Rebels and Traitors (83 page)

‘So the prince took us off, to our great relief. We drifted north to Yarmouth, which might have been taken but for loss of resolution -then we drifted south back to the Downs, where we might have destroyed the Parliamentary fleet but for a storm. Prince Rupert advised an attack on the Isle of Wight to carry off the King, who was then still there. But Rupert was talked down by doubters, so we ended up in Holland. We were pursued by the Parliamentary navy, which bottled up our ships in port until this January’

The exiled court moved to Holland.’ Juliana had read it in a news-sheet.

’The Hague. The new King stays there while he assesses who will help him to regain the kingdom.’

‘Edmund, do not refer to him as “the new King” while you are in England.’

‘Damme —’

Juliana held up her hand firmly. ‘Do not.’

Edmund, whose views had always been straightforward to the point of naïveté, resisted angrily. ‘Are you a Commonwealther?’

‘I choose to live a quiet life — in safety! Finish telling me about Orlando.’

‘He
won’t accept this treason.’

‘He will if he comes here. He will have to. Go on, I say’

With a snort, Edmund continued. ‘Prince Rupert took charge of the fleet. There was no money for fitting out and he had to put down mutinies; he suspended one ringleader over the side of the ship until the man capitulated … He bargained with merchants, raised credit on his mother’s jewels, and plucked funds out of nowhere, as energetic and inspired as always. He and Prince Maurice found no attraction in the Prince of Wales’s hopes for a Scottish alliance — Rupert is friendly with the Marquis of Montrose; he hates the Presbyterian Kirk.’

‘So he found another way to use his energies?’ Juliana asked.

‘Ireland. The Marquis of Ormond has invited the young King to join him. Rupert and Maurice sailed with six warships and some lesser vessels to Kinsale. They have been raiding Commonwealth ships in the English Channel.’

‘Indeed!’ Juliana smiled ruefully. ‘I read that they are so successful, marine insurance rates in London have increased by four hundred per cent!’ Edmund laughed briefly. Juliana caught a nuance: ‘Does this affect us?’

‘Lovell went to sea with them.’

‘He despises Prince Rupert.’

‘He attached himself to Prince Maurice. They left in January, before we all knew, or could even believe, that the King would be executed.’

‘So what of you, Edmund?’

‘My mother is gravely ill; I am needed here.’

‘Is your return dangerous?’ Juliana was thinking of Parliament’s measures against Delinquents.

‘I have to take my chance.’

There was a pause, while Juliana thought about her own position. ‘So now my heroic husband is a pirate at sea! Aye, and who knows when or where he may make land again.’

‘Orlando wrote to you,’ Edmund earnestly assured her. ‘The letter must have gone astray’

Juliana conceded that Lovell would not have known where she was, once she left Pelham Hall. She did not altogether trust Bessy and Susannah to redirect correspondence. Even if they would co-operate, there were many possible mishaps, from letters being dropped in the mud by careless carriers to Parliamentary spies seizing and opening suspect packets.

By now she felt certain that Edmund was obsessed by some dark trouble. As if satisfied with their discussion, she led him out of doors and walked him around her orchard. Chattering about the age and poor yield of her apple, pear and cherry trees, she enjoyed the long summer evening. The sky was still blue, a few bats flitted over an old pond, the countryside was peaceful, she had recovered an old friend &hellips;

They seated themselves on a mouldering wooden bench. Juliana spent all their time there in terror that this decayed rustic seat would collapse beneath them. She kept silent because the subject of their conversation changed abruptly — to one she could never have foreseen.

‘You are strangely quiet. Has something gone wrong, Edmund?’

‘Have you heard,’ Edmund asked her slowly, ‘of a man named Isaac Dorislaus?’

Because she read so many news-sheets, Juliana had. Dr Dorislaus was a Dutch lawyer and historian who had lived in England for many years. His academic interest was kingship, his thesis that regal authority had in ancient times been assigned to monarchs by the people, so that kings who abused their position were tyrants, from whom the rulership could be removed. This view had not won the doctor any favours during the early years of King Charles’s personal rule, so his university career had foundered. After struggling in legal advocacy, he had supported Parliament, for whom he investigated Royalist plots and conducted diplomatic missions to the Netherlands. At the King’s trial, he was one of the prosecuting counsels and although he did not speak, he had intended to do so if Charles had ever acknowledged the court and answered the charges.

What Juliana did not know was that after the King’s execution Isaac Dorislaus was asked to perform a diplomatic mission for the new Council of State. He travelled to The Hague as a special envoy. His mission was to seek peace and reconciliation. Given that the princes of Orange had close marriage ties to the Stuart family, that they were giving the Prince of Wales refuge at their court, and that their ambassadors had besieged Parliament and Fairfax with pleas for the King’s life, to send one of the King’s prosecutors to Holland might seem ill-judged. However, Dorislaus had been a diplomat before, Holland was his country of birth, and he spoke the language.

What is he to you, my dear?’

The envoy died, Juley, the very night he first set foot in Holland.’

‘Died?’

‘Killed.’ Juliana stared. Edmund leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. ‘Killed at his inn, as he sat down for supper.’

Juliana spoke slowly: ‘You know more about this, Edmund?’ He remained silent, but she saw he must have been involved. ‘You should tell me,’ Juliana urged him. ‘I can see you are affected. Were you there? Did you see? What happened to this man?’

Shaking his head, Edmund brought out the story: ‘There are Royalists swarming everywhere in Holland, you understand. We were all outraged by the late King’s martyrdom. To send Dorislaus was madness. About a dozen men, fully armoured, went to him that night.’

Was this ordered officially?’ prompted Juliana.

‘I cannot tell you.’

‘But you know!’

‘Do not ask me &hellips; They entered the inn; the woman of the house cried out “Murder!” The man’s servants closed his chamber door and held it, but they burst in. Doctor Dorislaus sat in his chair, facing the door, with his arms folded. He just seemed to be waiting &hellips; He was stabbed several times, his skull fractured, his heart and liver punctured, then his throat was cut — and all the time he never moved position. “Thus dies one of the King’s judges!” cried the King’s avengers, then they rode away.’

‘He was a civilian. He was an
ambassador
!
’
Shocked, Juliana phrased her next question with care: Is it publicly known who did this?’

‘No. The States General expressed horror, but may not want to identify the killers.’ Edmund paused. ‘Luckily!’ he added, with feeling.

Juliana sat still, thoroughly disconcerted. She could see how the murder had happened, and why — but she could not approve of it. Edmund half turned to her. She was astonished to see tears on his face. ‘I have seen terrible sights, Juley I have done things that I can never tell you. This is what we have come to. Fighting is cruel. Men are hardened and brutalised. In this civil war we have learned to accept unholy occurrences, robberies and rapes and bloodshed &hellips; Now prisoners are executed, civilians are punished as if they were soldiers — do you know, the uprising here in Kent was fuelled by anger, simply when ordinary people rioted because the Mayor of Canterbury tried to abolish Christmas &hellips; The fighting at Maidstone was more vicious than ever. Then came the martyrdoms of Lucas and Lisle at Colchester. Then the King &hellips;’

Edmund fell silent, his face set. Juliana eventually murmured, ‘You speak as if you were morally degenerate, but, dear man, if that were true you would not be so racked with conscience.’

Edmund hardly seemed aware of her. ‘There was something ghastly about the death of a man in his fifties, a scholar on a courtly mission, tired by travel, eating his dinner in the presence of servants — herrings, shredded Dutch cabbage — a linen napkin tucked about his neck &hellips;’

His regret was dreadful to see. Juliana imagined the event — cavaliers, footloose and idle in Holland, frustrated by the news of the King’s execution, encouraged by the Prince of Wales or those around him. News coming that Dr Dorislaus had landed as Parliament’s ambassador. There would be a certain degree of pomp in his arrival; he represented a sovereign state. His disembarkation must have caused a flurry People may have been on the lookout. Certainly word of his landing reached hard men who wanted retribution, men who welcomed a chance for derring-do. Juliana envisaged them riding rapidly to the inn. At the beginning of May, the evening would be light. Twelve on a noisy gallop would be exhilarated. The need for secrecy the ritual bloodshed, the snatching of drink — for it took place in an inn, and Dutch drinking was notorious — then the wild, whooping ride away &hellips;

Afterwards, one of them was blasted by conscience.

Juliana was surprised how little shock she felt that Edmund Treves took part. It pained her that he had sunk so far from his nobler nature; he was experienced enough to have refused. She even wondered whether Orlando’s departure with the fleet had left him vulnerable. Lovell had always seemed to be a bad influence — though when it came to it, he had often been there as Edmund’s saviour.

She grieved for her friend. Edmund turned away from her, hiding his head, and wept openly. Juliana laid her arm gently across his back to comfort him.

She gazed up, into the deep indigo of midsummer twilight, lost in her own melancholy thoughts.

Parliament retrieved the body of Dr Dorislaus and gave him a state funeral in Westminster Abbey.

The States General investigations were thought by the English to be cursory and ineffective; certainly no culprits were brought to justice. Various suspects were touted. Scots supporters of the Marquis of Montrose, perhaps. Montrose was appointed to negotiate with European states in the new King’s name; he had sworn his loathing for those who killed Charles I and had threatened to write an epitaph in blood. Colonel Walter Whitford, a bishop’s son, and Sir John Spottiswood were implicated. Sir Henry Bard, later Viscount Bellemount, was arrested but released. Montrose and also Lord Hopton were questioned. Later it seemed that others had organised the deed, with the new King’s connivance. The murder became notorious and continued to rankle with the Commonwealth, being one of the excuses for trade wars with Holland. When other Parliamentary ambassadors were threatened or killed in foreign countries, it began to look like a campaign, not a spur-of-the-moment action by rogue cavaliers but a concerted plot that was approved by and directly linked to Charles II.

Juliana Lovell kept Edmund Treves’s confidence. As far as she knew, he never spoke about Dorislaus to anyone again. Certainly she had warned him not to. Once he had unburdened himself that evening, his spirits visibly lifted. He returned to good humour, although the image of Dorislaus, sprawled on the inn table among his vinegar-soused herrings, would trouble Juliana herself for a long time.

The danger in which Edmund put himself by returning to England became clear, especially in Kent. Walter Breame, a Kentish cavalier, was arrested that month and sent to the Tower for possessing letters which referred to the ambassador’s death. Ferdinand Storey was imprisoned in the Gatehouse the following year. There was a hue and cry for Captain Francis Murfield, who had been heard supporting the murder. A Captain Norwood was ordered to pay a bond of five hundred pounds a year to the Sheriff of Kent, against future good behaviour &hellips;

During Edmund’s visit, there were more immediate concerns: he was travelling without a permit. Juliana knew this was far too dangerous. She herself would only risk it where she could claim to be going about ordinary business if soldiers stopped her; Royalists not allowed to travel beyond a five-mile radius of their homes.

Edmund was intending to throw himself upon the mercy of an uncle in London who had supported Parliament throughout the war. ‘Merry Uncle Foulke; you will find him exceedingly pleasant’. Leaving Edmund to stay out of sight at her house, Juliana took a letter to the man, a member of the Merchant Taylors Company and brother of Edmund’s ailing mother; he knew how urgently Alice Treves longed to see her ‘dearest Ned’ before she died.

The reception was friendly; promises were made for Edmund. Juliana was less taken with his uncle than her eager friend had foretold, but she found Foulke Adams apparently sympathetic to his Royalist nephew. He claimed numerous contacts who would ease Edmund’s compounding and pardon, then help him obtain a pass to go to Staffordshire. It proved correct. Foulke Adams rode out to Lewisham in person, flourishing paperwork. He took Edmund away with him, then some time later Edmund wrote to say that he had satisfied the relevant committees, and was leaving straight for home.