IX
Disillusionment
Christopher settled down to his old life very quickly.
England was in a state of unrest. In February of the next year Parliament met again. There was universal excitement, and some cries were directed against the King. Harcourt told Christopher that Charles was trying to dispense with a Parliament altogether. Christopher was amused.
Roxhythe had lately fallen foul of His Grace of Buckingham, ever his foe, and Buckingham proceeded to wage war on him, writing catchy doggerels which circulated the coffeehouses, and sneering at the favourite on every opportunity. Roxhythe complained that he was becoming a nuisance. Then his Grace overreached himself. He was very vehement on the subject of prorogation. He joined Shaftesbury in the popular cry that by the length of the prorogation the Parliament had ceased to exist. He employed all his caustic wit in this cause, and he grew excited. His section was outvoted, and he, Shaftesbury and Wharton were consigned to the Tower. Gossip whispered and gradually shouted that his imprisonment as one of the ringleaders of the movement was due to my Lord Roxhythe’s influence. Christopher listened, observed my lord, and believed Gossip. My lord smiled and said nothing.
In March Christopher received one of Roderick’s rare letters. He found it a bulky package and was surprised. Roderick was not wont to write at length. He settled himself more comfortably in his chair and spread the sheets before him.
There was very little preliminary. Roderick inquired after his health, and after that wasted no time in giving vent to his feelings.
“… Ye knowe, my dear Chris, how I Do long to See You out of Roxhythe His Service. Once more I Implore You to quit him. With him Ye Breathe the Air of Intrigue, of all thatt is Vile. It is in no Peevish Spirit thatt I Warn You, but in my Zeal for Yr. Welfare, which I have ever to Heart. Ye are Young: it may be thatt Ye are Ignorant of the Machinations of This Man for his Infamous Master. We in Holland have learnt by Bitter Experience never to Trust to Charles His Word. Ye in England must Surely knowe By Now the Truth concerning thatt most Disgraceful Affair in 1670. We knew, very soone after, thatt Charles had sold himself to France in a Shameful Treaty made Secretly with Louis. We sawe how he contrived to Trick his Parliament into wishing for War on Us. We knowe, for the Prince has Zealous Agents, what Partt my Lord Roxhythe played in thatt Treaty. He did haggle with Louis on Charles his Behalf, and did arrange a Secret Meeting for Both Parties. Were Ye not so Blinded by Yr. Love for him, Ye would have seen the Truth from the first. A Doubt Assails me thatt Ye did knowe, and did Connive at the Deed. I tell my self thatt ye are too good a Patriot, but the Doubt remains.
“Yr. King plays Fast and Loose with us. He did make Peace, Three Years Since, in ’74. But we knew then thatt his Hand had been Forced, and thatt he was not Desirous of Breaking from Louis. Else why did he Leave his Troops under his Profligate Bastard on this Soil? He did Finely Trick his Parliament, but he did not Deceive His Highness.
“Last Year we did Realise thatt he was in Need of Money to squander on his Women, and his Pleasures, for he did send my Lord Roxhythe to Traffic againe with His Highness, giving him Fair Words, and demanding Tribute for his Master. His Highness would have None of it, for he doth knowe how Perfidious is King Charles. We did Expect then to see the English Troops Once More against us, and have not been Disappointed. We do apprehend thatt Charles has Sold Him Self to Louis yet againe. England, without the Knowledge of Her Government, stands against us. The Prince His Agents have Grave suspicions thatt there have been Secret Dispatches passing from Charles to Louis. They do knowe thatt M. Barillon was closetted very Often with the King Last Yeare.
“And so I come to the Crux of the Matter. These same Agents who act for His Highness in England do knowe thatt a man went to the English Camp Last Yeare. This Man was You, Christopher.
“I do Pray Heaven thatt Yr. Mission was Innocent, and Indeed, we have No Proof thatt it was not. We do but Knowe thatt Ye visitted the Camp when My Lord Roxhythe was abed, Wounded. It is Possible thatt Ye did but go as Many have Gone before You, but we Fear otherwise, knowing You to be in Roxhythe his Service. Hardly a Month from thatt date, the English Army had moved Secretly, to Join the French.
“Oh, my deare Brother, I do Implore You to have no Dealings with King Charles! If Ye tell me Yr. Journey to Holland was Innocent I do Believe you, but a Grate Fear hath me in its Grip thatt Ye have been won to Roxhythe his Machinations by Yr. Infatuation for him. Christopher, pray consider what it is thatt Ye do! Think of Our Father his Grief were he Alive and knew thatt Ye were Working against the Country her Good, behind her Back, for a King who hath Neither Honour nor Decency; who does not Scruple to Betray his Country her Honour for a few Pounds!
“Ye have Refused to Believe thatt my Lord Roxhythe is not to be Trusted; Ye have shut Yr. Eyes to his Perfidy, seeing only his Fascination. Ye must knowe, however, thatt he Counts no Cost, and hath no Moral Sense. He will gaine his owne, or his Master his Ends by Fair Means or by Foul. Ye knowe his Vaunted Love for King Charles; the Country Counts for naught with him. He setteth Love for Man Above Love for Country.
“Christopher, I do fear thatt You too set Grater Store on Man than on Country, and on Right. Be advised by me who have seen so much of the Evils of the Day, do not let this be so. Remember Ye are Yr. Father his Son! Have no Secret Dealings Either for Roxhythe or the King! Deal openly Always, and do not Work against Yr. Country, for I do Earnestly tell You thatt the Country in these Troublous Times Counts for more than All Else. The Country needs True Patriots More than ever it did; do not You join the ranks of those Unworthy Englishmen of whom the King is one, and Roxhythe another! I pray You, do not lightly cast my Warning aside, nor Sneer at it as Ye have sneered at all others. I have no Spite against Roxhythe; I warn you because I knowe what manner of man he is; because I will not have My Brother under his Influence. Naught but Harm can come of it; I implore You, be warned by me!
“The Prince his Courage is undaunted by the Many Disasters thatt have befallen him. He doth hold the French King in Check, Daily growing Wiser in War, More Strong in Body. I would ye too might be Induced to Join him who is the One Honest Man. …”
Christopher read the letter through deliberately. When he came to the end he laid it down with fingers that trembled slightly. Every word rang true. At first his mind refused to grasp all that was set down before him; then, when the first numbness had passed he argued hotly with himself. Roderick had evidently believed the rumours of 1670. How often had he, Christopher, laughed at these rumours? But Roderick seemed to have proofs. … Bah! Were the Dutch spies wiser than all others? They too had listened to rumour, and, because Roxhythe had travelled frequently to the Louvre, had jumped to conclusions. It was not possible that the gracious King who had allowed him to kiss his hand, whom he believed in so implicitly, had descended to trafficking secretly with France! And Roxhythe, the lazy courtier, in very sooth an intriguer? Impossible! Yet. … How many times had he been warned? How many people had questioned him concerning my lord’s movements?
He referred again to the letter.
“… for he did send my Lord Roxhythe to Traffic againe with His Highness. …”
Last year. … That must have been when Roxhythe went, ostensibly, to Paris. Christopher had not known that he had gone to Holland. He had been left in the dark. … Well! Why not? Was my lord bound to confide in his secretary? … But how many more times had he been left in the dark? If my lord could play the emissary to Holland, why not to France? Why had he never thought of that before? Supposing the ’70 rumours were true? Had my lord indeed haggled with Louis for the King’s private ends? Had he been instrumental in selling England?
Again he took up the letter.
“… And so I come to the Crux of the matter. …”
He read it through carefully. Peste! Roderick was morbidly suspicious!
“… Hardly a month from thatt Date the English Army had Moved, Secretly, to Join the French. …”
Something seemed to seize his throat; he felt as though he were choking. These words of Roderick’s were based not on suspicion but on hard facts. Roderick was not the man to prevaricate that he might gain his own ends. … But it could not be! Roxhythe would never use him so! Nor would the King stoop to sell his Country to Louis. It was unthinkable, ridiculous! Charles was all that was most regal, most upright! Christopher remembered how he had extended his hand; he remembered the thrill that had run through him as he had kissed that hand. Surely, surely Charles was honest? And Roxhythe! It was impossible that he should have consented to use him deliberately, against his convictions! He did not believe it! He would not believe it! Sangdieu! He laughed at such senseless tittle-tattle! …
“… You not belief’ me. You t’ink heem onselfish and ver’ good. Well, I warn you, eet ees not so. You remember t’at always and you not get hurt. …”
De Staal. … And de Staal had loved Roxhythe. … The grave words were ringing in his ears—he could see the whole scene. It was nine years ago. How quiet the street had been! How peaceful was de Staal; how pathetic his love for Roxhythe! …
“I—like you, Chris. I—don’t want you to get hurt.”
Lady Frances. … She had warned him repeatedly. What was it she had said?
“… You think him very great, very good. Suppose—it were not so? Suppose he were not so true? …”
Had he been blinded by his love for Roxhythe? Was my lord the ruthless schemer they had all thought him? Even Ashley had warned him.
“… I fear he is not so indolent as he would have us believe. … I mistrust him. I have always mistrusted him. …”
Realisation was dawning on Christopher; doubts pulled him this way and that. He would not believe—he did not believe … but—oh, God, if it were so! …
Roxhythe came into the room in his usual leisurely fashion. Christopher ever afterwards remembered his appearance on that day. He was dressed in pearl grey velvet, with soft pink facings and sword-knot. The rosettes on his shoes were of pink satin; rubies sparkled in his cravat and on his fingers. He was carrying a ruby-studded comfit-box, given him by the King.
“Russell waxeth very wroth over Buckingham’s imprisonment,” remarked my lord. He gave a twitch to his billowing shirt sleeve. “He and Coventry inveigh against me.” He glanced up and saw Christopher’s face. “Oh. Well, what now?”
Christopher handed him Roderick’s letter.
“Please—read that, sir—and deny—what is writ there! I—it has disquieted my mind.”
Roxhythe sat down on the table-edge. He read the letter through in silence. Then he handed it back to Christopher.
“May I ask why such nonsense should disquiet you?”
Christopher rose quickly.
“It is nonsense, sir? There’s no truth in it?” His voice trembled relievedly. “And yet, sir—”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“There is a certain amount of truth interwoven, I grant you. The rest—bah!”
“Sir, this secret treaty with France that he writes of—it is a lie?”
“My dear Chris, best ask His Majesty.”
“Ah, don’t evade me! Roderick says that you were implicated in it! Harcourt feared it; Ashley too.”
“Your memory is not of the longest, Chris. Did we not discuss this question at the time?”
“Ay, sir. You told me then that it was a lie.”
“Am I likely to tell you that it was the truth now?”
“Tell me again, sir! You are not intriguing?”
“I was not.”
“I knew it! I knew it! But—”
“Well?”
“Roderick says that you acted envoy to the Prince of Orange last year. Roderick would not lie to me!”
Roxhythe seemed to consider.
“Why not?” he said at last. “I have done it before, and you too.”
“It was different then! We acted for the country; Ashley was privy to it. Roderick says that this time you acted for King Charles’ private ends—to gain money for him!”
“I admire your brother’s imagination, Chris.”
“I would I could think it only that! But he writes so earnestly.”
“Yes. I had noticed that he seemed concerned,” nodded my lord.
“He is concerned. And, sir, if you can intrigue with the Stadtholder for the King, I suppose you can intrigue for him with Louis. You told me naught of your journey to Holland; I cannot help wondering how many times you have plotted without my knowledge.”
“I wish you would sit down,” murmured my lord.
Christopher ignored him. He was controlling himself with difficulty.
“And now I wonder if it was indeed to Monmouth that I took that letter. At the time I thought—it strange—that I should give it to Cherrywood. I—oh, my lord, my lord! Tell me that my suspicions are without foundation! It is not possible that you should have used me as a tool! You could not have done it! You would not!”
“My dear Chris, why all this excitement? I could not have done it. I would not! Voilà!”
“I wish—oh, how I wish that I could believe you!” cried Christopher.
“Oh? Why can you not?”
“Sir, forgive me if I malign you, but you have so often journeyed to France—I—and then when you were ill, I had to go—and—oh, I have been warned so many, many times!” He spoke very bitterly. “De Staal told me not to trust you; Harcourt, Ashley, Lady Frances, Roderick! And I—thought—them—fools.”
“Belike they were.”
“You mean?” There was suppressed eagerness in his voice.
“Why, I mean that I have done you no harm nor am not like to.”
“It was in truth a letter to Monmouth?”
Roxhythe looked at him haughtily.
“Is His Majesty’s word not enough?”
“I wish I might be convinced! But you see what Roderick says! The army stands against Holland now. Everything comes back to me! Milward’s strange words which I did not understand; the presence of so many Frenchmen in the camp. Oh, my lord, don’t evade me! Or—” he stopped. “Is it possible that you too work in the dark? Do you know naught?”
Roxhythe stiffened. His eyes expressed blank amazement.
“I? Cordieu, Christopher, do you take me for a catspaw?”
Christopher took an uneasy pace across the room.
“I suppose not. You were then privy to the whole affair. The King sold himself to France in very truth! You can deny it if you will, but something tells me that it is so.”
Roxhythe twisted his rings.
“It seems that I must explain. Sit down.”
Christopher sank into the nearest chair.
“First,” my lord spoke sternly, “I’d have you remember the oath you swore to His Majesty.”
“Never to divulge by word or sign—oh, ay! I see it all now!”
“Endeavour to be less insane, Christopher. I did go to the Prince of Orange last year. King Charles is in need of money as your brother so sagely remarks. But the Prince is stubborn. He is imbued with the same false views that Roderick holds. Again I failed with him. So perforce, His Majesty turned to France. As to selling himself—pooh! He holds King Louis in the palm of his hand. He does not intend to make serious war on the Dutch, nor to further Louis’ interests abroad. He seeks only to squeeze Louis of money. It is true that we had some sort of a treaty, but you need not fear that Louis will profit by it.” He paused, looking at his secretary.
“And this,” said Christopher, “is honour!”
“It is a game, Christopher, called Politics. You cannot hope to understand the workings of the game; one must be bred up in it. You may not condemn that which you do not understand.”
“I had sooner not understand,” replied Christopher. “It is too black, too dishonourable!” He laughed strangely. “Politics! To keep faith with no one! To try to trick your fellows!”
“It is the law of life, my child.”
“No, sir. I will never believe that. And it is not politic to work behind the Country’s back.”
“The Country has not treated us exiles so well that we need consider it,” answered my lord.
“The Country should stand first with every Englishman!”
“So you say who have had naught but good from the Country.”
“Nothing would make me alter my opinions!”
“Why, that is very noble! We look on this from different standpoints. I owe allegiance to none save the King.”
“And I—thought the King—Oh, I cannot bear it!”
“You thought the King more than human. He is as other men, save that he has more brain than all your patriotic dunderheads clubbed together. What you call love for Country is in reality love for blundering, senseless policy which is not worthy of the name. Your honest statesmen would bring the Country lower than ever King Charles would. Do you think I have not experienced all your feelings? I thought the same as you when I was young. But I was wiser than you are. I saw that King Charles was the man to follow, not ‘the Country.’ I too had to choose which path I would tread. I chose to serve the King. I have seen a great deal in my time, Christopher, but never that the King worked harm on the Country. I have learnt to place my trust in him. You would do well to learn that lesson too. If you are to take an active part in politics of today, you must follow the King, or those of our number whom you believe to be ‘the Country.’ ”
“I would follow them! At least they are honest!”
“To what avail? What good is honesty in a world of vice? Is Louis honest? You know that he is not. What weapons shall we fight him with but his own?”
“You do not fight him! You play into his hands!”
“There speaks your ignorance. The King plays into no man’s hands.”
“Save his own!”
Roxhythe was silent.
Christopher clasped and unclasped his hands.
“I can understand that having chosen to follow the King you should speak in this vein. I can understand that you would do aught for him. But to trick me! to make me instrumental in selling England to France!—ay, my lord, you may say what you will, but that is what has been done!—I—it—oh, my lord, I trusted you so!”
The pent-up cry left Roxhythe unmoved.
“It was you or the King, Christopher. You should have followed your brother’s advice and left me long ago.”
“I would I had! I would I had listened to Roderick in the first place! But I thought you so good! so honourable! And all the time you were deceiving me, lying to me as you lied to me in ’70 when I asked what you did in Paris! My lord, it would have been kinder to have told me!”
A little hardness crept into my lord’s voice.
“Mayhap. But you were useful to me. You shielded me from suspicion by your very ignorance.”
“I—thought you cared—for me—a little! I loved you—so greatly! I would have done—anything in the world for you! And you—tricked me.”
“I do care for you, Chris.”
“Ah, no! You would never have treated me thus! I was—useful—to you.”
Roxhythe shrugged and opened his comfit-box.
“You make too much out of too little,” he said. “And you speak of matters above your head.”
“It may seem a little to you, sir. You care naught for Country or patriotism. But I, I have been bred to think only of that! You knew it! You knew how I would have revolted from the task had I known the truth.”
The brown eyes narrowed. Still colder became that passionless voice.
“Exactly,” bowed his lordship.
“I see,” said Christopher wearily. “You are as ruthless as they said. It did not matter what would be my feelings when I discovered the truth. The only thing that mattered was that King Charles should have his way.”
“Your sagacity is quite astounding,” said Roxhythe.
“And the King—I was so proud to be chosen for the task; so proud to kiss his hand; I believed in him so implicitly. And he joined with you in tricking me!”
Roxhythe ate another comfit.
Slowly Christopher picked up his brother’s letter. His mouth was very set, his eyes bewildered, terribly hurt.
“I cannot as yet—quite realize—everything,” he said unsteadily. “It—it takes time, my lord, to undo—the belief—of years. And it has come so—suddenly.”
“When you have considered the matter you will think differently,” replied Roxhythe, snapping his comfit-box. “There’s no harm done; only a jar to a rather fanatic love for Country.”
“I shall not think differently. I—I must think what I shall do. My—brain feels numbed. I—I can’t realize that you whom I loved and respected so have done this thing.”
“ ‘This thing’ is so delightfully tragic,” remarked my lord.
Christopher walked to the door. His hand trembled as he pulled back the curtain.
“You’ll—give me leave, sir.”
“Yes,” said Roxhythe.
Christopher went out.
For a long time after he had gone Roxhythe sat twisting his rings, and staring out of the window. At last he gave the faintest of sighs, and shrugged. The smile that came to his lips was not mirthful.