London - Edward Rutherfurd [389]
“The king’s up at York. He’s calling all loyal members of Parliament to join him. Some of them are coming.” But he also confessed: “The eastern and southern sea ports are all closed to us. The navy seems to be disloyal too.”
“Parliament’s asked for voluntary contributions,” Julius had to tell him. “So much silver plate’s come in that they hardly know what to do with it.”
In the late summer, it seemed to Julius that a small sign of hope appeared. Some of the king’s supporters were producing sensible, reasoned pamphlets that seemed to open the door to compromise. “Perhaps,” he told his family, “a settlement will still be reached.” But in August, the mayor was removed, and Pennington the Puritan was chosen in his place. And meeting Gideon in Watling Street one day, the solid craftsman cheerfully told him: “We’re all Roundheads now.” A week later news came that the king had raised his standard in Nottingham. This was the traditional, chivalric way for a king to declare war.
It was in September that Henry came again. He came at dusk. Julius noticed that he now wore a breastplate of armour over his tunic. After a brief visit to his own house in Covent Garden, he spent the night in the house behind Mary-le-Bow and talked to Julius for long hours.
“The north and most of the west are loyal,” he told his brother. “Several great lords have promised troops. King Charles has summoned his nephew Rupert to come over from Germany.” Julius knew that Prince Rupert was a first-rate leader of cavalry. “There will be one short engagement,” Henry predicted. “The parliamentary levies are not properly trained. They won’t last five minutes against Rupert.” He smiled. “Then we’ll bring some order back.”
Soon after dawn, Henry quietly left. With him he took, sewn into his clothes and his baggage, no less than three thousand pounds worth of gold and silver coin. When Julius had looked doubtful about the amount, he had given him that splendid, proud look of his and remarked: “We are gentlemen, brother, and loyal to the king. Isn’t that,” he reminded him, “what father would have wanted?”
The next day, as if in anticipation of sombre times ahead, the mayor and council ordered all the London theatres closed. Before long, parties of trained bands started marching out of the city. The defences round the gate were being strengthened. By the early days of October, everyone was waiting anxiously for news of a battle. None came. Julius realized that he had not seen Gideon Carpenter for some time.
It was on the last Sunday in October that the extraordinary thing happened in St Lawrence Silversleeves.
There had been a battle of sorts in the West Country that week, but it had not been decisive. The trained bands had started trickling back into London to regroup, but King Charles and Prince Rupert were moving across the country very cautiously. News was still fragmentary.
Julius and his family had come into church at the last moment that morning because one of the children had been sick. Julius had hardly bothered to glance round as he hustled them all, as quietly as possible, into the family pew. He did notice, however, that the little church seemed unusually full. Only a minute later, as the silence before the service fell, did he realize something odd.
The altar table was in the wrong place. It had been moved back into the nave.
Then Meredith entered. He was not dressed in his usual gleaming cope. Instead, he was wearing a long black coat and a plain white shirt. He strode to the front of the church; but then, instead of sitting in his usual place, in the chancel, he mounted at once into the pulpit, as though he were about to preach. Julius could only stare as Edmund Meredith began the service.
Except, Julius frowned, that it was not the service. The words were wrong. What had come over the man? He knew the entire Prayer Book by heart. Had Meredith suffered some mental aberration? What the devil was he saying? And then he realized. It was the Directory: the order of service of the Presbyterians. Calvinism – here in his very own church! He