St. George's Cross Part 8

"I dare be bold to say that human nature hath its operation amongst them," answered Charles, with his languid smile. "Give them what they want and their temper is easy. But enough of this, Nicholas will draw the pardon, and it shall be signed and sealed anon. But, further, take order that there be no more duelling. And now, as touching another of your prisoners, Major Querto?"

"The major was arrested among those present at the duel, in which it hath been shown that he was not a partic.i.p.ator," said Sir George; "but letters have been found in his possession which hinder his release without further inquiry."

"I can be the major's warrant," answered Charles. "He was a trooper in Goring's horse, and rose by reason of his wife being chosen to nurse my mother's last-born infant at Exeter. When her majesty retired into France, Querto, raised to be a commissioned officer, remained in Exeter. When that city was taken he followed his wife to France, from whence he is now come, bringing letters from her majesty to me."

"By your leave, sir," answered Carteret, "your information lacks completeness. Querto by no means repaired from Exeter to France. We have searched his valise, and have taken therefrom a packet of papers, from which it plainly appears that he is a false knave, who hath bubbled both sides. There is among these papers a letter from Sir John Grenville, to the effect that this fellow was to obtain money from the Parliament on a false pretence of delivering Scilly into their hands. There is another from Bulstrode Whitelock, in which the matter a.s.sumes a different and a more heinous aspect. According to that paper, Querto had been to London, and there undertaken, on the receipt of two thousand pounds, to aid in the betrayal, not merely of Scilly, but of Jersey. He had taken handsell of his price, and went to France, either to complete the bargain or else to trade with Mazarin. I leave to your majesty to determine which."

The king moved uneasily in his chair. He shunned the governor's searching eye, and affected to be watching a ship in the offing, of which a view was commanded by his cas.e.m.e.nt.

"That vessel appears to interest your majesty," said Carteret, "she flies St. Andrew's Cross."

"I opine that it is the vessel of the Scots Commissioners," answered Charles. "An it be so, we will receive them in council. Matters of great moment may be awaiting their arrival. For the present, Sir George, I bid you farewell."

It was now December. The "St. Martin's summer" of the Channel Islands was almost over. The trees were losing their leaves. The last roses lingered still only in sheltered nooks, rich as the Maufant garden. The sky was, however, serene, and the sea calm, as the Scottish ship sailed into the harbour. She had come over from Holland with a favouring wind, bringing the Chief Commissioner of the Parliament and clergy of Scotland, together with other gentlemen and officers, and an emissary from the Duke of Lorraine. The result of their arrival demands another chapter, for it seriously affected the fortunes of several persons concerned in the events which our history relates. Our scene changes to the ancient monastic chapel of the castle, in which the commissioners were brought before the king in council.

ACT V.

FAREWELL TO JERSEY.

The king's ordinary cabinet council was now reduced to three persons besides himself, for it must be remembered that down to the days of the German sovereigns, who could not join from ignorance of the language, the English kings were always members of the cabinet, as the viceroy is to this day in British India. Hyde still playing the vain Ind futile part of amba.s.sador in Madrid, Lord Hopton and the two secretaries, Nicholas and Long, were the only ministers present.

But the matter now opened by the arrival of the Scottish commissioners, was considered of so much moment as to justify, and even to demand, the summoning of the lieutenant-governor, and of all the peers then resident in Jersey. The deliberations of this a.s.sembly--which may be regarded as being tantamount to the Privy Council at large--lasted to the end of the month of December. But we are not dealing with general history. It will suffice to record that Winram, of Liberton, the chief of the mission, appeared charged, in the name of the parliament and clergy of the northern kingdom, to present and enforce certain written addresses, of which the gist was this.

Charles was to subscribe the "solemn league and covenant," to give pardon and amnesty to all past political offences, and to agree to maintain the Protestant religion, according to the Presbyterian rite.

Our fathers fought for freedom, but it was freedom only for themselves.

Upon these conditions it was observed by the foremost of the king's advisers, that the so-called "Scottish Parliament" was no Parliament at all, neither having been called by royal mandate nor dissolved by the late king's death. It was thus wanting in the essential elements and attributes. Dishonour and prejudice would accrue to any sovereign who should upset the very nature of the const.i.tution. Yet the commissioners a.s.serted stoutly that their employers would not be treated with under any other style, t.i.tle, or appellation. The king's councillors frowned.

It was added, further, that the clergy of the Church of England, as might be learnt from his majesty's own chaplains then present in Jersey, would strenuously oppose the Scottish alliance. They would indeed rather see the king go among the Papists in Ireland than among such strict Protestants as the Scots. These counsels were upheld by certain of the lords; and the Lord Byron, though not giving such extreme lengths, thought it not well to form a conclusive opinion until it was seen what advices should be received from Ireland, where Ormonde was still endeavouring to withstand the forces of the English Parliament under General Cromwell.

About the end of the month, however, all hope from that side faded away.

The defence of Ireland had melted before the two pa.s.sions of fear and avarice. All the strong places in Ireland had yielded themselves to the parliament. Ormonde admitted his failure in a letter to Charles, dated "Waterford, December 15, 1619." On this Lord Byron joined in urging the king to yield the questions of form or t.i.tle, and to treat with the Scots on their own terms.

While things were still in suspense, Alain le Gallais was wandering idly on the rude quay of S. Helier, looking up at the insulated castle, and vainly seeking to conjecture what might be the nature of the plans being there matured, when he was suddenly addressed from behind in a rough, but not wholly unfamiliar voice. Turning about he beheld the grim face and gaunt form of Major Querto, by no means softened by prison fare and restraint.

"I cannot say much in praise of your island, Captain," growled the veteran, "either as regards hospitality or diversion. Out of bare eight weeks that I have lived here, six have been spent in prison; and now that they have let me out, I can find nothing better to do than to count the pebbles upon this beach here."

Le Gallais led the grumbling officer to a neighbouring tavern, and called for a mug of cider and two gla.s.ses. When the liquor had begun to do its office, Querto showed signs of better cheer, nothing loth to have a companion.

"It is not often that a poor gentleman hath even such refreshment as this," he said presently, after lighting a pipe of tobacco. The words were hardly courteous, but the speaker had not been bred in courtesy.

"We had short commons in Exeter, but then there was none of the citizens fared better than we. Here in Jersey Mr. Lieutenant takes good care that they who have keep and they who want go on lacking. Yet methinks he might find it worth his while to take care for something else."

"What, mean you, major?" demanded the Jerseyman.

"Marry this," answered his companion, "that there be some among your friends who do not choose to starve while there are pistoles to be won by a brave action. Hark ye, captain, are you well affected or no? You need have no fear, sir, in telling me. I am not strait-laced, and I can keep counsel.

"Dost thou call to mind a certain evening in London when you and Mr.

Lempriere were walking home together, and a warning was uttered in your ears?"

"Was it thou that played the raven? Didst thou think that we were of your side?"

"Of my side, quotha. Why, man, do you think me one to take sides? O, lord Sir, sides are for the quality. d.i.c.k Querto is of his own side, no other. Now, see here, Captain le Gallais, mayhap you know one Pierre Benoist that was then in limbo?"

"Aye, do I, and what of him?"

"Why, marry this; that he is at large, and hath a lure for your young Charlie there that will bring him from his perch on the rock yonder, and mew the tercel in London town. What think ye the Parliament will deem a meet reward for the men who bring them such a prize as that?"

Le Gallais was aghast. He was asked to consent to a plot to kidnap the king, and convey him into the hands of those who had taken his father's anointed head from his shoulders. A plot to be carried out in Jersey, and by the aid of Jerseymen! Alain was not a blind royalist, as we have seen, but he had not learned, either from Prynne or from Lempriere, either that Jersey could exist without a King of England or that treachery was a necessary part of the work of liberty. At the same time the ruffian before him must not be prematurely alarmed. So he played his part as best he might.

"I must think of it," he said, "the enterprise is bold. Tell me no more of your projects," he added, with a sudden shame, as the swashbuckler was about to enter into details. "I cannot now take part in your work, for reasons."

"All the better," said the bravo, "but see that you betray me not. The fewer of us the larger the share; but you were best not betray me."

"Threats are not needed, major," answered the Jerseyman, "I am no traitor."

Le Gallais paid the reckoning and sauntered off, a prey to contending thoughts. That the cruel plot should come to nought, if its frustration were within his means, he unhesitatingly resolved. That Querto's confidence--unasked though it had been--should be used against himself, was equally unwelcome to Alain's sense of honour.

In his perplexity, he wandered almost as by instinct to the lodgings of the Lemprieres. He had long been accustomed to regard the simple good faith and courage of Mme. de Maufant as an infallible oracle in cases of conscience. Never had so hard a need for an infallible oracle presented itself to his mind as this.

He found the ladies seated in a parlour on the ground floor, engaged in their usual employment of knitting. The room was small, but warm and snug. Under a pledge of secrecy, he told them in general terms that there was a plot to seize the king, but took care not to mention the names either of Querto or Benoist.

Meanwhile the council having broken up for the day, the king retired to his chamber. But instead of resting and calling for refreshment, as was his wont on such occasions, he seemed to meditate an excursion. Only that, in deference to the prudent scruples of his council, he was apparently going forth in strict disguise, for he unbuckled his jewel-hilted sword, and took off his velvet doublet. Then tucking his long hair under a fur cap, and putting on a blouse, such as was worn by the country people, he walked out of the castle in the dark of the winter evening, pa.s.sing the sentries by giving the parole of the day.

The tide being low he walked across the "bridge," and at the town end was accosted by a man, attired like himself, who was waiting for him there.

"Owls be abroad," said the stranger.

"They mouse by night," answered the king.

Without further communication the two walked silently through the town, and up the steep lane in which Mme. de Maufant had taken up her abode.

It was on a hill over-looking the town, still known by the name of "The King's Cliff." At the back were woods and fields.

All this time Alain and the ladies of Maufant had remained in earnest consultation. Rose was for letting matters take their course. She had scant sympathy with those whose policy had separated her from her husband, and who were, as she believed, plotting the betrayal of her country, Jersey, and her Michael. In these lay all her world. That the king should be carried off to London was nothing to her. But Marguerite was younger and more generous. Wronged as she had been by Elliot's insolent schemes, that account was balanced and closed by the great audit. But she was not without a woman's romance, and the thought that a king, young and unfortunate, was to be sold to his father's relentless enemies and murderers, presented to her ardent mind a thing to be prevented at all hazards.

While they were thus debating the dog was heard to bark excitedly, and footsteps were audible in the garden behind the house.

"Mme. de Maufant," said a voice at the window, "come forth. It is I, Pierre Benoist. I bring a message from your husband."

"Wait an instant, Benoist," answered the lady, unalarmed, "I will let you in."

She went to the door, and gave admittance to two men in blouses. While one conversed with Mme. de Maufant, the other advanced to her sister, and, without taking heed of Le Gallais, addressed her in courtly tones, holding his fur cap in his hand, his brown hair fell down upon his shoulders.

"Fear nothing, bright pearl of Jersey," said the stranger. "A traveller who has heard of your charms asks leave to prove them."

"Marguerite!" whispered Le Gallais on the other side, "be careful, it is the king. I know his face. I have seen him many times in church."

Marguerite slipped to the ground on her knees. "Ah, sir," she said, imploringly, "the honour that you do us may cost your life. Your enemies are at hand. Perhaps the house is already surrounded. Ah, heaven! put up your hair!" So saying she aided the smiling young king to restore his disguise, whilst Alain, with a sudden impulse, threw himself upon Benoist, whom he gagged and pinioned almost before the rascal could utter a sound.