Strangely, Jane felt no satisfaction at the thought.
The pox, she decided, must have finally eaten its way through to her brain.
Hoogstraeten, on the border of the Netherlands
The letter reached Charles when he was surrounded by a room full of people: Sir Edward Hyde; Louis de Silva; several chaplains, courtiers and sundry servants.
The sealed letter was one of only several that had made their way to Charles from his land of birth that day, and it was the last that Charles had picked up. He broke the seal, paying the letter little mind as he laughed at some jest one of the courtiers made, then cast his eyes quickly over the contents.
He went still, horribly still, and his face paled.
“Majesty?” Hyde said, bending close.
Charles laid the letter against his chest so that Hyde could not read its contents.
“A sudden indisposition,” Charles said. “No more.”
“Do you need—” Hyde began.
“Some quiet, I think,” Charles said, and Hyde obediently turned and began to usher people from the royal presence.
“Louis, if you will…” Charles murmured, and Louis halted just inside the door, waited until Hyde had closed it behind himself, then walked back to Charles’ side.
“What is it?” Louis’ voice was tense.
Charles at first made no response, save to more diligently read the letter, then he handed it to Louis.
He noted without surprise the horror that spread across Louis’ face as he read.
“She’s carrying a child,” Louis whispered.
“We must act now,” said Charles. “To allow her to fall into Weyland’s hands while pregnant, or with a child in her arms…”
“Aye,” said Louis. The letter trembled a little in his hand, and he was about to speak again when the door to the chamber opened and closed. Both men jumped, but they relaxed as they saw Marguerite hurrying towards them.
“I heard…” she said, then her eyes fell on the letter in Louis’ hand, and she all but snatched it from him.
Her reaction was very different to that of the two men. A broad smile broke out across her face as she read the letter.
“How she must be pleased!” she said as, finally, she gave the letter back to Charles.
“Pleased?” Louis said. “That child…and the imp…and soon…”
“Weyland,” Charles said.
“The child will be a great comfort to her,” said Marguerite. “And what did you expect? Going to her and loving her? It is the way children are made.”
“I should go to her now,” said Charles.
“You can’t,” said Louis. “But I…”
“Neither of you can,” said Marguerite, and both men glanced at each other before as quickly looking away.
“I shall go to her,” Marguerite continued, “and Kate, for she is well enough after her daughter’s birth. Weyland shall never suspect our presence. He does not know of us. He does not suspect us. Charles, you may write to the Earl of Bedford, and ask him to expect us to stay. A small house in Woburn village, perhaps, will do well for Charles’ mistresses and whatever of their children they bring with them. I am sure the earl shall be glad to comply.”
“Yes, majesty,” said Charles wryly, but there was no amusement in his face, and when he looked back to Louis, there was nothing shared between the men but desperate worry.
“It is time,” said Marguerite softly, “that the first of Eaving’s Sisters returns to her side.”
Three
Hoogstraeten, on the border of the Netherlands
“Majesty! Majesty!”
Charles’ racquet missed the ball, and he swore. He was on the tennis court at Hoogstraeten, deep in battle with Louis, and the interruption had just cost him a game.
“What is it?” he snapped at Sir Stephen Fox who by now was standing at the side of the court, breathless from his run.
“Cromwell is dead.”
Charles stared at Fox. “Say again, man?”
“Cromwell is dead. A fever, some say, although another rumour whispers poison. But what care we? Cromwell is dead!”
“I hope not poison, for the sake of your reputation, majesty,” said Louis, who had come to Charles’ side. Both men were sweating heavily, the linen of each one’s shirt stuck in patches to their back and chest, their breeches stained at groin and waistband.
“Cromwell is truly dead?” Charles said.
“Aye,” said Fox. “And aye and aye again. A week since.”
Charles and Louis locked eyes; there was a great deal which needed to be said, and none of it here, with other ears listening.
The news had spread. Men were running from the house towards the tennis court, cheers announcing their forthcoming joyous arrival.
“What do we now, majesty?” said Fox, a great grin splitting his face.
“We play it more carefully than ever we have before,” said Charles, and Sir Edward Hyde, who had just arrived, nodded.
“Aye, majesty. Now is not the time to put a single foot wrong.”
“No invasion,” Charles said slowly, and again his eyes met Louis’. Not this time. “We wait for the invitation.”
Hyde looked at Fox, and around at the other men who had gathered in an excited circle about Charles. Exile, finally, finally, over!
Almost.
“Cromwell’s son, Richard?” said Charles. “Has he been proclaimed Protector, do you know?”
Fox nodded. “On his father’s deathbed. The Council of State has ratified it.”
“That isn’t worth the hot air it took them to expel the blessing,” said Louis.
“Nay,” Charles said. “Richard must now prove himself, and I think he shall not have the nerve for it. My friends, the world turned upside down fifteen years ago, but now I think the mighty tide of revolution has passed, along with Cromwell. Rebellion has exhausted itself, and we, we, shall return on the ebbing tide of its strength.”
“Who, then?” said Louis. “Who holds the power? Who the key to your—” our “—return?”
Charles looked at Sir Edward Hyde.
“General George Monck,” Hyde said, and Charles nodded. Monck was the leading general in Cromwell’s army, controlling over half of its total forces. He was virtually the most powerful man in Britain at the moment; not in title, but in influence and might of weapons.
“But Monck has been ever loyal to Cromwell,” said Fox. “He has never said a word in your favour, majesty.”
“It is what he doesn’t want that is more important,” said Hyde, “and what Monck doesn’t want is for England to dissolve into chaos, which is what is likely with Richard Cromwell at its helm.”
“He is an astute man,” said Charles. “He will be amenable to…discussion.”
“Promises of titles? Lands?” said Fox.
“No!” snapped Charles. “That is just what we must not do. Hyde, de Silva, my private chamber, if you please.”
They reconvened within Charles’ chamber within the half hour, giving both Louis and Charles time to bathe and change their clothes.
Hyde had gathered several sheets of paper, and a pen and inkwell lay to one side of his right hand.
Charles sat down at the table, Louis also, setting down a large flask of ale and three cups. He filled the cups and passed them about.
“Lord God,” Charles said quietly, “pray I do not make a misstep now.”
“It will take time,” said Hyde. “Months, likely, if not longer.”
“I know,” said Charles. “I am a patient man.” He laughed shortly. “After all, I have had the time and the opportunity to perfect my patience.”
Louis caught Charles’ eye. More than enough time, eh, my friend? More than two lifetimes’ worth of patience.
“What steps do we take now?” said Louis.
“We approach Monck,” said Hyde, “quietly and gently and humbly. Your crown literally rests in his hand, majesty.”
Charles briefly wiped a hand over his eyes. Pray to all gods, Christian included, that Weyland doesn’t think of that.
“What should I say?” Charles said. “What words do I use to beg my throne back?”
“Use words of truth,” said Louis. “He is a general. He has no time for the dissimulation of courtiers.”
“Perhaps,” Hyde said, picking up his pen and dipping it into the inkwell, “after a general salutation, we might say something in the manner of: ‘I know too well the power you have to do me good or harm not to desire you should be my friend’.”
Charles grunted. “Are those the kind of words a general would wish to hear, my friend?” he said to Louis.
“They are truth, and they are straight,” said Louis. “He will accept them, and not think you the weaker for speaking them.”
“Then perhaps some words stating my desire above all else for peace and happiness for all Englishmen,” said Charles to Hyde. “I am sure you can find something suitable to express my meaning.”
“Make sure also,” said Louis, “to ensure Monck knows that should he hear anything to the contrary, then it be a falsehood. The king desires peace for his country, nothing else. He does not send this missive with a sword in his hand.”