ignore the dig at aristocrats. "What do you think gentlemen? Will he move them to Windsor Castle or to Hampton Court?"
"If he were smart he would move them safe behind Windsor's high walls,” John Hampden replied from where he was sitting on a sofa beside the reclined figure of John Pym, "so therefore he will choose the comfort of Hampton instead." He snickered cynically, for it was such a telling statement about the king and his courtly advisors.
"Whichever he chooses,” Daniel pointed out, "he can't move house while Whitehall is surrounded by a mob. I don't think Lunsford will risk his horse-guards trying to clear the mob, for there were many Spanish muskets in the crowd." He winked at Warwick, which caused the earl's faint smile to become a wide grin.
"I must excuse myself,” Warwick told the committee. "I must write a letter that explains today's extraordinary events to my brother-in-law who is an alderman in The City."
Daniel slipped out of the room with him. "So I take it that your newly recruited musketeers are going to work in shifts to keep the mob safe, and to keep Whitehall surrounded. May I suggest that you pay to have a few soup kitchens set up close by, along with some tents, and blankets. This wind is more of an enemy to the mob than some prissy horse-guard."
"That is exactly what I will write to my brother-in-law,” Warwick replied. "While these politicians are heating my house with their pompous words, the mob will keep Charlie cold and fearful in Whitehall. The mob will convince him to drop all charges against my Reformers faster than parliament will. I could hug the man who rallied the mob against Lunsford's horse-guard."
Daniel didn't mention that Teesa was that man, for he was still fearful for the safety of his youngest daughter in the close company of this Lord. He had long believed that England's entire aristocracy were trained to be slave masters in the way they were raised, and so were wont to treat lechery and rapine as one of their God given rights.
The reforming undertakers broke up at midnight, after which, and despite the frigid wind, Susannah ordered all the doors and windows to be opened to rid the manor of the muggy funk of winter men and their damp woolens and their tobacco. Daniel and Blake had tried to leave earlier in the evening for their quiet rooms at Alice’s shop, but Warwick had requested that they stay on just in case the gathering of politicians attracted some of the king's guards.
After the last of the undertakers had departed, the three men sat in the library sipping brandy while the rest of the household rushed about cleaning up the messes left by men too self-important to clean up after themselves. "What now?" Blake asked of Warwick.
Warwick replied, "You may leave with my thanks and with my blessing, or you are welcome to stay the night."
"I meant now that Charlie and the entire royal family are prisoners in their own palace? If you formally call out London's Trained Bands, then he is yours. If you put your men in charge of the White Tower, and imprison the Royals there ... for their own protection of course, then Charlie has no choice but to sign any bill that your reformers set before him. You have won."
Warwick's face lost its color at the thought. "If I did that then the House of Lords and every aristocrat in the kingdom would turn against us immediately. They would raise armies of men to march on London and rescue him, and once freed Charlie would reek a bloody vengeance on us all."
"Not if you had the help of Alex Leslie,” Daniel told them. "Shall I fetch him from Scotland for you?"
"Leslie the Scottish general who took Newcastle. That Leslie?" Warwick confirmed.
"The same. A street orphan who worked his way up through the ranks of the Swedish Army until he became a field marshal. The Lords of Scotland think they command him, but they are wrong. Alex Leslie wants dearly to collar Charlie and hold his leash, no matter what else the Lords of Scotland want."
"And what would stop Leslie from killing Charlie and his family so he could rule in his place as a dictator general?" Warwick waved away the idea with a hand.
"I am a Dutch trained pistoleer, the ultimate skirmisher,” Daniel told him. "Today when the mob were rocking Charlie's carriage I could have chosen to assassinate Charlie. It was Leslie's teachings that kept my pistol in my pocket. Leslie has convinced me that the only way to right all the wrongs done by the Stuart Regime is to capture the king and make the changes in his name. Think about it. So long as Charlie lives, none of his heirs can claim his wealth or power or crown. Since the changes may take a generation to take effect, Charlie must live long and be kept healthy in his captivity."
No one spoke for a few moments while they thought about these sage words.
"You said that Colonel Lunsford was leading Charlie's guards today,” Warwick finally said. "At least that confirms that he no longer commands the Tower of London. Unfortunately Charlie still refuses to hand control of the Tower over to Parliament. Without control of the Tower, we have nowhere fit to imprison him that is strong enough to hold him. Nay, this is not quite the time to take the King captive, but I do agree with your General Leslie. Eventually he must be captured and forced to make amends, so to that end he must remain alive and healthy."
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The Pistoleer - Pirates by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 23 - A King flees his subjects in February 1642
Over the next few days the snow continued to fall and so it was the weather and not any force of arms that dispersed the mob from Whitehall. Once they had left, Charlie ordered the move of his kith and kin and court away from the freezing cold Whitehall Palace. As John Hampden had predicted, the fool moved them all to Hampton Court. This did not go unnoticed and he was in residence there but a day and a night before that fine palace
lost some windows to musket balls that must have been fired from boats on the Thames or from along the embankment.
By the middle of January, the Royals and their court moved again, this time to the fortress of Windsor. The king reluctantly withdrew his indictments of treason against the five members of the House and the one Lord in hopes of appeasing the London mobs. In Parliament, or rather in the various Committees, the talk about the king's proven and continuous intent to use violence to silence parliamentarians was overshadowed by the news out of Ireland. There had just been a battle of swords near Dublin which had turned the rebels back. The Irish rebellion was turning into a war.
"What would the Scottish General Leslie do if he wus I?" Lord Devereux asked Robert Blake one day in Susannah's parlour where they were both awaiting the call to dinner. "Parliament is looking towards me for some action, yet heavens, what can I do without inciting the King to act as well?" Daniel was also in the parlour, but Devereux was pretending that the low born captain did not even exist.
Of the two friends, Daniel was the man of action while Blake was the clever strategist, so Devereux was right to ask this of Blake. Blakes reply was obvious, at least to Blake. "Send out your own men to hold safe the key arsenals. Even if you cannot stop Charlie from raising a strong force by calling the nobility to his side, at least you can stop him from supplying them with powder and shot, and heaven forbid, field guns."
"Hmm, a good thought. Thank you Robert. Now I have something to tell the committee."
"Tell the committee once it is done,” Blake continued, "for they will just delay the sending of the orders. If we in this room are thinking this way then you can be sure that Charlie's advisors ... seasoned soldiers like Digby and Lunsford ... are also thinking of it. Why waste the minute. Write the orders and send them out now, before we are called to dinner."
