Page 27 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)
C ourts in exile were no different from courts anywhere, Kit thought. The King had kept them waiting nearly two hours while pompous men in shabby suits bustled around them.
A King without a throne, and a court without a purpose.
Kit knew only too well that these bored exiles amused themselves with gossip and rumour in a manner quite unsurpassed by that of any well-established court.
He looked at the self-important faces and wondered how many of them were also taking silver from Thurloe’s hand.
Nothing the young King said or did went unnoticed or unremarked in London.
He had to admire Thurloe for the thoroughness with which he conducted his activities.
A court full of spies surrounded Charles, and in the years after Worcester, he had been one of them.
All he had to do was pass on the latest court gossip.
Life as Thurloe’s agent had not been unpleasant in those days.
Until Thurloe had summoned him back to London.
Fitz leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling, while Kit watched young Gerard deep in conversation with his uncle. Lord Gerard, he remembered now, had been a friend of his father’s, a well-intentioned and earnest little man.
The conversation had concluded. Lord Gerard nodded and parted from his nephew. Jack sauntered back to join them.
‘Well?’ Fitz enquired. ‘What’s happening? I thought the King was anxious to see us.’
‘He is but he has other business to attend to.’
‘God, I hate waiting,’ muttered Kit. ‘What other business can he have, for God’s sake?’
‘Patience, Lovell!’ Fitz counselled.
‘I don’t have any. I hate Paris and I hate France. I don’t know why I even came.’
‘Because you were commanded to?’ Fitz suggested. ‘Anyway, why do you hate France? I thought you were half-French.’
Kit shrugged. ‘I would rather be in England.’
Where I have some control over my life, Kit thought . Back in England, where I wouldn’t spend every moment worrying about Thamsine Granville.
‘You’ve not met my mother’s relatives,’ he continued. ‘Fortunately, they live well out of the way of Paris and I don’t have to trouble myself with them.’
This was rather unjust. His living relatives consisted of a couple of extremely pleasant aunts and some rather distant and dim cousins who lived in the crumbling chateau near Agens, where he had spent the first eight years of his life.
‘And now the French are conspiring with bloody Cromwell to have the King evicted from France,’ Kit went on, giving vent to his frustrations. ‘At least that is one thing the King and I have in common. He’s half-French too.’ Kit snorted. ‘A plague on our poxy French relatives!’
Lord Gerard appeared at the door. ‘Gentlemen, the King will see you now.’
There were the usual formalities to be observed and the three men bowed low as they entered the room.
Charles sat at a table, his advisors behind him.
He had changed immeasurably in the eighteen months since Kit had last seen him.
He saw no trace of the eager youngster who had urged them into battle at Worcester.
His hopes, his dreams and his innocence had died on that day.
For a young man of barely twenty-four, he looked ten years older.
‘Your Majesty!’ Kit said, marvelling at how odd the words sounded after all this time.
‘Lovell, Fitzjames, it is good to see you both again.’ Charles inclined his head to acknowledge them.
‘My nephew Jack, Your Majesty,’ Lord Gerard added.
‘I do not intend to waste time with pleasantries,’ the King said. ‘Word of what you plan has already reached me.’
‘Your Majesty, if you would but listen to Major Henshaw … ’
‘I will have no truck with Henshaw. He is a murderer and a man not to be trusted.’ Charles’ gaze ran around the circle of men. ‘As indeed are any of you. God’s blood, gentlemen, I am surrounded by plots and plans. My mother exhorts me one way, my cousin another. Which way am I to turn?’
‘Your Majesty, we want nothing more than your restoration to your rightful throne,’ Lord Gerard began.
‘Then if that is all you desire, your understanding of my predicament is na?ve, Gerard.’ Charles closed his eyes and waved a hand. ‘Very well, tell me your plan.’
Gerard turned to Fitzjames, who cleared his throat. ‘Sire, we have a contact here in the French court who is desirous of assisting us.’
Charles gave a derisive snort of laughter. ‘For what purpose?’
‘To be blunt,’ Lord Gerard said, ‘if you were to return to the throne of England, well disposed to the French court, then France will be highly relieved. There is considerable resentment about Cromwell’s high-handed support of the Huguenot cause and the way he is playing the Dutch against the Spanish. ’
‘And why would I be any different? I cannot countenance the wholesale slaughter of innocents on account of their religion.’
‘Your Majesty, we are straying from the point. Our plan is quite simple, to destabilize the army by removing Cromwell.’
Charles’ eyes took on a hooded, thoughtful look. ‘What do you mean by “remove”?’
Fitz spoke. ‘We plan to assassinate him, and while the army is in uproar there will be a rising in London. With less than a thousand men, we could take and hold Whitehall, the Tower and other key positions.’
‘And with you waiting in the Thames Estuary to land, England will fall,’ Lord Gerard concluded.
‘And what help will the French provide?’
‘The means to remove Cromwell,’ Fitzjames said quietly.
Charles closed his eyes; when he opened them they were fixed on Kit. ‘Lovell, you’re silent. What are your thoughts on this plan?’
A cold shiver ran down Kit’s spine. ‘I think we need some guarantee of general support before we embark on it. Without a firm commitment of men and money, we are talking about a dream, Your Majesty.’
‘I agree,’ Charles said. ‘Gentlemen, it is, I believe, now generally well known, that there is a committee in England that holds my commission for a general uprising should the circumstances prevail. I do not believe that the death of Cromwell alone will achieve anything in itself but … ’ he raised a finger, ‘ … should such an event occur as a prelude to an uprising sanctioned by the Sealed Knot, then it may be a worthwhile venture.’
‘But Your Majesty, we do not know who comprises the Sealed Knot. How can we discuss such matters with them?’ Fitz posed the question that had been on the tip of Kit’s tongue. He gave his friend a sharp glance, relieved that Fitz seemed ignorant of the composition of the Sealed Knot.
‘Who comprises the Sealed Knot is no concern of yours,’ the King said. ‘Gentlemen, officially I will not countenance an act of aggression against the person of Cromwell unless it is done in conjunction with an organised general insurrection.’
‘Your Majesty … ’ Lord Gerard began in a pleading tone.
Charles raised a hand. ‘That is my decision, Lord Gerard. Return to England but do nothing until agents of the Sealed Knot contact you. Is that clear?’
The men nodded.
‘Good day to you, gentlemen.’ The King gestured at the door.
The group walked out of the audience chamber. Heads turned and bent to whisper to companions as they passed by. It was only when they had secured the privacy of their lodgings and adjourned to a private parlour that Lord Gerard gave vent to his frustration by hurling his hat onto the table.
‘What is it going to take to convince him?’ he snorted.
‘I think the memory of Worcester is close to his heart,’ Kit said. ‘Who can blame him?’
‘Worcester was three years ago,’ Fitz said. ‘Lovell, pour the wine. I feel like getting drunk!’
‘Well, that will be a real contribution to the cause,’ Kit said. ‘Let’s all get drunk!’
He looked up as the door opened, without a knock, to admit a tall, dark man. They all jumped to their feet.
‘Your Highness!’ Lord Gerard said, bowing.
Prince Rupert of the Rhine poured himself a glass of wine and, looking around the assembled company, took a seat.
‘I hear your meeting with my cousin was not satisfactory,’ he said.
‘Not the conclusion we should have wished,’ Lord Gerard said glumly.
‘Charles has lost his courage,’ Rupert remarked.
‘He has lost heart,’ Kit said.
Rupert looked at him. The sharp eyes, Kit remembered so well, burning into his soul.
‘That too.’ Rupert took a sip of wine. ‘It happens that the Queen does not agree with her son. She believes firmly that the King’s fortunes will prosper in more … ’ He frowned, looking for the words, ‘ … active hands.’
‘I have heard the Duke of York,’ Lord Gerard said, referring to Charles’ younger brother James, ‘would not hesitate.’
‘I agree,’ Rupert said quietly. ‘I would lead an army into England to return the throne to the rightful King.’
‘You, Your Highness?’ Lord Gerard said.
Rupert’s eyes flashed. ‘I am hardly in my dotage yet, Gerard.’
‘I did not mean it that way, Your Highness. I meant merely to imply that you at the head of an army would have a greater chance of success than any other I could name.’
‘But there is one stumbling block.’ Rupert leaned forward. ‘Cromwell. He is not just the Lord Protector, he is the head of the army and a man to be feared. God knows we all know his power of leadership.’
Kit drained his cup, remembering Cromwell’s unprecedented tactics that had won the battle at Worcester.
‘Are you saying you agree with us, Your Highness?’ Fitz asked carefully.
‘Remove Cromwell and the army will be like a chicken without its head.’ Rupert swirled the contents of his glass, staring at it thoughtfully.
‘What of the Sealed Knot?’ Kit asked.
Rupert waved a long, slender hand. ‘Politicians. Old men with no wish except to die in their beds.’
‘Do you know who they are?’ Kit asked.
Rupert shook his head. ‘No. That is one of the few closely guarded secrets in this court.’
Kit bit back his frustration. Did no one know who these men were?
‘We cannot discount them. They hold the King’s Commission,’ Lord Gerard said.
‘That is just a piece of paper.’ Rupert drained his glass and rose to his feet. ‘We will talk again tomorrow, Gerard, you and I.’
They bowed as the formidable soldier left the room.
Kit watched the door close behind the man he once would have followed to his death.
The rumours were true. The court was divided, with the Queen and Rupert firmly in one camp, advocating action, while the King counselled caution. Who, if anyone, was right?