London - Edward Rutherfurd [396]
If Julius had felt downhearted at the loss of his brother, and perhaps, still, a little awkward about his use of a treasure that was not strictly his, the secret journey he made to the king’s court at Oxford did much to raise his spirits. Together with two other trusted men, he had ridden out of London early one morning dressed as a Roundhead – a disguise they had kept on for more than twenty miles. Sewn into the clothes of the three men were quantities of gold coins provided by Julius from the treasure. Between them they were able to carry almost a thousand pounds. By the following evening they were at the defensive ramparts round the old university city; and the next day, in Christ Church college, Julius was able to present his money to the king in person.
“Faithful Sir Julius.” It was the proudest moment of his life when King Charles spoke those words. “We count you amongst our most loyal friends.”
“I should gladly fight for Your Majesty,” he declared. “But I have no skill at arms.”
“We should rather,” the king replied, “that you remain in London. We need faithful friends we can rely on there.” And for fully half an hour the king had walked with him around the old college quadrangle, asking for all kinds of information about the state of the city and its defences. For his part, the king did not hesitate to give him his confidence, explaining: “Many of my well-wishers would have me compromise my conscience. But this I must not do. I have a sacred duty.” It was, however, his final words, just as they were parting, that had gone straight to Julius’s heart. “I cannot tell,” King Charles said quietly, “how this great matter will turn out. That is in God’s hands.” He looked solemn. “But if anything should befall me, Sir Julius, I have two sons – two of the blood royal to succeed me. May I ask that you will keep faith with them, as you have with me?”
“Your Majesty has no need to ask,” he replied, much moved. “You have my word.”
“And I have no subject,” the king replied, “whose word is worth more. Thank you, Sir Julius.”
Julius was not able to slip through to Oxford again; the London approaches were too closely watched. But from that day, he felt he had gained an inner strength. If his life in London was drab, he was there for a purpose, and he would quietly remind his family: “I have given the king my word.”
Even so, in the years that followed, it was not always easy to keep up his spirits. Early in 1645, the Roundheads had executed Archbishop Laud. It was a sign of how far they meant to go. When Cromwell and his army won the war and King Charles was held captive, he had still hoped that a settlement might be reached. Once, when secret messengers from the king had called at his house he had advised them: “If the king would give up bishops, Parliament and the Londoners will surely compromise.” But when King Charles failed to give way, he was not really surprised, remembering his words: “I have a sacred duty.” As the negotiations dragged on interminably, Julius had wondered how they could ever come to a conclusion.
But he could still scarcely believe the events of the last two months. Only after Pride’s purge of Parliament had the full naked power of the army been clearly seen. Having asserted their power, the army men moved ruthlessly. By January the scene was set. The king was brought to Westminster Hall for a trial. “Or a mockery of a trial,” as Julius described it. Certainly many of those summoned to sit in judgment upon the king, including several London aldermen, refused to take part. King Charles, true to form, refused to recognize the court’s authority, but as he also pointed out, this was not even a court of the Parliament, since the army had thrown out most of its members. The answer of the army’s court was to remove him, on both the first and the second day. “He was tried, in effect, in his absence,” Julius noted. On the third day the army’s henchmen, who insisted on referring to