THE COMING OF THE KING
"Servant, sir." The man saluted me as he spoke, and moved a step nearer.
"Thank you for a good breakfast," I said. "I have been out all night,
and lost my way among the woods."
"Easy enough to do," he replied, nodding towards the great forest from
which I had come.
"To whom do they belong?"
He shook his head. "Pycroft woods," he added presently.
"And no one lives at Pycroft Hall, I suppose?"
"No one but the devil."
"I saw great heaps of stones in the woods."
"Ay, it is said there was a great mine at one time."
Beyond this the man could tell me nothing, though I asked him many
questions. I also made inquiries in a roundabout way concerning Pycroft
Hall, but he only shook his head. Evidently he knew nothing of it. I
also asked him concerning the day of the week, and I found that I must
have been full thirty hours alone in the bowels of the earth. I
concluded that old Solomon had not come to seek me, neither did he
believe that I should be able to find my way out.
After a time I felt sleepy, and the woman having offered me a bed
whereon to rest, I fell into a sleep, from which I did not awake until
past noon. After the dame had given me a meal consisting of boiled bacon
and potatoes, I felt strong enough to walk back to Folkestone, which,
after giving the woman another coin, I did.
I found that my absence had caused no surprise at the _Barley Sheaf_;
indeed, the news that the king was to land at Dover the next day but one
seemed to drive all other thoughts from their minds. I made many
inquiries, but could hear nothing of either Sir Charles Denman or his
wife. The woman had come mysteriously into my life, and had passed out
of it again just as mysteriously. And yet I thought much of her. I felt
in a way which I cannot explain that my life was linked with hers, and
that some time in the future I should see her again.
The following morning I had my horse saddled and started for Dover. I
had much company on the way, for, as it seemed to me, the whole
countryside had emptied itself in order to be at Dover to welcome the
new king. When I arrived at Dover town, moreover, I found a great
uproar; in truth, no fair I had ever seen provided such food for sport
and carnival as Dover town provided that day. In the inns and taverns
there was much drinking, while, in the streets, booths and shows were
everywhere in evidence. On every hand the people were shouting and
singing. Every street was festooned with flowers and flags, while it
appeared that every one was glad that the reign of Puritanism was over,
and that they would have a king instead of a parliament to reign over
them. I noticed, too, that in the booths there were plays representing
the downfall of the Puritans, while the great butt of most of the jokes
were those who dressed in the dark sober fashion of the times of Oliver
Cromwell, and quoted psalms with a pious sniffle.
"God save His Most Gracious Majesty King Charles the Second!" many
cried.
"Ay, ay," was the response. "We shall have a merry life under the king.
Plenty to drink, plenty to eat, and plenty of fun."
"Down with the psalm-singing hypocrites!"
"As though cock-fighting, dog-fighting, and bull-baiting hath not always
been an Englishman's sport."
"The King loves it, I hear."
"Ay, and he loves to kiss a pretty girl, too."
"Well, what's the harm in that?"
"None at all. He's young and comely, and loves his pleasure as a king
should."
"It'll go hard with the sour-faced psalm-singers, I hear."
"Well it ought. Did they not kill the king's father? I hear that at
least five hundred are to be hanged."
"But what about the Act of Oblivion?"
"Marry! as though the king will care aught about the Act of Oblivion.
The thing is, the country will be able to enjoy itself."
"Well it ought. After a man hath been to church once a week he's done
enough religion. After that let him enjoy himself."
All this and much more I heard as I passed along the streets; in truth,
much of what I saw and heard is not fit to record here, for many of the
people might have just been let out of Bedlam, so little did they seem
to care for what was clean and decent. Moreover, no notice was taken of
these things. There was neither law nor order, while, if some man should
say a word rebuking them for wrong-doing, he was immediately pounced
upon as a sour-faced Puritan. Such was the difference which was already
manifest, even before the new king had set his feet on English soil.
It was now the twenty-fourth day in May, and many reported that they had
seen a number of vessels bearing the king's retinue far away at sea, but
that he would not arrive until the following morning, as he desired to
enter the town, not when the people were tired and dusty, but as they
appeared after a night of rest and sleep, and when their finery was not
bedavered by a day's jostling.
I remembered that my father had told me he intended being in Dover on
the twenty-sixth of the month, but I imagined that he would make
diligent inquiries concerning the coming of the king, and would surely
be in Dover before it was too late for him to offer his welcome.
I therefore made my way to the _Fox and Hounds_, which I found to be
very full of people, and for a long time I was unable to gain any answer
to my inquiries, but I discovered presently that not only had Master
Philip Rashcliffe been to the inn, but he had also left word for me, in
case I should call, to wait for him in a private room which he had
hired.
I followed the servant to this room, and, being left alone, was about to
review the events which had taken place since I had left my home a few
days before. Apparently I had accomplished nought, but really I had
accomplished much, especially if there was truth in what old Father
Solomon had told me. Although I have said nothing concerning it here, I
had thought much before returning to Folkestone without again seeking
out the old man and accusing him of treachery. I reflected that it would
be best for him to think of me as dead, for if I went to him he would
take other steps for hiding the precious document, and then all through
which I had gone would be in vain. Only one thing tempted me to go back
to Pycroft Hall and again descend into those dark regions underground,
and that was the dread that he had treated the woman called Constance as
he had treated me. But, although the thought fretted me sorely, the more
I reflected, the stronger was my conviction that she had left the house
by some other means.
It was late in the evening before my father returned, and then he
greeted me as though we had been separated for years, instead of a few
days.
"How fares it with you, Roland, my son? You look pale, and there is a
bruise on your forehead."
"My hat covers the bruise, father," I replied gaily. "As to my pale
face, it will be quickly ruddy again."
"But tell me, hast thou done aught?" he said anxiously.
"As to that, I have much to relate, father, but whether it will end in
aught of advantage you shall speedily judge."
I therefore set to work and, as clearly as I could, told him of much
through which I had passed since the day I left him. For a long time he
spoke no word, either good or bad, concerning what he had heard, and
even when he broke the silence it was only to ask me many keen searching
questions, the which I found difficult to answer, for I had not thought
of many of the meanings which he attached to what had happened to me.
Nevertheless, he seemed well pleased with me, and admitted that I had
acted with much wisdom and caution. Concerning the black box, which lay
hidden in the cavern beneath the grounds of Pycroft, he pondered long,
so much so that I thought he forgot the dismal condition I had been in
when old Solomon had left me there alone.
"Thou hast done well, Roland," he said, "so well that I have no advice
to give thee save this. When thou dost appear before the king, do not
parade thy knowledge over-soon."
"I appear before the king!" I cried.
"Ay. That must be."
"But how?"
"I may be able to help thee in this; but if I cannot, thou hast a clever
head and must make thine own way. And another thing: if ever thou dost
see Dame Walters again, see to it that thou dost tell her nothing."
I looked at him questioningly.
"Never trust a woman more than you must," he said quietly. "The best
schemes in the world have been frustrated by women. The truth is, she
knows not how to hold her tongue."
"But it seems to me that you have gained knowledge of this through a
woman--through Katharine Harcomb," I suggested.
"Ay," he replied slowly and thoughtfully; "but women must be managed.
When dealt with by wise men they can become useful, even as Katharine
Harcomb became useful. Perhaps in the future you will be brought into
contact with women; well, never be impatient with them, and always keep
the mastery over them."
"But how came Katharine Harcomb to come to you with her news?" I asked.
"How came I to be commissioned with this work?"
"You will know some day," he replied; "it is nought of great importance,
but you shall know. The great matter for us to consider now is how you
are to gain the ear of the new king."
"What have you in your mind?" I asked.
"That I will not tell you," he replied. "A man is made, not by having
things done for him, but by doing things himself. For myself I care but
little for the future, but you are young, and life is before you. Well,
I shall leave your future mostly in your own hands. You have shown me
that you have courage and brains. With knowledge such as yours, you
ought to do much. Even if the king is unmoved by that knowledge, the
king's brother would give much to possess the thing of which you have
told me. But you must be wary; and you must be careful not to try and
pluck your apple before it is ripe."
I looked into his face, and tried to understand the thought behind all
this; but I could discover nothing. His face was like a mask which hid
the thoughts which I felt were passing through his mind.
"There will be gay doings to morrow," I suggested. "Ay, gay doings--gay
doings. The old order of things hath come to an end in a day. Yesterday
England was still Puritan; to-morrow it will be--God only knows what.
To-day the same people who, a little while ago, were shouting 'A free
Parliament!' are crying 'God save the king!' Bah! but we must be wise,
Roland, and you must win both fame and riches, or I shall be sorely
disappointed."
"What do you mean, father?"
"I mean that no man can be trusted, and every man must look out for
himself. In a week from now England will be changed. The theatres which
have been closed, will be opened, and there will be a new order of the
day. Cromwell wanted to make England the land of God. With him religion
was everything. He wanted to make England pious by law. Thus his cry was
ever, 'We must have men of God in all our public offices.' With Charles
all will be different--ay, I know him, and all will be different. The
devil will be let loose to-morrow--that is plain enough. The poets will
write poetry of a new order, pure waters will be made puddle, and pious
language will be made putrid. It's plain to be seen. Why, it hath begun
to appear in Dover even to-day. Evil is already naked and is not
ashamed, and filthiness crieth aloud. Well, Roland, methinks you have
your hand upon power. You must use it, but you must use it as one who
hath gentle blood in his veins."
"I do not like all this," I said at length.
"Do not like what?" asked my father almost roughly.
"I do not like the motive which is to prompt my deeds," I made answer.
"If it were only that justice may be done, then there is reason; but to
use my knowledge to squeeze favours out of the king is not acting the
part of one who bears the name of Rashcliffe."
My father started as though he had been stung.
"Ay, and what would you, Roland?" he cried. "Kings rule through fear,
and I would only obtain justice by the same means. I have been
robbed--thou hast been robbed. I know these Stuarts, and I shall never
get back mine own save by making the king or his brother feel that he
will do well to listen to my behests."
"Do you believe that what I saw is the real contract of marriage between
the king and Lucy Walters?"
"Ay, I believe it."
"Then that lad, James Croft, is next King of England?"
"He should be."
"Then let us understand," I said. "Suppose by this means we obtain from
the king all we desire? Suppose he gives you back our lands, and a place
in the nation's life, are we to keep quiet concerning this thing?"
My father was silent for some time, and then he said, "Roland, thou art
but a boy yet. There is much to be done. But thou must see the king, and
thou must go to the king's Court. Meanwhile thou hast thine hand on the
secret of power, and every wise man uses his power wisely."
And that was all he would say to me that night, which, as may be
imagined, puzzled me much. Nevertheless, I slept well that night, and
was only awakened by the jangling of bells and the shouts of a mighty
multitude.
My father had already risen and gone out, and so, no food being yet
obtainable, I also left the house and went towards the sea. I found a
great concourse of people on the sea shore, who were watching with great
eagerness the ships which lay quite near to land. Never did I witness
such rejoicing before. One might have imagined that the man who was in
the royal vessel outside had done some wondrous deeds for the nation,
and that we wanted to welcome him back, even as the Romans of olden time
welcomed back their great conquerors, who were followed by the trophies
of their warfare.
Many thought the king would land early in the morning, but it was not
until noon that the boat which was to bring him ashore touched the sand,
and then it seemed as though the shouts of the multitudes would rend the
very heavens.
As fortune would have it, both my father and I obtained a place close to
where General Monk stood, and so we were able to view the king's
landing. I took but little note of the others who accompanied King
Charles, for I was eager to see the man who was to be the new ruler of
the nation, and as I looked I saw that he looked older than his real
age, which was just thirty years. His face was deeply marked, and that
in spite of the fact that he was of full habit. I noticed too that he
was very dark, and that a very black moustache grew on his upper lip.
His eyes were small, and what some men might call sleepy-looking, but
every now and then they flashed, just as I have seen a serpent's eyes
flash when aroused from its sleep. He watched the shouting multitude,
not with the glad look that one might have expected, but with a kind of
mocking smile. Indeed, he seemed far more interested in a very small dog
that he carried than in the greeting of his subjects.
When he put his foot on the shore, however, and a great shout went up
from the multitude, he bowed and smiled pleasantly, and it was then I
saw wherein his fascination lay, and so much moved was I that I shouted
with the rest, at the which I saw my father, who was close by my side,
regard me with an amused smile.
After the great shout of welcome, a signal was given for silence, and
then General Monk came forward, and welcomed him with all possible marks
of reverence and love. But even although silence was commanded, the
enthusiasm of the people was so great that I could not hear all General
Monk's words. But I could not help noting, even although this great man
had welcomed the king with such evidences of loyalty, that he seemed to
be only playing a part. He seemed to despise the plaudits of the
multitude, even as the king did as he gazed over the sea of upturned
faces.
"Here, your Majesty, you see the love of a devoted and loyal people."
This was the conclusion of General Monk's speech, the former part of
which was, as I have said, drowned in the sea of voices.
Again the king smiled, a smile that was half cynical and bitter, even
although he seemed pleased at his reception.
"I thank my people, General," he said, "and in truth I blame myself for
not coming back before, so glad doth every one appear at my coming."
But no man seemed to note the meaning which lay at the back of his
words, nor to think of the time when this same king was hunted like a
fox throughout England, for they started to shouting again like men
possessed. And this was seen not only among the common people, but among
noblemen and gentlemen of all sorts.
After this the mayor of the town came forward, and offering him his
welcome, also gave him his white staff of office, which the king
returned with a pleasant smile.
"You govern the town so well, Master Mayor, that I will not rob the
people of such good service," he said with a smile, whereupon the people
shouted again, although they did not seem to know why they were
shouting.
Then the mayor, who looked very elated and joyous, presented the king
with a very gaily and beautifully bound Bible, saying as he did so--
"In the name of your loyal citizens, I do humbly offer your Majesty a
copy of the sacred Scriptures, which we possess through the learning,
the piety, and the gracious goodness of your most learned and sacred
grandfather, King James the First of England."
At this the king smiled again, and receiving the Bible, which he
afterwards gave to one of his retainers, he said, "I accept this gift
with great thanks, Master Mayor; among all things which I love in the
world, I love the Bible best."
He wellnigh laughed as he said this, but the people, if possible, became
more excited than ever.
"He loves the Bible!" they cried. "He is a pious king! God save His
Majesty!"
After this he walked with General Monk towards a canopy, under which he
stood talking with his nobles. It was at this time that I realized how
keen and penetrating was the king's gaze. For although his eyes seemed
to be habitually half closed, he did at times open them wide and look
keenly around him. Moreover, he seemed to understand everything at a
glance. I noticed also that when the king spoke it was to the point, and
that his remarks were weighty with sense.
"I will not stay at Dover," he said to General Monk. "The people have
seen me, and that is enough. From what I can gather they love a king
more than a protector; nevertheless, it is well that I go straight to
Canterbury Cathedral, where, in the interests of religion, I will
publicly give thanks to God for my safe return to my people."
"A wise step, your Majesty," said a young man who had stood near the
king the whole time.
"Ah, Master Tom Killigrew, I expect you to write a great ode to our
landing this day."
"I would that my poor wit were equal to the subject, your Majesty."
"Well, we shall see. Thou hast been faithful in mine adversity, and now
we return to gladder times."
"There have been many faithful during your Majesty's adversity. Through
all the dark years there have been many who have not bowed the knee to
Baal."
It was my father who spoke. Through influences that I knew not of, he
had obtained a place for us near General Monk, at the landing, and now
through the same means we had followed the king to the canopy.
"Who is this?" asked the king sharply.
"It is Master Philip Rashcliffe," said a voice. "He was one who fought
for your gracious sire in the first civil war, and was grievously
wounded."
He gave only a passing glance to my father, but fixed his eyes on me,
who stood by his side.
"And who is this brave youth? Nay, nay, do not speak for him; speak for
yourself, young man."
"My name is Roland Rashcliffe, your Majesty," I made answer.
"The son of Master Philip here?"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"A youth of spirit, I should judge," he said, "ay, and well grown too.
He pleaseth me well."
Now at this my heart was all elate, for let who will say otherwise, it
is no light thing for a youth to be noticed by his king.
"And thou hast come to bid me welcome, Master Roland?"
"Yes, sire," I replied, scarce daring to look him in the face.
"Well, rise; thou hast knelt long enough. And what favour dost thou
ask?"
I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and saw a quizzical look upon his face.
Nay, it was more than quizzical. He seemed, as I thought, suspicious of
my motives in coming, although I knew not why.
I had it on my tongue to tell him how my father had been impoverished by
the Puritans, but I only said--
"Nothing, your Majesty."
"Nothing? Then is thy request easily granted. Fancy, General Monk: I
have put it in the way of this youth to ask me a favour, and yet he hath
demanded nothing. Will this be an augury of my reign?"
"I trust so, your Majesty," replied Monk, and I thought I saw greed in
his eyes. "And yet many, although they ask not favour at your hands,
will seek justice," continued Monk boldly.
"Ah, how is that? Ay, I remember now. It hath been told me that your
life hath been in danger. That a fanatical Puritan woman, a daughter of
John Leslie, Constance by name, and wife of Sir Charles Denman, of
painful memory, sought your life when you took steps to ensure my coming
back to mine own. We must inquire into into this. She must be taken
prisoner and put to death."
"She hath already been taken prisoner."
"Ah, that is well. Well, we will see to it that both she and those who
aided and abetted her shall have justice. Where is she imprisoned?"
"At present in Bedford, sire."
"Ah, that is well. But I will not think of these things now. I must away
to Canterbury."
He took no further notice of me; nay, for that matter he regarded none
of those who gazed eagerly into his face. Instead, still carrying the
small dog, which he seemed to prize greatly, he left the canopy, and
made his way to a stately coach, which set out, amidst the continued
acclamations of the people, towards Canterbury.
As for myself, I took but little note of the king's departure, while the
feeling of joy which had come into my heart at his kind words passed
away. Why, I knew not, but the news that the woman called Constance, the
wife of Sir Charles Denman, had been put in prison and was doomed to
death, drove all other thoughts from my mind, and there and then I did
make up my mind that I would save her from such a terrible end.