III
Agitations
So the Duke of Monmouth went to Scotland.
A mysterious tale arose. It was rumoured that the King had married Lucy Walters. There was much talk of a marriage certificate sealed in a certain box. Roxhythe attributed the tale to Shaftesbury, and affected dismay. He told the Earl that he had gone too far. He implored him to do nothing rash. Shaftesbury almost believed in his honesty.
As soon as he had put down the rising, the Duke of Monmouth returned triumphant to London.
Then the King fell ill. Monmouth showed himself everywhere on the strength of it, and my Lords Sunderland, Halifax and Essex implored Charles to recall the Duke of York. They were very much afraid that if Charles grew worse and died, Monmouth would succeed at once.
Back came the Duke of York, sore at what he termed his banishment. From Sunderland he learned that Roxhythe was all for his exclusion. He thanked the pious Lord Sunderland for this information, and confessed that it in no way surprised him. He raved at Charles. Charles, convalescent, told him that he was a fool, and sent him to Scotland. Acting partly on Roxhythe’s advice, and partly from his own disgust at his son, he deprived Monmouth of his generalship, and ordered him to leave the country.
Doggedly Shaftesbury clung to his cause, deserted by all but a few. Supported by Lords Russell and Roxhythe, he pushed on the persecution of the Catholics in the country. Several entirely innocent men were put to death, including eight priests. The terror of the Popish plot was fanned into fresh flame. Roxhythe watched carefully, and, at length, solemnly warned Shaftesbury that he was going beyond all bounds. He counselled prudence, but by now my Lord was violent.
The King entered into the conflict and dismissed him from his post of Lord President of the Council. As Roxhythe had predicted, he had the Council’s full support.
Then he summoned Roxhythe.
“There is danger, David.”
“Great danger, Sir. Shaftesbury is determined to win.”
“And so am I. We shall see. I have appealed to France.” He frowned.
“France has answered?”
“Ay. Offering me degrading terms! This means I must call a Parliament. Heigh-ho!”
“You would be wise to wait before you allow it to meet, Sir.”
“I must gain time. I shall prorogue its assembly until November.”
“November of ’80. If you can.”
“I know that I can.”
In spite of all petitions he stood firm. Parliament was not allowed to meet.
Shaftesbury grew still more daring. Again Roxhythe was closeted with the King.
Charles was worried.
“Shaftesbury exceeds all bounds, David. I am fearful for the result.”
“Give him rope, Sir,” advised my lord. “He’ll hang himself yet.”
“I don’t doubt it. But in the meantime he is working much harm. What is this tale of pamphlets?”
“Our gentle Earl has a brain, Sir. He has formed a body. I am one of the body. We promote agitation. In time Essex will join us.”
“Roxhythe, this is serious!”
“Not as serious as it would seem, Sir. The public is tired of the Popish plot. Instead of executions, we now have acquittals.”
“But if Essex joins Shaftesbury it will mean great trouble!”
“It will bring matters to a head. There will indeed be trouble, but if you stand firm you will win. Monmouth is to return.”
Charles started up.
“What’s that? Monmouth defy me?”
“Shaftesbury sways him to his will. He induces him to come back to London.”
“It exceeds all bounds! It is direct insolence to me!”
“Therefore let be. It gives you yet another handle against our good Earl. You may trust me to further the dissension in the Council. Halifax is still for the Orange. Sunderland. …” He paused.
“What of Sunderland?”
“He has my admiration. He is very secret. As yet I can hardly say which party he supports: Orange or James. He waits to see which will win.”
“God’s Body! I am prettily served!”
“You are, Sir.”
“That Monmouth should treat me thus! My own son!”
“Monmouth is a tool. You have very little to fear from that quarter. I have ascertained that every right-minded person in the country is opposed to him. They want Mary. Provided we can keep up the dissension, and use your influence in the Lords, the Exclusion Bill will be thrown out.”
“And in the meantime every town is garrisoned and I dare not move one way or the other for fear that popular feeling may turn against me! All this arming smacks of civil war.”
“Therefore I help to push it on. No one wants another war, and daily more men are coming round to your side.”
“You think that, David?”
“I am sure of it, Sir. But use your influence in the Upper House. The Bill will come again very soon and I think it will easily pass the Commons. The Peers are your one hope.”
Charles rested his head in his hand.
“Mordieu! I am beset! I must look again to France.”
“Not yet. Let Shaftesbury run his course.”
“Oh, ay, ay! But what of the Orangists?”
“I told you some time ago, Sir, that Halifax blows cold when the rest blow hot. I believe he will oppose the Bill. Ostensibly it will be for the Duke of York, but William is at the back of his mind. He talks of another Bill of Securities that will vest all power in the Parliament. The Commons will never consent to that, I am sure. So if the Lords throw out the Exclusion, the Commons will throw out the Securities. Thus you gain time.”
Charles sighed.
“You are wonderful, David. So you advise me to take no steps?”
The favourite dangled his gloves by their tassels. He was cool and very collected.
“Not yet. Exert your influence in the Upper House and leave the factions to quarrel. The Country itself is divided in half.”
Charles sat silent. Suddenly he rose.
“It might be as well to recall James,” he said.
“If you like, Sir. It will bring him before the people again. It may bind his supporters more closely to him; on the other hand it will raise fresh opposition.”
“In fact,” said Charles, “it will raise more dissension, which you say we want.”
“Then send for him, Sir.”
A fortnight later Monmouth was travelling round England, having arrived in London secretly, by night, and Essex had joined with Shaftesbury. Russell and Cavendish handed in their resignations, and back came the Duke of York to London, furious at Monmouth’s return. The Exclusion Bill came and went; the tide was turning in the King’s favour.
Almost despairing, Shaftesbury brought in a Bill of Divorce, enabling the King to put away his Queen and remarry. Charles was very angry; the Duke of York was more so.
Then Roxhythe brought new and disturbing news to Court.
“Sire, Shaftesbury is desperate, but he contemplates a last blow.”
“What is it?” asked Charles.
The Duke, who was present, eyed Roxhythe malevolently.
“He seeks to impeach Lord Stafford.”
Charles sank back in his chair.
“Impossible!”
“It is infamous!” snapped the Duke. “It can come to naught.”
Roxhythe turned.
“Your pardon, Sir, it can come to a great deal.”
“Lord Stafford’s age protects him!”
“Not from the fury of the mob.”
“You are right,” said Charles wearily. “His trial would inflame them again. Shaftesbury knows that.”
“I have done all in my power to dissuade him, but he had a strong support. It has also come to his ears, through Essex, that I have not played his game alone. He looks on me with an eye of suspicion once more.”
“As well he might!”
Roxhythe smiled blandly upon his Grace.
“As well he might,” he agreed.
Charles frowned.
“I’ll have no bickering! Roxhythe works in my interests and yours, James.”
The Duke sneered. He did not relish being rebuked in front of the favourite.
“David, if the jury finds Stafford guilty I am undone. Already Louis stands against me, and if Shaftesbury succeeds in this, Sunderland will take fright again. What would you have me do?”
“Stafford must not die!” said James harshly. “It were iniquitous!”
Roxhythe walked to the window. He spoke with his back to the room.
“It may mean Stafford or you, Sir.”
James gnawed his lip. The King’s eyes were brooding.
“I might intervene.”
Silence.
“What say you, David?”
“You must intervene!” cried James.
“David!”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“You’ll lose all that we have been fighting for, Sir. Perhaps your throne.”
“You think that?”
“Your Majesty knows the temper of a mob. If it is baulked of its victim it may turn on you.”
“But, cordieu! Surely Stafford is innocent?”
“Undoubtedly. That will avail him naught.”
“No jury will find him guilty!” rasped James.
“I think no jury will dare acquit him.”
“Sangdieu, am I King, or am I not?” cried Charles.
“At present, Sir, you are King.”
“Is it possible, Lord Roxhythe, that you advise Stafford’s death?” asked James scathingly.
“I advise naught, sir. It is for His Majesty to decide.”
“It seems I am impotent,” said Charles. His voice held much of bitterness. “Why did I return to this ungrateful people?”
“God knows, Sir.”
“And what if I allow them to murder Stafford? Is it the end? Can I make it the end?”
“You will be nearing the end. Shaftesbury thinks to hold you at his mercy on account of the poverty of the Treasury. He relies on your enforced consent to the Exclusion. If you can wring money from France the end is in sight.”
“Faugh!” James flung himself back in his chair. “My God, to what are we coming?”
Charles was thinking quickly.
“I am still negotiating with Louis … it might be possible.”
“Mille diables, Sir, consider!”
“Pray calm yourself, James. Do you want the Crown?”
“Ay! But not this way!”
“How then?”
James was silent.
“In Stafford’s place I would readily die, Sir.”
James burst out again.
“Very noble, Lord Roxhythe, and easily said! You are not in his place!”
“At seventy, and lying in prison, death should be welcome,” said Roxhythe imperturbably.
“A traitor’s death? You sicken me! You revolt me!”
“Have done!” commanded the King. “It is Stafford or ourselves. And he has not yet been tried. Wait.”
“Call out the army!” snapped James. “Arrest Monmouth and Shaftesbury.”
Roxhythe smiled. The smile infuriated His Grace.
“Ay, sneer my lord, sneer! How do I know that you are not deliberately advising my brother to his undoing? You are very sanguine as to the result of this execution! What do you know? You would do well to have a care!”
The brown eyes grew haughty.
“Your Grace is insulting.”
“Sangdieu! Has it come to that? I am insulting? I tell you, my lord—”
Charles rose. He was no longer one of them. He was the King.
“You are both lacking in respect to me. I will have no quarrelling here. James, you speak wildly. Roxhythe, you may go.”
My lord picked up his hat and bowed.
“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon.” He left the room.
The King turned to his brother.
“James, I request that you will not speak thus to Roxhythe. You should know by now that he acts only in my interests.”
“The man is double-faced! He hates me!”
“You have not given him overmuch cause to love you. I warn you, do not anger him.”
Two red spots burnt on the Duke’s cheekbones.
“Your Majesty asks too much of me! I also have a warning! Do not trust Roxhythe!”
Charles looked at him, half smiling. He seemed to slip back into his easy placidity.
“You are a fool, James,” he said, quite pleasantly.