The King's Chameleon (2 page)

Again Gooding temporized. ‘Ever since he dissolved Parliament at the insistence of the Army,' he said, ‘his position has weakened, while the finances of the state leave so much to be desired that it was all but impossible for him to govern …'

‘But who
will
govern us now?' put in Judith. ‘What will happen? The Army … a resumption of civil war? Why has God forsaken us?'

‘No!' Faulkner banged his hand on the table and stood up. He went to the window and stared down into the street, as if the solution were to be found there among the citizens of Wapping as they ran about their daily business. ‘Not God, Judith, not God!'

‘Would you have a King back?' Judith rounded on him, and everyone in the room braced themselves. Despite his distinguished service in the Commonwealth Navy, no-one in that room was insensible of the fact that Captain Kit Faulkner – Sir Christopher, if he wanted to assume the rank and dignity of knighthood conferred upon him by an exiled King-in-waiting – had also served King Charles the Martyr in the late Civil War.

Faulkner turned from the window with a wry grin. ‘Despite your fears and suspicions,' he said slowly, looking round at them all, ‘it is not up to me. I am an Englishman who must do what, at the time, seems right for my country. No man can – or is expected to – do more.' There was a silence; then Faulkner asked, ‘What are the rumours, Henry?'

The young man was still hot with resentment at the implied rebuke to his character and for a moment had no answer.

‘You must have heard something,' prompted his uncle. ‘Such news is rarely unaccompanied by speculation at the very least.'

‘Well,' began Henry, ‘'tis said the Army will assume power … What alternative is there in such circumstances?'

‘They will offer the Protectorship to another,' said Gooding.

‘But who?' asked Judith.

‘God forbid that it should be Fleetwood, or Disbrowe,' Gooding ruminated, following his own train of thought.

‘Cromwell rose from the ranks of the Army; where else shall we look for governance?' put in Judith, whose political views and right to express them were a well-established feature of the household.

‘Perhaps there is someone of sufficient standing to command respect, at least in some measure,' added Nathaniel with the awkwardness men of the sea have when discussing matters of which landsmen are better informed.

‘Well, Harry,' said Faulkner in an unbending and conciliatory moment, for he had seen and guessed the reason for his younger son's heat, ‘as our resident politico, what sayest thou upon the matter of which you have brought us notice?'

Called upon for advice Henry gathered himself. ‘The Army is divided,' he began. ‘The younger officers, all for a republic, are nonetheless largely responsible for the resignation of the Protector. Some older men of the New Model, keen to retain the status quo, would have served under Richard for as long as he drew breath, provided he did not deny the Army its rights—'

‘Whatever they are,' breathed Faulkner under his breath.

Undeterred by this interruption, Henry pressed on. ‘The senior officers have been corrupted by power and have lost touch with the men they are supposed to command, so it would seem that the Rump will be recalled and directed to establish a new republic with no head of state!' Henry's eyes were glowing with excitement at the contemplation of this Utopian dream.

Faulkner laughed. ‘No head of state! Why now, there is a high-road to disaster,' he said dismissively. ‘Surely not. More likely a triumvirate of republicans such as Vane, Ludlow and Heselrige will guide this nation of ours.'

‘And all Christians will be allowed to practise their faith,' put in Judith.

Henry, meanwhile, smarted at his father's rapid analysis of the likely outcome. He had not thought of such a solution. Henry was an idealist, not a pragmatist.

‘Provided it be not Popery or Prelacy, I trust,' interjected Gooding.

‘Indeed not, Uncle,' Henry said, recovering himself. ‘What is being mooted is that a legislature should reflect the will of the people and a senate be appointed from which would derive a council-of-state, and that Fleetwood should be made commander-in-chief of the Army. To this end, Parliament has been recalled.'

‘Well, well,' said Faulkner as Henry looked round the assembled family, judging the impact of his intelligence. ‘It only remains to get the agreement of all parties to this marvellous plan. As for us, my dear Nathan,' he said, nodding at Gooding, emptying his glass, rising to his feet and clapping his son Nathaniel on the shoulder, ‘we must haul down the old
Faithful
and refit her for another voyage to Jamaica, I think.'

‘Aye,' Gooding said, closing the books in front of him. ‘Life goes on.' He rose from the table, gathering both ledgers, papers, pen and ink, indicating that Hannah might help. Both withdrew from the room, followed by Judith. There seemed little more to say, and all knew they would reassemble for dinner. Nathaniel made to move, picking up his hat, while Henry, after a moment's havering, made for the door.

‘Wait, Henry, I would speak with thee alone,' Faulkner said, nodding to Nathaniel as his elder son paused on the threshold and then passed from the room, closing the door behind him. Faulkner turned to Henry. ‘Please sit a moment.'

‘I prefer to stand.'

‘Do please sit.'

‘I prefer to stand,' Henry repeated.

Faulkner paused and studied his younger son; then he shrugged, leaned back in his chair and reached for his pipe, which he filled with slow deliberation. ‘As you wish,' he said at last, picking up a taper and inserting it into the small fire of sea-coal that burned in the grate. ‘I had not meant this to seem like an admonition that you must stand thus before me.'

‘Indeed, Father? It seems that everything you say to me is an admonition. I am not used to such solicitude.'

Faulkner drew the flame of the taper down onto the tobacco packed into the pipe-bowl, still taking his time. After he had extinguished the taper with a shake of his hand, he threw out a plume of blue and curling smoke and smiled. ‘You are right,' he said in a conciliatory tone, ‘we have not seen eye-to-eye, and I blame that upon my own faults. You are in want of curbing, and that is not to be wondered at.' He held up his hand to stem Henry's response. ‘I understand all the opprobrium you think attaches to my person—'

‘Do you, Father?' Henry interjected, unable to restrain himself any further. ‘Do you really know what damage you caused my mother by your wanton conduct?'

Faulkner had heard much in this vein from his censorious son and it no longer goaded him. He contented himself with puffing at his long-stemmed church-warden and let the younger man have his head. When Henry had delivered himself of his moral lecture, Faulkner laid his pipe aside with a sigh and drew himself up to the table.

‘I am not going to refute your argument; all you say is true, and I have never denied it. Notwithstanding my guilt in the eyes of God and man you must understand, or try to understand, that it was my misfortune never to have a home, nor a mother beyond the age of eight; that I grew up in rough circumstances and upon occasion let my heart rule my head. After many years in a bleak land, a man plucks at the first fruit he sees; he has yet to know there are other fruits, other occasions … You have that lesson yet to learn, Henry. Man is imperfect and, despite the cant of the Righteous and Godly who presently consider themselves our masters and with whom you are hugger-mugger, he is incapable of the final remedial improvement necessary for redemption …'

‘Without God, of course not!' spluttered Henry in some indignation.

‘Let us leave God out of it, at least for the time being, because I wish to propose a course of action that will, perhaps, expose you to wider vicissitudes than you have thus far experienced in your life.'

‘You propose sending me to sea.'

Faulkner nodded. ‘I do.'

‘I shall not go.'

‘If I command it, you shall. You are yet short of your majority, and your reluctance is evidence that I have too long neglected your education. You eat from my table at my expense and I hear scarce a word of thanks for it.'

‘Your own lust sired me, sir. It has a price!'

The effrontery of this remark struck them both. Henry's heart lurched as he saw the colour drain from his father's face so that his eyes were no longer those of an ageing man, for they had become chips of ice. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Faulkner spoke first.

‘If you ever take the high tone with me again,
sir
,' he said, aping his son's mock politeness, ‘I shall have you thrown out of the house. I mean what I say,
sir
. A taste of the gutter will curb your damnable insolence.'

Henry swallowed hard, aware that he had gone too far. There was something forbidding, even terrifying, about his father; Henry had forgotten – or perhaps had never properly realized – that his father had held high command and disposed of the lives of seamen at his will. Faulkner went on: ‘Such a remark betrays the over-familiarity you have had with this abominable sect of self-righteous, mealy-mouthed hypocrites that set themselves in judgement over us. Are you a Leveller?'

Unable to speak, Henry shook his head. ‘Father,' he said, in a croaking whisper, ‘I, er …'

‘Speak up, I cannot hear you.'

‘Whatever you say, Father, but I cannot go to sea.'

‘Why not? I can make it as comfortable for you as possible. You can sail as supercargo; you should know enough of the business from your uncle. I will not send you with your brother, but another of our ship-masters.'

‘I cannot go, Father. I will not. That is my last word on the subject.'

Faulkner frowned. ‘Cannot? Will not? These are words driven by imperatives, yet what imperative has laid you under obligations of such determination, eh?'

‘I am … I am engaged to the Parliament.'

‘
Engaged
to the Parliament? In what capacity, pray? A sitting Member? I think not!' Faulkner paused, but Henry made no response, as though unwilling to say more. Faulkner leaned forward, the suspicion forming in his mind crystallizing into a certainty. ‘You are an agent!'

Henry said not a word, but the flicker in his eyes as he met the accusation of his father's told Faulkner everything. London, if not the whole of England, was full of such quasi-spies, tell-tales, gossip-mongers and self-appointed purveyors of intelligence. They formed a network, paid for by the leading Parliamentarians on commission, which informed on decent men, and marked them for casual persecution: not attending church, not agreeing with the policy of the late Lord Protector, not paying dues, even smuggling and moral turpitude. It suddenly occurred to Faulkner that he himself had many times risked apprehension but, thinking he had earned some immunity by his services to the state, had never considered he had more likely hidden behind the political shielding of his younger son.

‘You have protected me from arrest, have you not, Henry?' he said quietly.

Again the young man said nothing beyond the merest inclination of his head.

‘Then I am obliged to you.'

A silence hung between them, broken at last by Henry, who pulled out a chair and sat down, opposite his father. Faulkner stared at his strong, handsome features, a masculine version of Judith's face. ‘So you see, Father, I
cannot
go to sea.'

‘I see that you cannot go by your own reckoning.'

‘You have been once in the Tower.'

Faulkner smiled. ‘Aye, and more than once I have stared down a cannon's mouth; do you seek to frighten me? Besides,' he said, visibly brightening, ‘with Tumbledown Dick in the gutter, who knows what changes are presently afoot?'

‘John Disbrowe—'

‘Disbrowe, Heselrige, Lambert, Fleetwood! Pah! Name whom you will, I care not a fig; none will end up in power though the whole devil's cauldron of them set their bleeding hearts at becoming Lord Protector.'

‘I told you there will be a Council …'

‘No Council will hold this country in one piece longer than a sennight.'

‘Come, Father, that is ridiculous! Pure prejudice! Rest assured there will be no more Kings.'

‘I would not be too sure of that, my boy. Kings represent stability, and this country is eager to resume its trade and traffic. It needs stability, firm ground upon which money can grow. Many of us are keen to line our pockets with honest toil, not the ill-garnered taxes of honest men seized on the sword points of the New Model Army.'

‘But a King guarantees none of that! Better a republic …'

‘I would rather a King that one may curb and lay about with strictures than a republic where any jackanapes may rise to the top through coercion, exploitation, dispossession and damned lies! I have stood close to Kings and know they have feet of clay – no, worse than that, morals that might put the entire Puritan faction to flight overseas in search of a heavenly kingdom – but such immoralities can be held in private camera while the excesses of republicans wreck the lives of ordinary mortals.'

Henry shook his head vehemently. ‘How can you claim such to be true, having lived in the reigns of two Stuarts, the one perverted, the other of such arrogance that he alienated an entire people?'

‘Except those that remained loyal to him,' Faulkner said, lowering his tone and aware that both their arguments were incompatible and their very dissonance had ripped England apart for far too long. ‘The country is weary of this bloody debate, Henry. In the end, circumstances will play themselves out and people will settle for what seems to them the best. Perhaps neither of us should predict the outcome, but let matters take their natural course.'

‘But I must have a part of that process, Father. I am determined upon a seat in Parliament.'