Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [101]
Whyte frowned, intrigued. ‘Your Highness can, of course, rely upon me for anything.’
‘Of course,’ repeated Rupert. ‘But I would rather this was done as an act of friendship, not duty. Please be seated.’
Whyte did so, a little uneasy at not standing before the Prince. The monkey looked at him, as if it sensed his discomfort.
Rupert steepled his fingers and glanced up at the ceiling. ‘I have not yet seen the King.’
Whyte nodded. ‘Aye, I was informed as such.’
‘There are reasons for this,’ continued Rupert without pausing. ‘As you may know, my uncle and I did not part on the best of terms.’
This was putting it mildly. The Prince, having commanded Charles’s army, had fallen out of favour after giving up the crucial port of Bristol to the Parliamentarians.
‘In fact,’ said Rupert with a soft sigh, ‘His Majesty sent me into exile.’
Whyte gave a little grunt. ‘Then the King is not aware of your part in this scheme?’
Rupert shook his head. ‘He believes it to have originated with the Queen. In point of fact, the whole thing was my idea from first to last. My dear aunt took some persuading but finally she saw the merit of it.’
Whyte puffed air out of his cheeks.
‘For myself, sir, I would wish the King were safely abroad before this... assassination is attempted.’
Rupert nodded. ‘Alas, if the King were not such an obstinate fellow we would never have found ourselves in this plight.’
Whyte shifted his weight on the rickety chair. ‘What would you like me to do, sir?’
Rupert scratched his head. ‘I do not want my presence here to be a surprise. I should like you to inform His Majesty that I am here and that the scheme is mine also. That I carry the full blessing of Queen Henrietta Maria and that myself, Captain Stanislaus, and the er... package from Holland all await his pleasure.’
Whyte raised his eyebrows and sighed. It was no small request. But this was no time to stand on ceremony. The King’s life and the future of the monarchy itself were in the hands of the small group gathered in that dank warehouse.
‘As you wish, Your Highness.’
‘Capital!’ cried Rupert.
He called to his monkey and it skittered across the room and jumped on to his shoulder. He plucked a grape from the bunch on the table and fed it to his pet, making little clucking noises with his mouth.
Sensing that Whyte had made no move to leave, Rupert looked up.
‘Was there something else?’
Whyte leaned forward. ‘May I ask what plans His Majesty has once Cromwell is dead?’
Rupert opened his hands wide and shrugged. ‘An army has been raised, of course. In the chaos caused by old Ironsides’
death, they will invade.’
Whyte looked uneasy. ‘An invading army? From where, sir?’
Rupert sat back in his chair. ‘Oh, all over. But mainly Poland.’
Whyte was aghast. ‘A Catholic army? On English soil?’
Rupert looked away. ‘Needs must when the devil drives, Master Whyte.’
Whyte stood up, the chair scraping behind him. ‘Sir, this is unconscionable! ‘
‘Rupert shook his head. ‘No, sir, it is pragmatic. We must restore His Majesty to the throne, by any means we can.’ He waved dismissively. ‘Now, you may go.’
Whyte stood his ground for a moment, his mind full of questions, then he turned and stalked from the room.
Ben and Scrope had tailed their quarries for some distance before the men disappeared into a large covered wagon which had obviously been sent for them.
As the vehicle rattled away over the cobbles, Scrope announced that they must make for Parliament with the utmost haste.
After an exhausting journey spent weaving through the narrow, choked London lanes, they approached the broad square which faced the Commons.
Ben could hardly believe how recently he had stood before it with Polly, wondering what was occurring before its great black doors.
Scrope had belied his years and set an amazing pace throughout their journey. Sometimes he moved so swiftly that Ben could scarcely keep up and several times he had to stop and look about to see which