“And in the meantime every town is garrisoned and I dare not move one way or the other for fear that popular feeling may turn against me! All this arming smacks of civil war.”
“Therefore I help to push it on. No one wants another war, and daily more men are coming round to your side.”
“You think that, David?”
“I am sure of it, Sir. But use your influence in the Upper House. The Bill will come again very soon and I think it will easily pass the Commons. The Peers are your one hope.”
Charles rested his head in his hand.
“Mordieu! I am beset! I must look again to France.”
“Not yet. Let Shaftesbury run his course.”
“Oh, ay, ay! But what of the Orangists?”
“I told you some time ago, Sir, that Halifax blows cold when the rest blow hot. I believe he will oppose the Bill. Ostensibly it will be for the Duke of York, but William is at the back of his mind. He talks of another Bill of Securities that will vest all power in the Parliament. The Commons will never consent to that, I am sure. So if the Lords throw out the Exclusion, the Commons will throw out the Securities. Thus you gain time.”
Charles sighed.
“You are wonderful, David. So you advise me to take no steps?”
The favourite dangled his gloves by their tassels. He was cool and very collected.
“Not yet. Exert your influence in the Upper House and leave the factions to quarrel. The Country itself is divided in half.”
Charles sat silent. Suddenly he rose.
“It might be as well to recall James,” he said.
“If you like, Sir. It will bring him before the people again. It may bind his supporters more closely to him; on the other hand it will raise fresh opposition.”
“In fact,” said Charles, “it will raise more dissension, which you say we want.”
“Then send for him, Sir.”
A fortnight later Monmouth was travelling round England, having arrived in London secretly, by night, and Essex had joined with Shaftesbury. Russell and Cavendish handed in their resignations, and back came the Duke of York to London, furious at Monmouth’s return. The Exclusion Bill came and went; the tide was turning in the King’s favour.
Almost despairing, Shaftesbury brought in a Bill of Divorce, enabling the King to put away his Queen and remarry. Charles was very angry; the Duke of York was more so.
Then Roxhythe brought new and disturbing news to Court.
“Sire, Shaftesbury is desperate, but he contemplates a last blow.”
“What is it?” asked Charles.
The Duke, who was present, eyed Roxhythe malevolently.
“He seeks to impeach Lord Stafford.”
Charles sank back in his chair.
“Impossible!”
“It is infamous!” snapped the Duke. “It can come to naught.”
Roxhythe turned.
“Your pardon, Sir, it can come to a great deal.”
“Lord Stafford’s age protects him!”
“Not from the fury of the mob.”
“You are right,” said Charles wearily. “His trial would inflame them again. Shaftesbury knows that.”
“I have done all in my power to dissuade him, but he had a strong support. It has also come to his ears, through Essex, that I have not played his game alone. He looks on me with an eye of suspicion once more.”
“As well he might!”
Roxhythe smiled blandly upon his Grace.
“As well he might,” he agreed.
Charles frowned.
“I’ll have no bickering! Roxhythe works in my interests and yours, James.”
The Duke sneered. He did not relish being rebuked in front of the favourite.
“David, if the jury finds Stafford guilty I am undone. Already Louis stands against me, and if Shaftesbury succeeds in this, Sunderland will take fright again. What would you have me do?”
“Stafford must not die!” said James harshly. “It were iniquitous!”
Roxhythe walked to the window. He spoke with his back to the room.
“It may mean Stafford or you, Sir.”
James gnawed his lip. The King’s eyes were brooding.
“I might intervene.”
Silence.
“What say you, David?”
“You must intervene!” cried James.
“David!”
Roxhythe shrugged.
“You’ll lose all that we have been fighting for, Sir. Perhaps your throne.”
“You think that?”
“Your Majesty knows the temper of a mob. If it is baulked of its victim it may turn on you.”
“But, cordieu! Surely Stafford is innocent?”
“Undoubtedly. That will avail him naught.”
“No jury will find him guilty!” rasped James.
“I think no jury will dare acquit him.”
“Sangdieu, am I King, or am I not?” cried Charles.
“At present, Sir, you are King.”
“Is it possible, Lord Roxhythe, that you advise Stafford’s death?” asked James scathingly.
“I advise naught, sir. It is for His Majesty to decide.”
“It seems I am impotent,” said Charles. His voice held much of bitterness. “Why did I return to this ungrateful people?”
“God knows, Sir.”
“And what if I allow them to murder Stafford? Is it the end? Can I make it the end?”
“You will be nearing the end. Shaftesbury thinks to hold you at his mercy on account of the poverty of the Treasury. He relies on your enforced consent to the Exclusion. If you can wring money from France the end is in sight.”
“Faugh!” James flung himself back in his chair. “My God, to what are we coming?”
Charles was thinking quickly.
“I am still negotiating with Louis … it might be possible.”
“Mille diables, Sir, consider!”
“Pray calm yourself, James. Do you want the Crown?”
“Ay! But not this way!”
“How then?”
James was silent.
“In Stafford’s place I would readily die, Sir.”
James burst out again.
“Very noble, Lord Roxhythe, and easily said! You are not in his place!”
“At seventy, and lying in prison, death should be welcome,” said Roxhythe imperturbably.
“A traitor’s death? You sicken me! You revolt me!”
“Have done!” commanded the King. “It is Stafford or ourselves. And he has not yet been tried. Wait.”
“Call out the army!” snapped James. “Arrest Monmouth and Shaftesbury.”
Roxhythe smiled. The smile infuriated His Grace.
“Ay, sneer my lord, sneer! How do I know that you are not deliberately advising my brother to his undoing? You are very sanguine as to the result of this execution! What do you know? You would do well to have
