The Coming of the King

CHAPTER XXV

THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING

It came about in this wise. I had been taken away by myself into an empty chamber, which was carefully guarded. Not that I was treated rudely. Rather marked respect was paid to me, and I lacked nothing which any man might desire. Nevertheless I had thought much of the scene through which I had been passing, and what it all portended. I could not help realizing that the king had dismissed us very abruptly, and that sore displeasure had rested upon his face as I had spoken. As for Constance, her condition troubled me more than my own. I had noted the look in the king's eyes as he had watched her, and remembering what men said concerning him, I feared much. I determined however that no harm should happen to her, whatever might befall, for did I not love her with all my heart, and had I not told her of my love? Moreover I had promised that I would protect her, and as I thought of this, even prison walls became as nought to me. It was while I was scheming how I should fulfil my promise to her that a lackey entered the room and bade me follow him.

This I did like a man in a dream, for a great silence had fallen upon the king's palace, and everything appeared grim and ghostly. He led me through long corridors, and tortuous ways, so that without a guide I doubt if I could ever have found my way back to the room from which I had come. Presently, however, I heard the sound of distant laughter, and the noise of songsters, then as some intervening wall kept these sounds from reaching me, I passed by an open window, and heard the nightingales singing amongst the trees close by.

The lackey spoke no word, neither good nor bad, to me. I thought he looked sleepy, and would gladly have gone to his rest. Perhaps this was true, for it was rumoured that the king kept strange hours, and expected peculiar service at the hands of his servingmen.

Presently I stood in a little ante-chamber, where I was bidden to wait until it was the king's pleasure to see me, and here I waited I should think a full hour. The first part of the time was weary enough, but the second part passed like a flash of light, and this was because, even although I had tried not to listen, I had to hear that which interested me past words.

Evidently I was close to the apartment where the king was, for every word he spoke reached me with great plainness; but it was not his voice which thrilled my heart, it was anothers, as I shall soon have to tell.

"I pray thy pardon, pretty maid," I heard Charles say. "I know thou hast had a long day's ride, and must be aweary, but I felt I could not sleep until I had speech with thee again."

"I have nothing to say to Your Majesty," replied the voice of Constance.

"But I have much to say to thee, fair Constance. It is not oft that even a king beholds one so fair, or hears one whose speech is so pleasing. Besides, it will be to thine interest to listen to me, and to regard my proposals favourably."

The king's voice was, as I thought, thick with much wine, and I fancied I could see the evil leer in his black beady eyes as he spoke.

"I have brought thee here to-night," he went on, "so that I may tell thee of many things. And first, I desire that thou shouldst tell me what thou didst refuse but a few hours since. Where is this Puritan sister of thine?"

"And if I told Your Majesty?"

"Ah, pretty Constance, if it had been thee – well I fear thou wouldst have too lenient a judge. But thy sister is the wife of Denman, a man whose immediate arrest I have commanded. A bitter, sour-faced, lying Puritan, a man who took a leading part in the murder of my father. And this sister of thine, well she tried to kill the man who sought to bring me back to my kingdom. That is not easy to forgive. Had it been thy little hand which would have done this, I should e'en have laughed at Monk's dour face, and forgiven. And yet I must not forget. Thou hast shielded thy sister; thou hast kept her from punishment, and therefore – well, unless – but let me think – "

"I have decided to forgive thee on two conditions," he went on presently.

"And they, Your Majesty?"

"The first is that thou wilt tell me where this sister of thine is. The second will, I trust, be pleasing to thee, for surely the king's smile, and the king's companionship should – "

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," cried Constance, "but there is no need to speak of the second condition since I will never accept the first."

"You will not tell me where your sister is?"

"No, Your Majesty."

The king laughed. "I must e'en find out without your telling," he said.

"You never can;" and there was defiance in her voice.

"Ah!"

I noted the anger in his voice, and I forgot that I was listening to conversation which the king never intended should reach my ears, so eager was I to know what would follow.

"It is said that I am of an easy temper," he went on presently, "and it is hard to be angry in the presence of one so fair. Yet must the king be obeyed. So be sure of this, pretty Constance. I will e'en find the whereabouts of your sister. As for your father, he is already under arrest, and it will depend on you as to whether he goes to the gallows with the rest of my father's murderers, or whether he hold his head high in the state."

"On me, Your Majesty?"

"Ay, on you, pretty Constance." And then he said words which I will not write down, so base were they.

"Of this be assured," he went on, and it was easy to see that wine had unloosed his tongue, and driven away his judgement. "I will give no quarter to these canting Puritans. Neither for that matter will I bestow any favour upon these Presbyterians. I will have only such religion in my realm as I please. Not that I am much wedded to religion at all, especially that of the stern and strict nature. But this I know, it is to the Episcopals that I owe my crown, and it was they who fought for my father during the rebellion. Depend upon it, therefore, I will make short shrift of these hot-gospellers, and I will see to it that only those who are loyal to the crown shall be tolerated."

"Then Your Majesty's promises will go for nothing!" And there was a sting of scorn in Constance's tones, as well as in her words.

The king laughed. "A man makes reservations even in his promises," he said, "and think not that I am going to allow my father's murderers to go around stirring up dissension, or hot-gospellers to preach rebellion. Nay, you will soon see. The Puritans had no mercy, and Grand Dieu neither will I!"

At this there was silence.

"So, fair Constance, I beseech you for your own sake to – to be obedient to my wishes, and – "

"Will Your Majesty be pleased to forgive me," cried Constance. "It ill becomes me to boast, but I am not afraid of death, and so I beseech Your Majesty to mete out my punishment without delay."

"You mean that – "

"It would be better for me to die than that my father's child should turn traitor or coward."

At this I could not help giving expression to my gladness; indeed so loud was the sound that escaped my lips that the king heard me.

"Who is there?" he cried angrily.

A minute later I was brought into the room where the king was. I saw that his usually pale face had become of a purplish hue, while his slits of eyes shot an angry light.

"How now sirrah!" he cried, as I stood before him, "hast thou heard aught of the conversation between me and this maid?"

"I heard it all, sire."

For a moment he did not speak, gazing first at Constance and then at me. I also cast a hasty glance at the woman I loved, and in spite of my helplessness my heart rejoiced. Her face was pale, but she showed no fear, rather there was a look of confidence in her eyes, and an expression of unalterable determination.

Whether Charles II. realized this I know not, but I saw he was in no humour to be played with. Perchance this was the first time his will had been opposed since he had come back to England, for since that day I had first seen him at Dover he had received little but fulsome adulation.

"Thou hast heard all!"

"All, sire," I replied steadily, for now I felt no scrap of fear. For let who will say otherwise, Charles II., although King of England, was not a man to inspire reverence or awe. He looked cunning rather than thoughtful, sensuous rather than noble; one who, if he was kind, was kind because it was less troublesome than to be cruel. He did not impress me with his kingly presence, rather I thought of him even then as a weak despot.

He seemed to hesitate a moment as if to recall the conversation which had taken place between himself and Constance, and then as if he realized that nought of great importance was said, his brow cleared and a look of resolution came into his eyes.

"Thou knowest then that this maid, Mistress Constance Leslie, hath again refused to obey her king?"

"Yes, sire."

"But, mark you, I will know the truth. Look you, young sir, I judged that you know where her sister is. Speak the truth. I can detect a lie a mile away."

"I will tell you no lies, sire!"

"Then I repeat the question, 'Do you know where this maid's sister is?'"

"No, sire."

"But you can make a shrewd guess? Come, yes or no. You believe you know where she is?"

"Yes," I made answer.

"Ah, that is good. And now we will see, Mistress Constance, who is master. Now we will see whether the king will not have his way." And then again he said that which I will not write down.

Surely, I have told myself since, he must have been brutalized by too much wine, or he would never have spoken as he did, for his speech was that of a villain in a fourth rate stage play, rather than of one in whose veins ran royal blood.

"I cannot get at you through your father," he said to her, "but I can and will through your sister. You care nothing for the old hot-gospeller; well, I can forgive you for that. But this sister of yours, well, you have suffered much for her already, and would suffer more. Ah, yes, pretty Constance, I see through you. To avert suspicion from her you have e'en gone abroad as the wife of this Denman; you have fetched and carried for him like a dog. Well, now, to save her, you shall e'en do as much and more for your king. For if you will not, I will make this sister of thine – but I will not speak of that now. You will be wise, and do my will. Now then, Master Roland Rashcliffe, you say you can shrewdly guess where this other daughter of John Leslie is. Tell me, I command you."

The king was gazing eagerly at me as he spoke, but instead of returning his look I turned for a moment towards Constance, and I saw that her eyes were imploring me not to speak. But there was no confidence in them now; rather there was a great fear. She could depend on her own fortitude, but not on mine.

"I trust Your Majesty will not insist on this," I said.

"And why, Master Malapert?"

"Because I cannot obey your command."

He took a step towards me as if in anger, but he stopped suddenly, and then I saw a change come over his face. The old cunning leer came back to his eyes again, the wine-inflamed, passionate man had gone, and instead I saw the cynical mocking man I had seen land at Dover.

He sat down on a low chair, and began to fondle his lap-dog, glancing at us both curiously as he did so.

"I am indeed fortunate," he said. "Mostly my servants say they will obey me, and then seek to have their own will, while you say you will not obey me and will have to do so in spite of all. Moreover, this youth said he had no favour to ask at my hands. Well, and what game are you playing, young master?"

"I am trying to be an honest man," I replied.

"Prithee come a little closer, for surely thou art a rare sight," he said. "For twelve years I have been trying to find an honest man and a virtuous woman, and up to now I have discovered neither."

"And yet your mother is alive, sire," I said.

Again his eyes flashed fire, and I thought he was going to call his servants, and order that I should be thrown in some dungeon. But again he mastered himself.

"I have not made up my mind whether I shall give you the cap and bells, or send you to the most stinking dungeon in Fleet Prison, Master Rashcliffe," he said quietly. "But of that anon; at present I am vastly enjoying myself. There is some reason in your mind which makes you think you can answer your king as you have answered him. You fancy you have some secret power over him. Come now, speak!"

"That need not be Your Majesty. I was ever taught that a man's duty was to protect a woman."

Again he eyed me keenly, and presently he laughed quietly.

"Ah, I see," he said; "now I understand. You have cast eyes on this pretty Constance, and seek to gain her favour by this means. I thought I should discover your motive. What! she hath looked coldly on you, eh, and now you seek to win her favour. Ay, and what more likely to do this than to stand by her in her difficulty! Is a man likely to do aught but for self? Tell me, do you expect to win the fair Constance's love?"