Virgin Earth. Philippa Gregory
shook his head. ‘This morning I was taking leave of my wife in my stable yard at Lambeth,’ he said. ‘I hardly know where I am, let alone what is to become of the king and the queen and their kingdoms.’
‘Well I bet you they run for it,’ the young man said cheerfully. ‘And good riddance,’ he added under his breath, and then snapped his fingers at his dog and left the hall.
It was a long, cold journey to Dover; the royal family were muffled up inside the coach but John was standing in the footman’s place behind, holding on to the strap. By the time the coach rumbled in to Dover castle John was clinging on with fingers that were blue, his eyes running with tears from the cold wind in his face, every bone in his face aching as if he had an ague. From his place on the back of the coach he had heard, over the rumble of the wheels, the queen steadily complaining, all the way down the long frosty roads.
They slept that night in Dover castle, in better comfort; and then lingered undecided for a week. First they were waiting for news, then deciding to sail to France, missing the tide, changing their minds, waiting for more news. Courtiers slowly reassembled from the rout of London, noblemen were recalled from their country seats. Everyone had different advice, everyone was listened to with kingly courtesy, no-one could agree, no-one could act. Eleven-year-old Princess Mary, setting sail to live with her bridegroom in Holland, joined them during the week that they hesitated, havering between one choice and another, and found that the queen, her mother, was very bitter with her daughter for marrying a Protestant and leaving the family in such distress. Princess Mary made no undutiful replies to her mother, but sulked in eloquent silence.
A couple of heavy bags arrived at dawn from the Tower of London and John assumed, but did not ask, from the dour expression of the guard who never let them out of his sight, that the king was sending the country’s treasure overseas with his wife and that once again the most precious stones in England would be hawked around the moneylenders in Europe.
The king and queen finally came to a decision to separate. Princess Mary was bound for Holland in one ship, the queen and the three babies were to set sail for France in another: the Lion. The two princes – Charles and James – and the king were to stay in England and find a solution to the demands of Parliament. John and the other attendants waited at a distance on the quayside as the royal couple forced themselves to the brink of parting. The king held both her hands and kissed them tenderly.
‘You will not yield one inch to them,’ the queen said, her voice demanding and penetrating so that every man on the quayside could hear how the king of England was hag-ridden. ‘You will not make one concession. They must be brought to heel. They must know their master. You will not even speak with them without keeping me informed.’
Charles kissed her hands again. ‘No,’ he promised. ‘M … My love, my dear love. I will not have a m … moment when I do not think of you.’
‘Then think that I will never be able to come back until the traitor Pym is executed for treason,’ she said fiercely. ‘And think of your son and his inheritance which must be passed to him entire. And I shall raise such an army in Europe that if they will not agree they will be destroyed! So make no concessions, Charles, I will not permit it!’
‘My dear, d … dear love,’ he said quietly.
He raised his head from her hands and she kissed him full on the mouth as if to pledge him to an oath.
‘Don’t forget!’ she said passionately. ‘We have lost too much already by your weakness! Not one concession without my agreement. You must tell them that they will have to concede to us: Church, army, and Parliament. I am a queen, not a market trader to huckster over the price. Not one concession.’
‘God speed, m … my love,’ he said tenderly.
She smiled at him at last. ‘God bless you,’ she said. Without thinking of the effect it would have on the king’s waiting servants, she made the sign of the cross, the dreadful Papist gesture, over his head; and Charles bowed his head beneath the sign of the Anti-Christ.
Henrietta Maria picked up her full silk skirts and went carefully up the gangplank to the sailing ship. ‘And don’t forget,’ she called, raising her voice from the ship. ‘No concessions!’
‘No, my love,’ the king said sadly. ‘I would d … die rather than disappoint you.’
The ship moved away from the quayside and the king called for his horse. He mounted and rode alone, up the steep cliffs behind the little town, keeping the queen’s sail in sight, riding and waving his hat to her until the little ship was vanished into the pale mist lying sluggishly on the waves, and there was nothing for God’s anointed monarch to do but ride slowly and sadly back to Dover castle and write to his wife promising that he would always do whatever she thought best.
John subtracted himself carefully from the men who surrounded the king as they returned to break their fast in Dover castle. He ordered a horse from the tavern, and when he was ready to leave went to seek the king.
‘With Your Majesty’s permission I will go to my home,’ he said carefully. He saw at a glance that the king was in one of his moods of high drama. John did not want to be the audience to one of the tragic speeches. ‘I promised my wife I would only be away a matter of hours, and that was weeks ago. I must return.’
The king nodded. ‘You may travel w … with me for I am going to London.’
‘Back to the City?’ John was astounded.
‘I shall see. I shall see. Perhaps it is n … not too late. Perhaps we can agree. The queen would be pleased, d … don’t you think, if my next letter to her came from my palace at Whitehall?’
‘I am sure everyone would be pleased if you could reclaim your palace by agreement,’ John said carefully.
‘Or I could go to B … Bristol,’ the king said. ‘Or north?’
John bowed. ‘I shall pray for Your Majesty.’
‘I hope you will do … do more than that. I hope you will be with me.’
There was an awkward silence. ‘In these troubled times …’ John began.
‘In these troubled times a man must bid farewell to his wife and then do his duty,’ the king said flatly. ‘P … Painful duty. As I have done.’
John bowed.
‘You may go and bid her farewell and then j … join me.’
John bowed again, thinking rapidly of how he could escape from this service. ‘I am only a gardener,’ he said. ‘I doubt that I can assist Your Majesty better than by keeping your palaces in beauty. And when the queen returns I would want her to have a pretty garden to greet her.’
The king softened at that, but he had the needy anxiety of a man who hates to be left alone. The loss of the queen made him cling to anyone, and John’s presence was a reassuring reminder of the days of gardens and masques and royal progresses and loyal speeches. ‘You shall s … stay with me,’ he said. ‘I shall send you back to the garden when I have more men about me. In the meantime you shall write your f … farewell to your wife and join me. I am separated from my wife – you would not w … wish to be more happy than your king?’
Tradescant could see no escape. ‘Of course not, Your Majesty.’
He sent Hester a note before they left Dover.
Dear Hester,
I am commanded by His Majesty to stay with him until he takes up his new quarters, wherever they may be. We are travelling northwards at present and I will return home as soon as I am permitted, and write to you if not. Please keep my children and rarities safe. And preserve your own safety. If you think it best, you may store the rarities in the place you know, and take the children to Oatlands. These are troubled times and I cannot advise you at this distance. I wish I were with you. If I were free from my duty to my king,