The King's Chameleon (20 page)

‘He says you know a good craft when you see one, Sir Christopher.'

‘Thank him, and tell him I admired the Dutch yachts that the States General presented to His Majesty King Charles and the Duke of York.'

The exchange took place, then Armerer asked, his face bland, ‘Are you acquainted with the King?'

‘Tell him I am, though I have not made the acquaintance of the Duke of York. Tell him I have been in His Majesty's private service.'

Once again Faulkner waited while this was passed to the old man. ‘Our friend wishes to know if you have anything to do with the scandalous arrest of some other Englishmen in their city.'

‘Tell him no, but I have heard of it and I am anxious to get to England with my family, having been travelling only to get here and find all in turmoil. I require a boat from Delft because it is important that I get to London in order to explain the grave insult now being offered to the Seven United Provinces.'

Armerer passed this on, then turned back to Faulkner. ‘D'you mean to tell the King himself?'

Faulkner nodded emphatically. ‘It is my duty to inform His Majesty exactly what is going on,' he said, the irony inescapable.

Again Faulkner waited; then Armerer said, ‘That went down well, Sir Christopher. He offered you a roof for tonight, but I pleaded the urgency of your mission.'

‘Then be so kind as to settle the reckoning.'

There followed a haggling which Faulkner affected not to watch, smiling instead at Vrouw Goedhart. He heard the chink of coin and the involuntarily indrawn breath of the old skipper, whose name they learned was Cornelius Bouws. ‘Pray ensure you make it clear that the skipper will receive a personal bonus from me when we reach Harwich,' he loftily ordered Armerer. Old Bouws recognized the word ‘skipper' and pricked up his ears.

‘Of course, Sir Christopher,' Armerer answered with a wry deference. ‘There; all is done,' he added after a few moments of further argument.

Faulkner was aware that the others were all smiling. He smiled too, then said, ‘See to it that the boat is brought to my lodgings beside the Rathaus immediately. I would get my family aboard and under way before the night is upon us.'

‘Of course, Sir Christopher.' Armerer gave a mock bow and passed the instruction.

Mynheer Goedhart chivvied Bouws, and the skipper almost ran out of the house to do the bidding of his twin masters. Faulkner made a courtly bow to the happy couple and withdrew, with Armerer following as a pretty maid let them out of the house and secured the door behind them.

‘You to the
tjalk
,' Faulkner said sharply. ‘The minute she is in the correct spot come directly to me and I shall have all ready. As soon as we leave our house to join her, you to the Steen prison and Sir George.'

‘Very well.' Armerer hurried back to the boat while Faulkner made for the house, re-entering by the rear door. The relief at his return was palpable.

‘We think that you may have been seen leaving here,' he was told by the guard on stand-by. ‘There were some noises in the street and again, knocking on the door. We think they may come back, possibly with a warrant …'

‘Very well. We must move with absolute caution, for we are to go tonight. I will need you two until our prisoners are secured on board a vessel which I have hired. We will embark near the Rathaus. Do you know where that is?' The Anglo-Dutch officer nodded. ‘Good. I need now to talk to them and gull them if necessary. I will relieve your companion while you brief him and make yourselves ready. Understood?'

‘Yes, of course.'

Once Faulkner was alone in the room he addressed Judith and Henry. ‘In a moment I am going to knock off your leg-irons. You will both get up and walk slowly round and round the room to restore yourselves. In a little while we shall leave this place and go aboard a small vessel on our way to England. Hold your tongue, Henry, at least while you still command it yourself.'

Judith gave a huge sob. ‘Husband …' she began in a tone of miserable contrition.

‘Be quiet! Listen to what I have to say. I can save your mother's life, Henry, of that I am sure, for the King wants no revenge upon a woman. As for you, despite the charge of High Treason at your arrest I am convinced that the King, in his mercy, may well be pleased to spare you upon the rightful pleading of your father. The King is obligated to me, the manner of which is private but to be relied upon. If you value your life, you must trust me on this, and I must needs trust both of you to accompany me in your rightful condition as my wife and son when we embark. Everything is contingent on this;
everything
. If either one or both of you think to raise the alarm, you will feel the point of my dagger.'

He had been walking round and round, alternately catching the eye of each of them, impressing upon them the desperate sincerity of his plan.

‘Now, should we be apprehended, this is what you must remember. We are returned from Hamburg and are on our way to Helvoetsluys to take passage to Harwich. I heard of the arrests of Englishmen and, as a former Commonwealth commander, I seek to sail directly from here in order to remonstrate with the King. That is the story that covers our movement. You may talk in low voices about that as we walk to the boat; nothing else. The minute we are on board you will be confined until we are at sea. Do you both understand?' He looked from one to another. ‘Henry?'

‘Yes.'

‘Judith?'

‘I do.'

‘Believe me,' Faulkner said, moving towards the door, ‘I have undertaken none of this lightly. Its personal cost to me is immense, remember that. Immense. Neither of you have another soul under heaven that you may trust. Do exactly as I say and we may yet win through. Now, when the time comes – and it should not now be long – act with boldness and resolution. Remember our sentiments of righteous indignation; they at least can be Puritan.'

Almost immediately after this confident address, Faulkner was beset by doubts. As he stood silently watching Judith and Henry, their shackles knocked off, first relieve themselves and then stagger round and round the room until their dizziness and unsteadiness had passed, he felt the cold grip of terror seize him. The risk they ran was breath-taking; at any moment the watch, armed with a warrant from the Bailiff, could break down the door and apprehend them. The forthcoming walk through the street would be after curfew, and while they might plead their English nationality and offer a bribe or two, nothing could be relied upon. And at the bottom of his anxiety lay his real fear – could he trust Judith and Henry?

The call took longer to come than he had imagined, until he considered, realistically, the task of moving the
tjalk
under her sweeps to the waterside of the Rathaus. It was about eight of the clock when Armerer's cautious tap-tap could be heard on the rear door.

‘All is ready,' he said simply.

To Faulkner's astonishment and relief their progress through the darkened streets went unchallenged. The night was cloudy, rain threatened and a brisk wind funnelled down the narrow alleyways so that he was unclear of its direction and had no idea of his bearings. He was equally relieved that neither Judith nor Henry disobeyed him. Four days of enforced silence and immobility seemed to have conditioned them in some way, robbed them of independence and stunned their initiative. They had been kept well-fed and adequately watered, but Faulkner's strictures on silence had been enforced ruthlessly. Consequently, they did not even attempt to feign any discussion as they were hastened along. One of the two officers preceded them, leading the way, the other followed, walking immediately behind Henry. Faulkner marched just ahead of his son, his left arm tightly linked with his wife's right and his pace such that she, only recently liberated from her hobbled state, could scarcely keep up. Armerer had, in accordance with his instructions, returned immediately to Downing at the Rathaus.

The officer leading them acted faultlessly, and they did not have far to go. Faulkner caught sight of the huge towering spire of a church and a glimpse down a side-street of the open space of a market-square. He assumed the Rathaus must lie somewhere close, central, complimentary to the great church. They turned a corner, and he smelt water. The canal was narrow but the pale streak of it opened up the road home and his heart leapt at the prospect. Although still consumed by anxiety, Faulkner felt that at least the first hurdle had been jumped when he came in sight of the
tjalk
. Bouws had lowered her mast to pass under a bridge and had moored her as close to the Rathaus as possible.

They hastened aboard, and Faulkner had to remind himself of the fiction of their voyage. Bouws grunted a courteous greeting and led them aft, to the cabin which he had vacated under the terms of the charter. Faulkner bundled his entourage below, the two officers standing on deck as their prisoners left the deck. Faulkner followed and cast a quick look round the cabin. It was cosily domestic, the brass lamp glowing warmly, and in other circumstances it would have filled him with delight, but he must now await the arrival of others and hoped they would not be long in coming. ‘Sit down,' he instructed his charges, ‘and remain silent.'

The English officer who had led the way to the canal, and who Faulkner knew simply as Captain Brown, remained on deck, explaining to Bouws that the English gentleman's secretary and three servants should already have been aboard and that they would have to wait for them. Bouws made some reply that a man did not need such an entourage and that he was keen to start since as soon as this escapade was over he had a serious living to make. Captain Brown joshed him that he would make more tonight by cozening up to an English gentleman, such as his passenger was, than in a month of Sundays otherwise. Bouws grunted, spat over the side, lit his pipe and shouted something in Frisian to his men standing by on deck.

To Faulkner waiting below, his eyes on his prisoners, his ears trying to divine what was going on on deck, these were moments of renewed tension. He hated the passivity and the reliance upon others. He heard a shouted exchange; was this Downing and the Regicides, or someone else? It was the night-watch, and Faulkner felt his heart lurch, noticing the sudden change of expression on Judith's face. Henry too had undergone a transformation as the awakening of hope came to him.

‘I'm watching you both,' Faulkner said balefully, his hand on the butt of his wheel-lock. He drew the heavy weapon and cocked it, pointing its brutal muzzle at first Henry and then his wife. ‘Move beside each other,' he said.

On deck the leader of the watchmen was demanding to know what was afoot at this late hour and why Bouws intended moving his
tjalk
after dark. Bouws launched into a complex explanation in which the skipper adopted a sudden change of face, extolling the importance of his mission and the riches and virtues of his passenger. ‘He threw them three guilders to drink to his own health and to be off and leave him to his affairs,' Brown said when he told Faulkner of the incident next morning as they sailed south towards the River Maas. ‘My, 'tis wonderful what may be wrought with a little gold; it was his own money he ventured. At that point I knew you had chosen well!'

Ignorant of all this at the time, Faulkner kept his eyes on his two prisoners. Eventually, the tone of conversation on deck fell away to a desultory exchange of comments between Brown and Bouws. Then, after what seemed an eternity but was in reality no more than three or four minutes, Faulkner heard Brown's voice raised, speaking in English.

‘Come on, damn you, you are keeping His Lordship waiting. He expects his servants to precede him, not lag behind like camp-followers.' Brown switched to Dutch, instructing Bouws to get under way at once, distracting him from noticing anything odd about the new arrivals.

Faulkner heard footfalls on the deck then the knocking sound of hatch-boards being lifted; then came the noise of more steps. It was clear the Regicides were being accommodated in the hold immediately forward of the cosy after-cabin. That would be understandable, though the precipitate manner of their descent might raise suspicions; but the gold – or at least the prospect of it – had done its work. Bouws had cast off and was occupied in the business of getting sweeps out to work astern, out into the main canal. Faulkner felt a gentle movement under his feet and noticed that both Judith and Henry were equally aware that they were under way. They sat thus side by side, confronting Faulkner, the cabin table between them, the barrel of the wheel-lock an accusation of the prisoners' past conduct and an augury of their future fate.

‘You scum,' Judith said quietly.

Faulkner was saved the necessity of a response for, with a thud, the companionway slid open and a pair of muddied boots descended. Sir George Downing came below and stared at Judith and Henry. Without taking his eyes off them he said, ‘Well done, Sir Christopher. Our other friends are trussed in the hold. I shall disembark as we turn the corner into the main canal.' Downing withdrew his right hand from his glove and held it out to Faulkner. ‘Until we meet again,' he said.

Faulkner was watching the effect Downing's arrival had on Judith and Henry. He had no idea whether or not they knew who he was, but his confident presence was tangible evidence that they had been caught by an efficient network from which escape was impossible. He shook Downing's hand, and Downing clambered up on deck. They felt the slight bump as the
tjalk
scraped the canal bank, presumably as Downing disembarked. A moment later they received a second visitor; it was Armerer, and he carried leg-irons.

He too looked at Faulkner's prisoners and slowly expelled his breath. Faulkner felt the easing of tension but dared not drop his own guard. Armerer moved round the table, knelt and snapped the leg-irons on each prisoner in turn, padlocking them securely. Then he sat down alongside Faulkner.

‘Our Anglo-Dutch friends have left with Downing,' he said quite deliberately in front of Judith and Henry, ‘but Sir George has kindly left four of his personal body-servants to act as guards. In an hour or so I shall send one of them down to relieve you. He looks somewhat like an ogre. Now I am going to get something to eat. We have some cold meat and beer with us, and there will be enough for you too. I suggest we leave these people to go hungry for a while. By the way,' he added conversationally, ‘you have chosen a fine little ship, Sir Christopher.'