“You do not wish to put England under his thumb, Sir?”
“I do not wish to put myself under his thumb, Roxhythe. His Christian Majesty is very grasping. So I am forced to think of another alternative.”
“Well, Sir?”
“My nephew.”
For an instant Roxhythe was puzzled. Then his eyes narrowed.
“William of Orange.”
Charles nodded.
“You see the possibilities of the idea?”
“I see a great many impossibilities, Sir.”
“You are not over encouraging, Roxhythe. You have not heard what is in my mind as yet.”
Roxhythe bowed.
“I am waiting for Your Majesty to expound.”
“It is this. De Witt rules Holland, and he holds my nephew prisoner. Yet I have good reason to believe that his position is none too safe. Already there are murmurings among the people. Nassau is always Nassau—in Holland. If William were to rise up ’gainst Their High Mightinesses the mob would flock to his standard. The mob’s memory is never of the longest. In the face of his present unpopularity, it would forget the good De Witt wrought in Holland, and stand again for the Orange. With an English army to back him William might very easily overthrow De Witt and take his rightful place as Stadtholder. He might even be made King.”
“And the price, Sir?”
“Tribute paid to me, yearly.”
“So you will hold the Provinces as a subsidiary state to England?”
“Ostensibly. Enough to satisfy Ashley.”
“Ashley. So he is in the plot?”
Charles shrugged.
“To some extent. He does not know my whole mind. He sees advancement for himself in it. And the Country’s good. A patriot, this Ashley.”
“And who else knows of the thing, Sir?”
The King moved a little uneasily.
“Buckingham,” he answered shortly.
“Your Majesty trusts that man too much.”
The King’s eyes flashed.
“My Majesty does not brook correction, Roxhythe.”
“Your pardon, Sir.”
One of the dogs barked in its sleep and growled.
The King leant forward again.
“In Holland today there is a strong Orangist party. Influential men, some of them …” he mentioned names. … “And a few of the richer tradesmen. Not so many of that class. ’Tis the noblemen and the mob who are for the Orange, but the burghers stand by De Witt. If Louis presently invades the Low Countries, as I believe he will do, De Witt’s position becomes the more insecure. The mob will blame him for the invasion, and turn to rend him. Then were the time to produce the Prince, with a small force at his back. England would approve it, and in such a way I might become independent of Louis.”
“It is a pretty scheme, Sir,” said Roxhythe slowly. “But one point Your Majesty overlooks.”
“What is it?”
“The Prince himself, Sir.”
Charles brushed the objection aside.
“A mere boy. My bait should be tempting enough.”
“Have you considered that others may have dangled that same bait?”
“Louis. Assuredly. But on my side there is this: I am his uncle; England is Protestant, as he is. Louis is Catholic, and the blood-tie is not so close.”
“You are sure, too, that the Prince is amenable to bribes, Sir?”
The sombre look faded from the King’s face. He showed his teeth in a smile of pure mischief.
“Roxhythe, Roxhythe, have ye forgot he is a Stuart?”
The favourite laughed.
“No, Sir. Nor that he is also a Nassau.”
“A proud race,” nodded the King. “Still, his youth stands me in good stead.”
“He may have older and wiser councillors, Sir, not easy to dazzle.”
“I never yet met a statesman I could not bribe,” replied the King cynically.
A smile flickered across Roxhythe’s mouth.
“What will you bribe them with, Sir? I thought ’twas Your Majesty who required money.”
“I am prepared to spend some money that I may obtain more,” retorted the King. “I believe the Commons would assist me for such a cause.”
“All things are possible, Sir,” said Roxhythe pessimistically.
“So I think. But first I must know my nephew his mind. From all I can gather he is a youth of parts. I would lay my proposition before him, for without his consent nothing is possible.”
Roxhythe twisted his rings.
“And so we come to the part I have to play.”
Charles glanced at him affectionately.
“I would not press you, David. I but request.”
My lord’s lips twitched.
“Your Majesty knows I can refuse you nothing,” he said.
The King put out his hand quickly.
“Ah, David! If I had more about me of your loyalty!”
“Then, Sir, were I not so favoured,” smiled Roxhythe. “I am to go to the Hague?”
“Ay. You will bear a packet containing the—bribe—as writ by Ashley. But you know my mind as he does not, and you will plead my cause with the Prince yourself. Remember I am set on this thing if it may be brought about.”
Roxhythe stood up.
“I will serve you to the best of my ability, Sir. My instructions, I suppose, I receive from Messieurs Ashley and Villiers?”
“They await you in the room opposite. Roxhythe, my displeasure will be very great if you anger these men! Already they do not like it that I have chosen you for messenger, and I will have no petty quarrelling! Remember you are my friend!” He rose also, and extended his hand. He was a very great Prince.
Roxhythe kissed his fingers.
“I will bear your words in mind, Sir. But I never quarrel.”
“No,” admitted the King, laughing. “But you have a damned annoying air about you!”
“That is possible,” agreed my lord placidly, and left the presence.
Outside he paused, and glanced down the corridor. There was no one in sight.
“Ashley and Villiers,” he murmured. “What ails my little master?”
II
The King His Councillors
By the fireplace, lolling in one of the carven oak chairs, and from time to time selecting comfits from a jewelled box, was a tall, fair man rather florid of countenance, with very arched eyebrows, and an enormous periwig. His dress and appointments were rich and heavily perfumed; his face was painted and powdered; his air was blasé. He wore salmon-pink with silver facings and silver ribbons. His coat was marvellously embroidered; its sleeves turned back from the elbow to allow his fine cambric shirt to billow forth into foamy ruffles of Mechlin. His person was lavishly besprinkled with
