The Coming of the King

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  THE COMING OF THE KING

  By JOSEPH HOCKING

  _Author of "All Men are Liars" "The Scarlet Woman" "A Flame of Fire"etc., etc._

  ILLUSTRATIONS BY GRENVILLE MANTON

  LONDON: WARD LOCK & CO. LIMITED 1904

  "'My name is Roland Rashcliffe, your Majesty.'" (_Page130._)]

  CONTENTS

  I THE COMING OF KATHARINE HARCOMB 7

  II THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BOX 17

  III THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT 28

  IV THE HAPPENING AT THE INN 39

  V A MIDNIGHT MEETING 49

  VI THE OLD HOUSE AT PYCROFT 59

  VII THE MYSTERY OF PYCROFT 69

  VIII HOW I ENTERED PYCROFT 79

  IX FATHER SOLOMON AT BAY 89

  X THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON 99

  XI THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER 110

  XII THE COMING OF THE KING 121

  XIII AN ADVENTURE ON THE CANTERBURY ROAD 133

  XIV HOW I SAW A MAN WHO BECAME FAMOUS! 142

  XV MASTER STURGEON, THE GAOLER 153

  XVI THE ESCAPE 164

  XVII HOW I LEFT BEDFORD 174

  XVIII JAMES, DUKE OF YORK 185

  XIX THE SCENE AT THE PARISH CHURCH 195

  XX THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON 205

  XXI HOW I VISITED BEDFORD A SECOND TIME 216

  XXII THE CHAPEL OF HERNE 227

  XXIII THE JOURNEY TO WINDSOR 238

  XXIV CHARLES II AS JUDGE 248

  XXV THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING 258

  XXVI FLEET PRISON 268

  XXVII HOW I LEFT FLEET PRISON 278

  XXVIII WHAT HAPPENED ON THE BEDFORD ROAD 288

  XXIX THE PURITAN'S COTTAGE 298

  XXX HOW I LEFT MY OLD HOME 309

  CHAPTER I

  THE COMING OF KATHARINE HARCOMB

  The history which I propose writing will, I believe, be of value forvarious reasons. It will clear my name from various aspersions, and itwill enable me to explain what, to many, seem events of an extraordinarynature. For I have done nothing which makes me fear the light, neitherhave I any desire to offer excuses for the actions which shall be hereset down. What I have done I have done in good faith, knowing all thetime of the probable results which would follow.

  Moreover, I think it is well that many of the happenings of the time ofwhich I write should be recorded, for surely the days of my youth werestrange days, full of intrigue, full of mystery; and more, they weredays in which one of the greatest battles ever known in our country wasfought, a battle which had momentous issues in the life of our people.

  Not that I am able to give a description of many events which tookplace. That would be impossible; but as I was drawn, in spite of myselfas it seems to me, to be an actor in many stirring scenes, I have hadpeculiar opportunities for knowing the truth. In addition to this, I wastrained by my father to follow the custom of the times, and to describein a diary an account of my daily doings. I shall therefore be able, ifever my memory fails me, to refer to the books which have been carefullykept, and thus place a correct account of matters before those whohappen to read.

  I had a peculiar training even for youths of that period. For from thetime of Archbishop Laud to the coming of King Charles II, nearly everyfamily of note took sides in the great struggle through which thenation passed. Either a man was a Royalist or a Parliamentarian, abeliever in the supreme and unquestionable rights of the king, or asupporter of the new order of things. There seemed no half-way housewherein a man might rest. Thus the nation was divided into two greatcamps, and if one was not in one of these camps he was in the other. ButI was trained to hold myself aloof from both, and to distrust themequally.

  The reason for this can be quickly told. During the great strugglebetween Cromwell and the king, my father fought against the IronsideGeneral. Indeed, he gave of his substance freely. He impoverishedhimself to replenish the king's coffers, and he armed his familyretainers in order to keep him on the throne. In the early days of thewar, moreover, he was an enthusiastic supporter of the king, and trustedin his royal words implicitly. But after the Battle of Naseby, when theking's papers were taken, and it was made known that Charles haddeceived on every hand, my father lost faith in him, and declared hewould never trust a king's word again. Not that he threw in his lot withCromwell, thus following the example of many others. Rather he cuthimself adrift from public affairs, and sought to live in seclusion.

  But here a difficulty faced him. His resources were much diminished bywhat he had devoted to the king's cause, and added to this, so much ofhis property was taken from him in the troublous days which followed,that while he still kept the old home near Epping Forest, he was scarceable to maintain it. He was a country gentleman, bearing an old name,who could barely afford to keep the horse he rode, or the servants whowaited at his tables. This (for my father was a very proud man)embittered him much, and caused him to lose faith in friend and foealike. He despised the king who had deceived both his followers andthose who fought against him, and he spoke of the Presbyterians andIndependents as a crack-brained and sour-faced crew, who would make thecountry a place unfit for a gentleman to live in.

  "I trust neither of them, my son," he would often say to me. "I gave myblood and my fortune to the king, and he deceived me by lying promisesand false statements: as for this Puritan crew, they have robbed me ofmy possessions until I, who at the time of the Short Parliament was arich man, have not the means of giving my only son either a good horseto ride, or money to put in his purse."

  "I will gain both, father," I said, for in those days I was ardent andhopeful, believing that everything was possible to a brave heart and astrong arm.

  "But how?" cried my father. "The king's cause is dead, even if it wouldhave benefited thee by fighting for it. As for these canting Puritans,no man can gain aught from them, unless he will quote Scripture, and cry'Down with the Prayer-book.' In truth there is no cause which anhonourable man can espouse, and thus carve his way to fortune."

  "The opportunity will come some day," I replied confidently.

  My father shook his head. "It cannot be," he said. "England is governedby canting hypocrites, and there is not a man in the country whom we cantrust. I tell thee Roland, I am sorely grieved for thee. I have nofortune to give thee, neither are there means whereby a man bearing thename of Rashcliffe can honourably win one. Marriage seems impossible.Not one maid do I know, who would wed a penniless lad like thee; by thatI mean a maid of family and dowry. I am known among men as pennilessRashcliffe, and such a name makes it impossible for my son to make asuitable marriage."

  "But surely there must be means whereby a man may carve his way tofortune?"

  "Tell me about them, Roland. Where can we find them? Those who, like I,have been foolish enough to trust the king
and fight for his cause areleft wellnigh penniless and friendless. We have been deceived, trickedas if by a cunning card-player. I tell you there is no honour amongkings. As for the Puritans, could you play the knave in order to gaintheir favour? Could you mimic their pious whine, and curse both bishopsand Prayer-book?"

  "No, I could not," I replied, for although my father had taught me tohave no faith in men, he still tried to teach me to be an honourablegentleman.

  "I know," he went on, "that many hope for the death of Cromwell. Well,that may happen any day, and then what shall we see? In all probabilityOliver will make provision whereby his son shall take his place. Buteven if he doth not, and Charles were to come back, would such as I bebenefited? Would the new king see to it that my estates were restored tome? The new King Charles would be the son of the old King Charles. Thenew king would be a Stuart, and never again can I trust a Stuart."

  "Is there no hope then?" I asked despondently, for the constantrepetition of such speeches had made me believe that no man was to betrusted.

  "There is no hope except you can get men in your power," replied myfather.

  "In my power?" I repeated, for I scarce knew what he meant.

  "Ay, in your power, Roland. There is a secret in most men's lives. Ifyou can find that secret, you are a force to be reckoned with. You thenhave the means whereby you can fight your way into position. Look here.Charles Stuart is now in France. Supposing Oliver Cromwell were to die,and the people, tired of Puritan rule, were to welcome him back to thekingdom. Do you think he would remember that I, Philip Rashcliffe, amimpoverished by fighting for his father? If I went to him, and said,'Sire, I have scarce a horse to ride on, scarce a crown to put in mypurse; I have lost all through fighting for your father's throne,' doyou think he would cause the Rashcliffe lands to be restored? Nay, hewould say, aloud, 'Master Rashcliffe, we will look into this matter, andyou may trust us to see that justice shall be done;' but to himself hewould say, 'What is there to be gained by doing aught for this man? Heis plain and blunt, and I shall gain nought by troubling about him.Besides, there be a hundred others who come with the same tale. Let meto my wine.' Ay, but if Charles discovered that I knew something whichaffected him deeply, then would he for self-preservation desire to do mejustice."

  "But that would be blackmailing," I cried.

  "Nay, it would not; it would be simply using the means at my disposalfor getting back my own."

  "Know you of aught, that you say this?" I asked, at which my fathershook his head.

  It will be seen from this that I was taught to trust no man or party.Moreover, as the years went by my father influenced me by his owndesponding views, so that I, unlike most youths, felt no ardour for anycause, and believed but little in any man. As to women, I knew nothingof them, for, besides our kitchen wenches and servant maids, scarcely awoman ever entered Rashcliffe Manor. My father desired no company, andeven if he had so desired, he was too poor to give hospitality in a waybefitting his station. As for myself I was too proud to seekacquaintance among those of lower degree than myself, while those of myown rank had, through my father's seclusion, shut their doors againsthis son. Thus I knew nought of women. I believed that, poor as I was, nowoman of name and fortune would deign to notice me, and it was not formy father's son to go unbidden to the houses of those who still retainedtheir wealth.

  Presently Oliver Cromwell died, and I thought my father seemed to bepossessed of new hope; but when Richard, his son, was chosen LordProtector in his place, he simply shrugged his shoulders like aFrenchman, and said that the country was not yet tired of psalm-singing.During the months that followed he went often to London, in order, as hesaid, to find out what Monk and Lambert were doing, and when at lengthRichard Cromwell ceased to be Lord Protector, he grimly remarked that we"should soon see gay doings."

  A little later the whole country was in a state of excitement. Charleswas recalled to England, the Royalists were jubilant, while the Puritanslooked forward with dread to the dark days which they felt sure werenear at hand.

  "We will go to meet the king," cried my father.

  "What!" I cried in astonishment, for my father had declared that hewould never again have aught to do with a Stuart.

  "Ay, we will go and meet him, Roland. You and I will ride together.There are still two good horses left in the stables, and we will dressourselves in a way befitting gentlemen, and we will go to Dover, andshout 'God save the King!' with the rest of the crowd."

  "But why?" I asked, for I felt no love for the man whom the people werealready calling "His Gracious Majesty King Charles II, the Lord'sAnointed One."

  "Ay, and that you shall know before the sun goes down," he replied.

  I looked at him in astonishment, for he had cast off the old look ofhopelessness and indifference so common to him, and seemed to believethat brighter days were coming.

  "Do you believe in the new king?" I asked.

  "I believe a Stuart!" he replied, with scorn. "Nay, not so my son."

  "Men speak of him as a man with an open and generous nature," Isuggested.

  "Ay, and I knew him before he had to fly from the country," he replied."I tell you he is a Stuart. He hath the vices of both his father and hisgrandfather. He will lie and deceive like Charles his father, and hewill turn his Court into a pigsty, like his grandfather James. In sixmonths from now Whitehall will be filled with swashbucklers andwine-bibbers. Bad men and worse women will rule the country. God onlyknows what will become of the Puritans, in spite of his fair promises.But what of that? We will go and meet him!"

  "But you will gain nought."

  "Ay, I will, but there will be much to do first."

  "Much to do!"

  "Ay, much for thee to do, Roland. I have hopes that the Rashcliffe landswill be mine again, and that my son will hold up his head among thehighest."

  "You think you will gain the favour of the king?"

  "Nay, but perchance I may gain his fear."

  "His fear?"

  "Ay, his fear. Or, better still, thou shalt gain his fear."

  "But why should the king fear me? I can do nought against him. I have nopower."

  "Knowledge is power," replied my father.

  "But I have no knowledge."

  "Nay, but thou shalt be in the way to get it before the sun goes down."

  At this I made no reply, but I looked at him in astonishment.

  "I do not speak wildly or foolishly," said my father. "I tell thee againthou shalt know something of importance before the sun goes down. Andnow get on the back of that colt Black Ben, which hath been latelybroken to the saddle, and ride him across the park lands yet left to us.Get accustomed to his step, my boy, for when we meet the king, it is mydesire that King Charles may take note what a fine horseman you are."

  I went to the stables, therefore, and saddled Black Ben, a colt whichhad been a kind of playmate to me, and which had required very littlebreaking in order to allow me to ride him. For however he might treatanother rider, to me he was gentleness itself. I was proud of Black Ben,for he was the first horse I ever possessed on which the neighbours casteyes of envy. Indeed, my father had been offered a good price for him,but although he wanted the money sadly he refused to sell it.

  "No," he said, "thou hast a horse at last, Roland, and thou shalt keepit. I will sell some milch cows before Black Ben shall go."

  He was a large noble animal, as black as the wing of a raven, and freefrom spot or blemish of any sort. I had never tested his speed, but Iknew that there was not a horse between me and London town that I couldnot pass if I gave Black Ben rein.

  He gave me a whinny as he saw me, and presently rubbed his nose againstmy sleeve by way of greeting.

  "You are going to meet the new king, Black Ben, my boy," I said as Ipatted him, and again he whinnied as though he understood me.

  A few minutes later I was flying across the park on Ben's back. I was atthis time nearly twenty-three years of age, and having taken after myfather, was not a light man, but he b
ore me as though I were a feather.

  When I reached the park gates I saw old Adam Winkley, who still lived atthe cottage and called himself the gatekeeper, although there was noneed of his services.

  "Ah, Mester Roland," he said as I came up, "I do 'ear as 'ow the newking is comin'."

  "Ay, so it is said."

  "Well, God bless the king! I be always a king's man, I be. I be noan forOld Nol's crew. Not but what they can fight. Give Old Nol his due, he'vemade the furriners see that the English caan't be bait."

  "We didn't need Old Nol to make them know that," I replied.

  "Well, as to that, Mester Roland, forgive me for not havin' the sameopinion as you; but I fought in the wars with your father, and I shallgo lame to the end of my days because of it, and I know somethin' offightin'. This I knaw, the furinners never feared the English so much asthey did durin' Old Nol's time. Not that I believed in him. I bean't ayoung man, but I still like a carouse I do, and I like good ale, andplenty of it, and I say let people enjoy themselves. And I reckon weshall see a change soon. When young Charles do come, we shall no longerhave these sour-faced Independents rulin' the roost, and so I say with afull heart, God bless King Charles."

  I let the old man talk in this way for old time's sake. He had servedour family all his life, and although others had left during our fallenfortunes, he had remained faithful.

  "And when do the king come, Mester Roland?"

  "Next Tuesday, I have heard, but I am not quite sure."

  "Then I shall start to walk to Dover town on Monday morning, so as to bein time to see him land."

  "Ah, then I shall see you there. Both my father and I are going."

  "I be right glad. I be in hopes that the new king will do your fatherjustice, Master Roland, and that we shall see gay doings at Rashcliffeagain. God save the king, I say."

  At this moment my attention was drawn from old Adam by a woman who waswalking towards my father's house. As far as I could judge she wassomewhat advanced in years, although she walked with a strong sturdystep. She gave a hasty glance in my direction, and then kept her facesteadily towards the house.

  "Know you who that is?" I asked of Adam.

  "No!" replied old Adam; "it can't be she?"

  "Can't be who?"

  "Can't be Katharine Harcomb; and yet she has her walk. But Katharine isdead. I've heard it many a time." This he said as though he were talkingto himself rather than to me.

  "But who is Katharine Harcomb? I never heard her name."

  "No, she left Rashcliffe before you were born, and yet she was maid toyour mother. She was a gay one, was Katharine. What Katharine didn'tknow wasn't worth finding out. Ay, and a handsome maid she was too. Asfor darin', there was nothing she wouldn't do. One day she dressed inyour mother's fine clothes and the other servants didn't know her, shelooked such a grand lady. They all curtsied to her, thinking she wassome visitor who had come unbeknowing to them. Ay, Katharine could actthe lady, she could. Why, it is said the young king fell in love withher when he was Prince Charles, but of that I'll say nothing. Still,this woman can't be she, although she's got her look and her walk.Katharine died years ago--there can be no doubt about that."

  By this time the woman was out of sight, while I turned my horse's facetowards London, and rode a few miles in that direction before returningto the house.

  It was drawing towards evening when I got back, and on entering thehouse I found that my father had given orders that he should be informedof my return.

  "Roland," he said when at length I went to him, "will you come with meinto the library?"

  "Yes," I said, wondering at his grave demeanour.

  When I entered the library I almost gave a start, for in the room wasthe woman I had seen in the park. She looked up at me, and there was, asI thought, a bold and defiant expression in her eyes. She did not looklike a woman of birth and breeding, and yet no one would regard her as acommon serving woman. She possessed an air approaching gentility, andalthough her clothes were much worn, they were of good material.

  "More mother than father," I heard her say.

  I looked at her awkwardly, for I knew not how to address her, andalthough I lifted my hat and bowed as I would to a lady of my owndegree, I did so constrainedly, not feeling comfortable in her presence.

  "This is Mistress Katharine Harcomb," said my father. "She dwelt herebefore you were born."

  The woman gave a laugh, which was half-defiant, half amused.

  "Ay, I dwelt here before you were born, Master Roland; since then I havebeen dead, and now I am alive again."

  I did not like the woman. Not that she was evil-looking; rather, shemust have been very fair to look upon twenty years before, and even nowshe retained much of the beauty of youth. But her voice was harsh, thelines around her mouth suggested scorn and bitterness, while the strongchin should have belonged to a man rather than to a woman. I could seein a moment that she was not a woman to be trifled with; indeed, sheevidently possessed that imperious strength of will like unto that bywhich Queen Elizabeth made strong men quail before her.

  "I pray you to pay good heed to what Mistress Harcomb hath to tell us,"said my father, "for it is no light matter concerning which she wouldspeak."

  I know not why, but my heart became heavy. I felt sure that theknowledge which my father had spoken of as power to bend the will ofkings was somehow associated with this strong imperious looking womanwho gazed steadily into my eyes.