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“Mrs. Shore, this here says that the king is bringing over troops from Ireland,” Captain Walter said, pushing a newssheet over the common table to Alys.
“We won’t stand for an Irish army,” she predicted. “Everyone would take arms against papist Irish. Lord, you’d think he was bent on destroying himself. And not one man in ten believes that he fathered that baby. The things they are saying are scandalous.”
“But they said, from the moment he was conceived, that they knew it was a boy; how can anyone trust that it was their child? How could they know unless they always planned to bring in a boy?”
“What’s it going to do to business?” Alys demanded. “There’s Captain Shore at sea right now, and I daren’t even open the warehouse. I can’t keep the lumpers at work and, to be honest, I don’t want to show lights at the window.”
“It’ll end well,” Captain Walter claimed. “You mark my words, Mrs. Shore. The Princess Mary will come in, and we’ll have the Dutch as partners, not as rivals, and together we’ll have the biggest navy in the world. Then we’ll divide up the world between the two of us, just like the Pope did for the papists. You mark my words.”
HELLEVOETSLUIS, HOLLAND, SUMMER 1688
In the magnificent dockyard of Hellevoetsluis the hundreds of warships of the huge Dutch fleet were finally ready to sail. Cannons and armaments were loaded, supplies stowed. The fleet was under the command of the English Admiral Herbert, newly arrived from England. Ned was attached to the regiment of English volunteers in William of Orange’s army. Their status was uneasy: as treasonous rebels against their king, they had to prove their loyalty to his daughter Princess Mary and his son-in-law William, and their presence was an open secret, as was William’s intention to invade. Everyone knew the English volunteers were there, arming and ready, everyone knew the fleet was preparing to invade, but William declared nothing.
“I mean, this is going to happen, isn’t it?” Ned asked, while drawing weapons and uniforms for his regiment from the Dutch stores. The commissioner shrugged. “Whatever the Elector orders,” he said, taciturn. “For sure, the Dutch people have no wish to invade England.”
The English recruits learned that William had written to his father-in-law, James, King of England, assuring him of his continuing loyalty and friendship.
“Double-dealing,” Robert Ferguson remarked.
“Lord, I hope so,” Ned said with grim humor. “Because if he is a loyal son-in-law and hopes for nothing but good for his papa, then I have come all this way for nothing. And at my age—I begrudge it.”
“He must invade! What are all the ships for?”
Ned smiled. “I wager it will be like the last time, we’ll have to waitfor the wind. But at least we won’t have the Dutch authorities chasing us out of the port.”
“Aye. Now that was a gamble. It was your little lad went for the duke, wasn’t it?”
Ned smiled, remembering Rowan going down the mooring rope like an acrobat.
“Aye. That was a greater gamble than this,” Ned said. “How many men does William have?”
“Fifteen thousand,” Ferguson told him.
Ned gave a low whistle. “He’ll need them,” he agreed. “The king has a standing army of twenty thousand, and when I left England, they were talking about bringing in troops from Ireland.”
“But can he count on their loyalty?”
“He pays them. Once he got parliament to agree that he should have his own army and the funds to pay them, we lost the greatest liberty we ever had. We shouldn’t have given that away. I wouldn’t give a standing army to any ruler, not even to Cromwell.”
“Maybe we’ll win it back,” Ferguson said. “Have you seen the offer from the Whig lords? It doesn’t give Princess Mary the throne in the old way, it sets conditions on her. We’ll maybe have a king and queen; but we’ll never have a tyrant again. This is a new world we’re making, Ned, and this time we have the church and the lords, the parliament and the people on our side.”
WINDSOR CASTLE, AUTUMN 1688
Livia, admiring the queen’s gown for her birthday ball, allowed herself to be persuaded into borrowing a waterfall necklace of diamondsand a pair of diamond earrings from the collection that the treasury had sent to the queen.
“It’s hard to be merry,” Mary Beatrice said as she picked out a tiara for her hair and seated herself before her mirror.
Livia stood behind her and adjusted her curls of dark hair. “So many faces missing,” she complained. “So disloyal to stay away from your birthday ball. But with London so unsafe you know that it’s not a slight on you. They don’t dare to come in from the country.” She smiled at their reflection. “I would never fail you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“And you have to show yourself, dearest, even if half the court has stayed away. And you are looking so beautiful.” She paused, dropped a kiss on Mary Beatrice’s naked shoulder. “With a prince in the cradle, it’s only a matter of time before people realize that the succession is certain, and they settle down.”
“Father Petre says we must grind heresy out of their hearts,” Mary Beatrice said.
“I’m sure he’s right. But not tonight!” Livia said cheerfully. “Tonight, you must dance and be happy—”
She broke off as the door was flung open and a lady-in-waiting curtseyed low. “The king!” she said.
