The Amorous Nightingale

    'Look at the state of me,' he complained.

    'It's hardly my fault.'

    'Of course it's your fault, Christopher! But for you, there would have been no urgency, no madcap ride around London.'

    'But you were the person who received the royal summons.'

    'I thought I was,' said Henry darkly.

    'What do you mean?'

    'I was not even ushered into His Majesty's presence. After sustaining a vicious wound at the hands of my barber, I went to the Palace in great haste, only to be met by Will Chiffinch.'

    'Chiffinch?'

    'Page of the Bedchamber.'

    'I thought I had heard the name before.'

    'Anyone who wishes to get close to His Majesty is acquainted with Will Chiffinch. He is far more than a Closet- Keeper. He is the King's friend and trusted confidant, his pimp, pander and procurer-general. Chiffinch is also employed on the most secret and delicate business such as raising money for the royal purse or supplying information of a highly sensitive nature.'

    'Then why did this Mr Chiffinch send for you?'

    'In order that I could be dispatched to find my brother.'

    Christopher was astonished. 'Me?'

    'How many brothers do I possess?'

    'But I have never even met this Will Chiffinch.'

    'He controls the door to His Majesty. That is what makes this all so humiliating. I am hauled off to the Palace to be told that the royal summons is really intended for you and that my sole contribution is to hunt you down at once. In short,' said Henry, stamping a peevish foot, 'I am reduced to the status of a servant, a messenger, an intercessory. Why not approach you directly? Why involve me at all?'

    'Did you not ask that?'

    'I was not permitted to ask anything, Christopher. Besides, getting a straight answer out of Will Chiffinch is like trying to tattoo a bubble in pitch darkness with your hands tied behind your back. He is a master of evasion. Truth and he parted company such a long time ago that they no longer have anything in common.' He wiped the sweat from his face with a large handkerchief. 'The upshot of it all is this: now that I've located you, I must take you to the Palace of Westminster for a vital meeting.'

    'With whom?'

    'I was not told.'

    'Why should I be summoned to the Palace?'

    'I am beyond caring. All I know is that I must deliver you there with all due speed.' He hauled himself up into the saddle. 'Mount up, Christopher. This farce has gone on long enough. Come with me before I expire on the spot. It is so unkind, so cruel. They do me wrong to send me on such a mean embassy.'

    'Is that what it is?' wondered the other. 'A mean embassy?'

    Henry straightened his hat and adjusted his coat.

    'There's only one way to find out,' he said balefully.

    A servant conducted them through the labyrinthine interior of the Palace before handing them over to the Page of the Bedchamber. William Chiffinch was waiting for them. A tall, spare, dignified man in sober attire, he was quite elderly yet having a sprightliness that belied his years. There was something strangely nondescript about Chiffinch, an elusive quality which made it somehow impossible to remember the exact configuration of his features once you turned away from him. He was a walking paradox, an impressive figure who was yet almost invisible, a wielder of power who evinced no sense of his real influence. Introduced to the man by his brother, Christopher was struck by the dark, watchful, worldly eyes, taking everything in yet yielding nothing in return. He felt that he had been judged and found wanting.

    'I am to take you into His Majesty's presence,' said Chiffinch.

    'Not before time,' snapped Henry irritably.

    'The invitation does not embrace you, Mr Redmayne. It is your brother who is in demand here. You were a convenient go-between.'

    Henry was mortified. 'A go-between! A man in my position being used as a convenient go-between? This is intolerable.'

    'On the contrary sir, you have rendered a useful service.'

    'Is that what you call it!'

    'Lower your voice, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Then do not give me cause to raise it, Mr Chiffinch. All that I ask for is a modicum of respect. Of simple human decency. Treat me as I have every right to be treated.'

    'I may be forced to do just that,' said Chiffinch smoothly.

    Henry blustered afresh. Christopher intervened swiftly.

    'Calm down,' he said, patting his brother's arm. 'I am sure that a happy compromise can be reached here.' He turned to the other man. 'Mr Chiffinch, I am very sensible of the honour visited upon me, but it is only fair to draw attention to the crucial role played by Henry in getting me here in the first place. Where I go, my brother goes with me. If you acquaint His Majesty with that fact, I think that he may be ready to indulge us. Both of us are at his service.'

    Chiffinch gave him a searching stare before letting himself out through a door. Christopher could not decide if he had surprised or annoyed the man. Henry had no doubts on the subject.

    'You have just stepped on some significant toes, Christopher.'

    'Have I?'

    'It's not the way to endear yourself to Will Chiffinch.'

    'I can live without his good opinion.'

    'Not if you wish to befriend His Majesty.'

    'I had to speak up for my brother,' said Christopher. 'You've been shabbily treated, Henry. I'll not stand by and let that happen.'

    'Thank you.'

    'We are in this together or not at all.'

    'Bold words! You may live to regret them.'

    'I think not.'

    Chiffinch rejoined them to pass on a curt command.

    'His Majesty will see you now - both of you.'

    Christopher allowed himself a quiet grin and Henry basked in what he saw as a substantial triumph. Both of them followed Chiffinch into the Drawing Room. Having escorted them to the centre of the ornate carpet, the Page backed away so silently that it was impossible to tell if he had left the room or was lurking in one of its many recesses. Neither Christopher nor his brother dared to look round. Their gaze was fixed on the tall, immaculately dressed figure who sat opposite them. Framed in the high window, King Charles was staring dejectedly at a ruby ring on his left hand and ignoring the spaniels who were clambering all over him. One of them was perched on his shoulder, nibbling at the outer edge of his periwig and arousing the yapping jealousy of the other dogs.

    The visitors waited until the royal head finally turned in their direction. Henry gave an extravagant bow but Christopher inclined his back with more restraint. Charles raised a morose eyebrow.

    'You have come at last,' he observed.

    'I had some difficulty finding my brother, Your Majesty,' said Henry apologetically. 'But I stuck to my task.'

    'Good.'

    'We are here at your command.'

    'Henry.'

    'Your Majesty?'

    'Be quiet, please.'