Rebels and Traitors (64 page)

Life, however, was better than she had ever known before. Perhaps qualms made her suspect she was only playing at house, yet Juliana knew how to savour even a situation she distrusted. Since she married five years before, she had been accustomed to insecurity. Now here they were, all alive and together. She took what she could. Even to be wrangling with her husband over whether carrots should be glazed with parsley butter was a joy, infinitely preferable to wondering which battle he was in and whether he was dead or wounded. All the same, she wondered if she must spend the rest of her days feeling that every place they lived in was just a temporary stop on the way to a remote destination they would never reach.

Juliana was curious about how her husband had discovered Sir Lysander Pelham, and why Pelham had taken him up. She could not quite square the tale that Orlando was acting as an estate manager -when there must be plenty of men in the countryside who were better qualified. Sir Lysander certainly liked to share a drink with Orlando in the evening and would sometimes summon him to the hall for that purpose — a source of contention when Orlando came home the worse for wear. Juliana said little, because they needed the patronage.

Other men visited the hall, presumably friends of Sir Lysander. Juliana never met them.

Finding an occupation posed a problem for her husband. He was not suited to endure penurious exile at the royal court in Paris. There would be no pay, he spoke no French, and hanging about a cold château on the fringes of Queen Henrietta’s retinue would be as boring for him as for his wife, assuming she went with him — which was never discussed. A professional soldier all his life, either Orlando now must find himself a new war, or he must buckle down to a civilian occupation, untrained and inexperienced. That he had fallen into this niche at Pelham Hall was as lucky as it was surprising — all the more so since England was awash with disbanded and retired soldiers, all desperate for employment. All claimed to be obedient to discipline, good at man-management, trained in horse-husbandry loyal, hardened, healthy and, naturally, expert shots. Once the New Model Army was disbanded, this could only grow worse. Sussex was a Parliamentarian county and would have many returning soldiers.

In truth Sir Lysander seemed almost fonder of Juliana than Orlando. He was a kindly man and an appreciator of women. Telling her about Hercules and Ioleus, the bullock lovers, occurred because he could see Juliana had more sense of humour than her husband and indeed enjoyed curiosities, unlike the rather straight Orlando. Orlando thought himself a lively fellow with a racy past, but Juliana was more observant and had a better ear for an anecdote. If she baked an almond tart, Sir Lysander would willingly discuss its finer points with her. If one of her boys had a chill, he suggested remedies. He took her on walks, showing her how to identify edible plants and mushrooms. She rapidly learned on those walks not to dally to be helped through gates or over stiles, lest she be pinned to them and forced to notice a virile erection that advertised why English knights of the shire generally had long pedigrees. Juliana was taller than the knight and had faster legs, should running for home become necessary. But it never really came to that. She was never afraid of him.

He knew that she read. Orlando had always boasted that his Juliana was a great reader. She thought of herself more as a needlewoman, but her father had taught her a love of books. Sir Lysander presented her with his late wife’s book of recipes and household management. ‘Well, it will save Bessy and Susannah tearing it in half He then brought her a First Folio Shakespeare one day, simply because he thought she would enjoy it. ‘A gift.’ He shrugged. ‘I never look at it, but you will gain pleasure from it.’

She did. In particular, she discovered Shakespearean heroines: their wisdom, wit, grounded good sense and intrepid bravery, their love for men in all their mastery, mystery and folly. Had he noticed, Orlando Lovell might have thought it ominous that Juliana admired Viola, Rosalind and Harry Hotspur’s rumbustious wife, Kate Percy. The ladies in cavalier love lyrics were lofty objects of devotion, yet they were praised more for their clothes, especially fine silks and lawns that lay awry as if tumbled by lovers, than for their readiness to climb into britches, taunt men and take on fate. In the civil war, even the doughty matrons who defended castles were seen as handy to have, in order to preserve an absent husband’s home, yet unnatural.

Like many extremely conservative men, once Sir Lysander Pelham found a girl he suspected was equal to anything, he soon developed an affectionate twinkle. He was even struck by Juliana’s ability to tolerate and handle the sometimes tricky Orlando Lovell. Sir Lysander never commented on that; he was a gentleman, except in the vicinity of gates or stiles, where he believed a countryman had a blanket exemption from the rules of etiquette.

Eventually Juliana found out why her husband had been brought here. Orlando Lovell and Sir Lysander Pelham were in deep conspiracy.

Juliana had become aware, almost subconsciously, that although the King’s cause was waning, loyal supporters still worked tirelessly for him. Some of his private circle stayed close. After leaving Oxford, Sir John Ashburnham accompanied the fugitive King on his wanderings and his journey to the Scottish camp. When the New Model Army took possession of the King, they treated Charles respectfully and allowed him whichever royal servants he pleased; Ashburnham resumed attendance on his master at Hampton Court. Two other men assisted the King’s flight. Sir John Berkeley was a great favourite of Queen Henrietta Maria and had been intermediary with Parliament. The third courtier, the most effective, was William Legge.

‘Honest Will’ was a close friend and confidant of Prince Rupert. He had played an energetic part in Royalist activities in Oxford and, despite the King’s fury after Rupert’s surrender of Bristol, Legge was quickly reinstated in favour. Parliament had allowed him to join the King at Holdenby House as Groom of the Bedchamber. At Oxford, Legge had lodged in one of the largest houses in St Aldate’s, near the royal court and only a few doors away from the McIlwaines. Will Legge was known by sight to the Lovells. And as Juliana finally realised, Orlando Lovell must be known to him.

She began to understand what was going on in late November 1647. It was the evening of Tom’s fourth birthday. Plans had been laid to cook pancakes, a great favourite with the little boy. Juliana had prepared batter, oranges and sugar, she was ready to heat up the frying pan and only waiting for her husband to join in the little celebration. At the crucial moment Orlando disappeared.

Tom was waiting, his face eagerly alight, though his lip was beginning to tremble on the verge of tears. As her child visibly prepared himself for the collapse of his birthday, Juliana grieved for the effect civil war had imposed on him. Tom was not surprised this had happened. A four-year-old should never be so ready for disappointment.

She discovered Orlando had gone to Pelham Hall. For once, she lost her temper. She stormed off there herself. She burst in on Lovell and Sir Lysander, ready to berate them like a sectarian zealot for their fecklessness and cruelty in arranging what she presumed was a drinking spree. Orlando was lucky she had not brought the heavy pancake pan to beat in his brains.

Curiously, there was no sack in sight. It gave Juliana pause. The two men were sitting together in the library: sober, serious, intent upon a letter. Lovell was reading it out aloud, because the knight’s eyesight was poor even with spectacles. They sat either side of the fire, leaning forward intently on their carved, cane-backed chairs as they spoke in low voices. Lovell seemed to be consulting a cipher sheet.

His instant reaction was to push all the papers into his coat pocket. Then, for some reason, both men decided to include Juliana. Perhaps they simply could not bear to break off at that moment. Clearly there were secrets afoot, and possibly they could not remember how much or how little they had revealed before.

Lovell swiftly motioned her to sit. Thoroughly intrigued, Juliana dropped into a chair. She smoothed her skirts and glared at him. He muttered that they had a letter about the King; when she looked puzzled, he mentioned Will Legge. Whether Legge himself wrote this letter was never explained.

Juliana listened in amazement as she was told about the King’s escape from Hampton Court. Using his sickly young daughter Elizabeth for cover, he had requested that his guards be moved further from his chamber, because the trampings of their heavy boots disturbed the child at night. Astoundingly his jailors had agreed. Apparently the New Model Army’s fighting hearts are tender towards pale, fair-haired little princesses!’

‘That would be generous.’ Juliana’s mind was in turmoil. She was trying to grasp just what her husband’s role was.

‘Generous incompetence!’ snarled Lovell.

Since it had been suggested that King Charles should try to find refuge in Essex, where Royalist support remained strong, in his wilful way he decided to make instead for the island of Jersey, in the opposite direction. Sir Lysander explained to Juliana, ‘Ashburnham had also mentioned Sir John Oglander’s house in the Isle of Wight. There the King could be concealed while the governor of the island was sounded out. If he was not sympathetic, our fugitive could take ship for France — although Ashburnham felt this might dismay supporters and encourage the enemy … But the Isle of Wight it is, and Lovell and I are sorry for it.’

With Will Legge, the King slipped away from Hampton Court, down a backstair and through the palace gardens. Arrangements began well; at Thames Ditton, a boat was waiting to row the escapees across the river. Ashburnham and Berkeley stood ready on the far bank with horses. The party galloped away in the night. No pursuit followed. Colonel Whalley, who had been in charge of the King, noticed that the bedchamber seemed too quiet, but its door was locked so the agitated Whalley strode through countless other rooms in the rambling old Tudor palace before he managed to reach the royal quarters and discovered the King had gone. Only a discarded cloak and the King’s pet greyhound, whimpering pathetically, remained.

‘But from then on,’ growled Lovell to Juliana, a monkey could have arranged things better. They lost themselves for hours in Windsor Forest and took the wrong route past Farnham. At Bishop’s Sutton they reached an inn where a servant was waiting with a change of horses — he came out to tell them that the local Parliamentarians were using the inn as a meeting place that night —’

‘Debating the future of the monarchy?’ Juliana scoffed. Her male companions bristled, then became sheepish. She forced herself to calm down. ‘There is worse?’

A debacle,’ Lovell confessed. ‘They made for the coast, where Ashburnham had allegedly arranged a ship for Jersey. They were so late, in the dark he could not find the ship. They panicked. The King was dumped —’

Sir Lysander grunted a protest.

‘There were search parties out, and all the ports had been closed,’ snarled Lovell, whose high opinion of himself as an organiser made him doubly scathing of this dangerous mess. ‘His Majesty was
deposited
at a house of the Earl of Southampton at Titchfield, this side of the Solent. I can hardly speak the next damned wickedness. That poltroon Berkeley goes across to the Isle of Wight, where the governor is a certain Hammond. The courtiers have convinced themselves Hammond will be sympathetic — why in the name of God, should they think that? Hammond is John Hampden’s cousin, fought under Essex, a fixed Cromwellian, a rabid puritan!’

‘Calm yourself!’ murmured Sir Lysander ineffectually.

‘The ludicrous Berkeley excels himself. He blurts out to Hammond that he has somebody special secreted at the earl’s house.
“Oh Governor Hammond! You will never guess who is nearby!”
Hammond not only guesses, he gallops straight to the house —’

‘With soldiers?’ asked Juliana.

‘Of course! He swiftly took the King into custody. Whipped him across to Cowes and installed him in Carisbrooke Castle, which lies right in the heart of the island, terrifically defended. Even if His Majesty ever escapes the castle, he cannot get off the Isle of Wight. Anyone who tries to come to him will be spied upon as they make the crossing. Oh imagine how fast messengers rode to inform Parliament of this triumph!’

Juliana had rarely heard Orlando so angry. His voice squeaked like an old gate, hoarse with frustration. She could see the implications: ‘At Hampton Court, confinement was comparatively civilised, but now the King will be securely barred up.’ She gave Sir Lysander and Orlando a straight look. Ashburnham, Berkeley and Legge … And are
others
working for His Majesty?’

‘It is best you do not know,’ Sir Lysander told her with a kindly manner. She found it patronising. He could probably tell.

‘Can I not be trusted?’

‘Nobody can be trusted, sweetheart,’ declared Orlando. Juliana froze him with a look. As soon as Colonel Hammond was brought to Titchfield, the King knew it was a fatal mistake — “Ah Jack, you have undone me!” he cried.’ Lovell was skimming through the last sentences of their letter. ‘He was dealing with idiots. Oh, listen! Ashburnham had a bright idea to put all to rights — he only offered to go downstairs to where Hammond was being given supper, and kill him! The King refused to countenance the deed.’