VI
The King His Will
My lord lay in bed, propped up on pillows, rather weak from copious bleeding, but otherwise himself. The surgeon had been amazed at his nonchalance, well as he knew him, for the wound was deep, and the extraction of the bullet had been more than painful. My lord had neither flinched nor swooned.
Christopher was seated by the bedside, entertaining him, when John came into the room.
“My lord, the King is below.” He said it with the utmost unconcern. In his eyes the King was as nothing beside Roxhythe.
Roxhythe picked up his mirror.
“Admit His Majesty,” he said. “Give me that comb, Chris.”
“Should I not go to escort His Majesty?” asked Christopher, flustered.
“No. Give me the comb.”
Christopher watched him rearrange two curls. He looked at the door, wide-eyed.
John bowed His Majesty in. Roxhythe struggled up.
Charles went quickly to him, pressing him back on to the pillows.
“Don’t move, Davy! Ah, what a crime!”
Christopher withdrew discreetly.
Roxhythe kissed his master’s hand.
“Sire, you honour me very greatly. I scarce know how to thank you—”
Charles sat down.
“I came as soon as I heard the news. Some said you were dead; I have been in a ferment! No one knew the truth concerning the matter. Davy, how dared you scare me so?”
“I do crave your pardon, Sir. It was not my intention to be shot.” He smiled faintly. His hand rested in the King’s. “It was an accident.”
“A curious accident!” said Charles. “I want the truth, David.”
“For what purpose, Sir?”
“I’ll not have your murderer go unpunished!”
“But I am not dead. I repeat—it was an accident.”
Charles was incredulous.
“ ’Tis not like you to play the magnanimous part, Roxhythe. Are you shielding the man?”
“ ’Tis a new departure. A whim.”
“You’ll not be avenged?”
“By no means.”
“David, I will have the truth!”
“Sire, I will have your promise.”
“That I’ll not pursue the miscreant?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Charles frowned.
“Why, David?”
“Because it is my will.”
The King tried to keep back a laugh and failed.
“Oddsblood, you’re bold!”
Roxhythe smiled.
“Very well,” said Charles. “I promise—since it is your will. I suppose you know that I can refuse you nothing?”
“You’ve said so, Sir. Crewe conceived himself injured by my attentions to his wife. So he challenged me to fight him. I refused.”
“Challenged you! What presumption!”
“So I thought. The other day Lady Crewe came to my house—oh, quite innocently! Crewe discovered it, and came to challenge me again. Again I refused. Then the young coxcomb locked the door and laid two pistols before me. It was most exciting. We were to stand at opposite ends of the room and to fire. Oons, but he was furious!”
“David, do you tell me that you actually consented to such a proposal?”
Roxhythe was pained.
“Is it likely, Sir? I continued to refuse. The child was easy to bait. In the end his wrath got the better of him and he threatened to shoot me—er, like the dog I was.”
“Insolent!”
“Very. I did not think he had the courage to do it. Evidently he had, for here am I.”
The King’s brow was very black.
“He should be strung up if I had my way!”
“Happily for him you have not, Sir. I did consider the matter, but I decided to let him go.”
“But why? why?”
“There were several reasons. First, it was so damned amusing. And Roxhythe does not descend to vengeance on gnats. He was altogether too little. Lastly there is his wife.”
“Sangdieu! Are you so infatuated by that chit?”
“No. On the contrary. I am so weary of meeting her and seeing her wan looks cast at me that I am determined to make an end. I have sent them away. Had I handed Crewe over to justice Millicent would have remained. In all probability she would have expected me to marry her.”
The King’s lips twitched.
“So in this weird fashion you are rid of both?”
“That is it, Sir.”
“You are wonderful,” said Charles. “And quite unique.”
“I believe I am,” said his lordship modestly.
“You’ve still to combat the gossip,” warned Charles. “London is shrieking the news that you have been murdered by Crewe. No one will believe your tale of accidents.”
“Will they not, Sir! I think they will not dare to disbelieve—openly.”
“Perhaps you are right. But you cannot kill talk.”
“I shall not try. There will be no talk addressed to me. And Crewe will be out of reach.”
“And so it ends! I admit that it is a wise finish. But I would have liked to punish the wretch.”
“Sir, I have had enough of heroics. You’ll oblige me by treating the affair as an accident.”
Charles laughed at him.
“You shall be obeyed, my lord. And now there is another matter.”
“I know, Sir. I have been cursing my ill-luck all day.”
“So have I. ’Tis not often that you fail me, David.”
“I humbly beg your pardon, Sir.”
“No, no, Davy! ’Twas not your fault. But devil take us all, what am I to do?”
“May I make a suggestion, Sir?”
“Provided it bear sense.”
“I counsel you to continue your negotiations through Barillon.”
“I tell you I’ll not! You say fifty thousand is Louis’ price. It is not enough. Cordieu! the thing is hard to do as it stands. I’ll be well paid.”
“Fifty thousand is a very fair price, Sir.”
“Before he paid two hundred thousand.”
“True. But since then you have played fast and loose with him, Sir. You’ll not get that sum again.”
Charles bit his lip moodily.
“Does Louis think that it is an easy matter for me to trick my Parliament?”
“He remembers that you did it before with great ease, Sir.”
“Ay, but now they suspect me. Body o’ God! I’ll not accept a paltry fifty thousand for such a task!”
“What says Danby?” asked my lord.
“He is a fool.”
“I take it that he does not like the Bond?”
“Oh he likes it well enough until he is assailed by a fit of virtue. And then he glooms and grumbles. I am sick to death of them all.”
“And His Highness?”
“As usual he objects to what he terms ‘the bribe.’ He hath no head.”
“And Lauderdale?”
“To hell with Lauderdale!”
“I’m with you there. Beware that man, Sir!”
“Pah! I have him in a vice. He fears impeachment.”
“So! And now what?”
“I’ll write to Louis.”
A shadow crossed Roxhythe’s face.
“Your Majesty is vague. If it is not an impertinent question, what will you write?”
“Asking him for better terms.”
The firm lips curled.
“You’ll beg of Louis, Sir?”
Charles was silent.
Roxhythe stared before him. His face was hard, inscrutable.
Charles moved his hand wearily.
“I’ve no choice. I must have money. Last year I essayed the Commons. You saw what came of it. What else can I do?”
Roxhythe turned his head.
“Well … so be it. After all, what matter?”
“What indeed? I knew you would stand by me, Davy!” The King’s spirits had risen. Quickly they clouded over again.
“I wanted you to bear the letter to Paris—to plead my cause with Louis. And they tell me you’ll not be out of your room for a week.”
“They lie,” said my lord calmly. “But I fear I cannot travel for a week.”
“I’ll not have you move from your bed until the surgeon permits. Understand that, Roxhythe!”
“Is this an order, Sir?”
“An order that I will have obeyed.”
“Very well, Sir. And I do not think I should be an apt messenger.”
“I am sure you would,” smiled Charles.
“No. I am not versed in the art of—begging.”
“Roxhythe!”
The favourite lay back. There were grim lines about his mouth.
“I do not take that tone from any man alive, Roxhythe.”
My lord never said a word.
The King grew colder.
“I await your apology.”
“If I have offended, I ask your Majesty’s pardon. I but spoke my mind.”
Charles was very angry. He rose and put back his chair.
“It seems you want to quarrel with me, Roxhythe. You are under my displeasure.”
He stood looking down at the drawn face for a moment. Then he bent, laying his hand on Roxhythe’s.
“I had forgot how nigh I was to losing you, Davy. I’ faith, I cannot find it in my heart to punish your rudeness.” His voice was very gentle.
Roxhythe’s fingers closed on his.
“Sir, you know how great is my love for you! If I have been impertinent ’tis because I cannot bear to have you beg of Louis.”
“I know, David, I know! Do you think it does not irk me? But needs must when the devil drives.”
“If you say so, Sir, it is enough. Yet I am glad that I cannot bear this letter.”
“Now that I know your mind, I’d not ask you. Dimcock must take it.”
Dimcock was the King’s private messenger.
“Or Church,” said Roxhythe.
“No. Church is not faithful.”
“When did you discover that, Sir?”
Charles smiled.
“I discern your triumph. A week ago. I remembered your warnings. Now there is only Dimcock left. I dare not risk an unfaithful messenger with this.” He drew his hand away as he spoke. “I must go, Davy. I doubt I have tired you.”
“You have given me new life, Sir.”
“Have I? I will come again as soon as may be. And, Roxhythe!”
“Sire?”
“Promise me you will obey the surgeon! Mordieu, if I were to lose you—!”
“I promise, Sir.” Roxhythe stretched out his hand to the bell at his side. Charles rang it for him.
As if by magic, Christopher appeared.
“Chris, you will escort His Majesty downstairs.”
“Ah, Mr. Dart!” The King was pleased to be gracious. “I fear you have a difficult patient.”
Christopher smiled, bowing.
“No, Sir. My lord is quite tractable.”
“I have never found him so,” said Charles. “I charge you very straitly to have a care for him.” He flung a glance at Roxhythe, brimful of mischief. “ ’Twas a grievous accident!”
“Yes, Sir,” said Christopher grimly.
The King bent over Roxhythe again.
“Fare ye well, Davy. I shall come again within a day or two.”
Roxhythe kissed his hand.
“I can find no words wherewith to thank you, Sir. You are very good.”
Christopher accompanied the King downstairs, nearly bursting with pride.
“Is the surgeon satisfied with him?” asked Charles, his hand on the baluster.
“Yes, Sir. But he urges complete rest. My lord must not move this week.”
“See to it that he does not, Mr. Dart. He is very dear to me.”
“He is very dear to me, Sir.”
Charles looked at him kindly.
“That is very well. You have been with him some time, I think?”
“Yes, Sir. Close on eight years.”
“He has been with me for thirty. There is not his equal on this earth.”
Christopher blushed in anticipation of what he was going to say.
“Except Your Majesty, Sir.”
Charles laughed.
“Very good, Mr. Dart!”
As they crossed the hall, he spoke again.
“I think you were his would-be champion some time ago?”
Christopher met his quizzical glance and flushed to the ears.
“Why, Sir, I—he would not have it so—but—”
“I was much entertained to hear of it. I commend your action, Mr. Dart.” His two equerries joined him. He extended his hand to Christopher, who went on one knee to kiss it. In that moment he would have laid down his life for the King.