Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I

THE SPY

When I went to see my mother she was in a state of panic. She had faced the fury of the people of her own country so was no stranger to unpopularity which was reaching the danger point.

“I must get away,” she said. “I must leave this country. I tell you this, Henriette. I picture those people storming the palace. They would have no respect for Queens. I did not think this could happen here. I had thought you were well settled. These people are barbarians. They hate the King. They hate you. And it seems that most of all they hate me. Savages! Like uncivilized people they turn on those who are foreigners to them.”

“They turned on Strafford,” I reminded her. “He was no foreigner. And yes, dear mother, I think you should go…if that is possible.”

“You should come with me, my dear.”

“And leave Charles!”

“Come with me. Perhaps we could go to France.”

“My brother would not welcome us.”

“Shame on him! His own mother and sister!”

“He is first of all King of France.”

“He has no mind of his own. Between Richelieu and that wife of his…. She gives herself airs now that she has produced the heir to the throne. Mon Dieu, she took long enough to do it.”

“Charles thinks that no hindrance would be put in the way of your going.”

“Then I shall leave as soon as possible.”

“I have thought of something. We have a new ally now in the Prince of Orange. This marriage might not have been so degrading after all. I know that Orange has little standing in Europe, but he is very rich. It may be that he will help to raise an army for us and I could bring it back to stand with the King’s. And then we could make war on these Puritan Parliamentarians and let them see who is the master here…they or their anointed King.”

“It is a good idea. I want to leave as soon as possible. I shall never sleep peacefully in my bed until I am out of this country.”

I said that I would consult Charles. “He would not want me to go,” I added. “He would hate my being out of the country.”

“Oh come,” said my mother impatiently, “you talk as though he is a passionate bridegroom and you plan your honeymoon.”

“Our being together is a long honeymoon. There is no restriction that I know of as to how long they shall last.”

My mother lifted her shoulders in exasperation. She was not the sort of woman to understand love like ours.

I left her then and when I saw Charles I told him what was in my mind. He always listened to what I had to say with as much attention—no more—than he listened to his ministers.

“Mary is too young for the consummation but the Prince of Orange is urging us to send her to Holland. Why should she not go? She will be safer there than here. I can take her…perhaps travel with my mother…and then I could say that I am going to the spa in Lower Lorraine because I am in poor health. Of course I should not go there, but be in Holland and perhaps try to see my brother. Who knows? If he were actually face to face with me he might not be able to refuse my pleas for help.”

On consideration Charles thought it a good idea.

“We should be separated in any case,” he said, “as I have to go to Scotland.”

“Scotland again!”

“I plan to placate them, to give them what they want and to enlist their help against those in England who are against me.”

I clasped my hands. Any new project filled me with hope even though, had I pondered more intently, I might have seen that it was doomed to failure before it began. But my nature was such that as long as I was feverishly putting some plot into action I could see nothing but success. Charles was a little like that too. Perhaps that was why we plunged into wild schemes without giving them due thought.

When Parliament heard that my mother was planning to leave they gave their wholehearted permission for her to go. No one could have said more clearly: Good riddance. They even helped her on her way by giving her a sum of money for the journey.

As to my leaving, they were very suspicious about that. Naturally they suspected my trip to the Continent had been arranged for a purpose other than my health. They were insulting. They gave orders that my jewels were not to be taken out of the country and they instructed Sir Theodore Mayerne to examine me and decide whether the waters of a foreign spa were necessary to preserve my health.

Old Mayerne could be one of the most irritating men I knew. Of course he was a Huguenot and not very sympathetic toward the Catholic cause. I think he looked upon me as a wayward child. He could not bring himself to say that my health would be endangered if I did not take the waters. I was annoyed with him when I heard what he had reported and the verdict was that I was not to be allowed to leave the country.

I raged at Mayerne, who surveyed me sardonically. I could not threaten to dismiss him from the royal service. He was too valuable for that and Charles would never have agreed. He admired Mayerne as the best doctor in Europe and he had often said that his frankness was symbolic of his nature. “He is incapable of dissembling,” said Charles, “and those are the sort of people we need about us, those who tell the truth for its own sake and do not suppress it out of fear or in the hope of favor.”

So I had to accept his judgment, knowing of course that it was the truth. But I stormed at him. I had suffered a great deal during the uncertainty over Strafford and I was worried every hour of the day for our future.

“I am afraid I shall go mad,” I said to Mayerne, at which he looked at me steadily.

“You need have no fear,” he replied, “for you already are.”

I could not help laughing at him. What a way for a subject to speak to his sovereign! But he did not see me as a queen. In his opinion I was an hysterical overwrought woman who was either imagining or pretending she suffered from ailments which would be cured in a foreign spa.

So with Charles in Scotland and my mother on the way to Antwerp, I went to Oatlands. There I would work out how I could get Mary to Holland and accompany her; and even if I were not allowed to leave the country it would be better for Mary to go. She would be much safer in Holland.

I was trying to find a little peace while I waited for Charles to return. If he could please the Scots, if he could get them on his side, who knew, we might put an end to this miserable Parliament. Parliaments had always caused trouble. I agreed with Charles that a king had been chosen by Divine Right to rule and surely that should be enough without parliaments interfering. They always caused trouble. Why could they not leave us in peace?

But they could not…even at Oatlands. Word was sent to me that the Prince of Wales was visiting me too frequently and that I was endeavoring to instruct him in the Catholic Faith.

My reply to that was that the King had chosen his governor and I was well aware that it was not the King’s will that any of our children should be brought up in the Catholic Faith.

That had to satisfy them, but an extraordinary thing did happen while I was at Oatlands. One day the local magistrate came to me and asked to see me in private. I saw him at once and he told me that he had received an order from Parliament to get together all the militia of the district and bring them to Oatlands by midnight. They would be met by a company of cavalry officers and would be told what was expected of them.

“I came to Your Majesty,” said the magistrate, “because I feared that it was a plot against you and I would have you know that it is my desire to serve Your Majesty with my life.”

I was always deeply moved by such expressions of loyalty and I thanked the magistrate warmly. I told him that there might well be a plot to capture me or my children…all of us perhaps. “I have many enemies, my friend,” I said. “They are those grim-faced men who think they are holier than God Himself. We have many of them in Parliament, I fear, and they plan to do me a mischief. I thank you for your warning. Now I shall be ready.”

And I was ready. The day passed quickly and I was exhilarated in spite of everything, because immediate action was demanded. I saw that everyone in the house was armed. Then we waited for nightfall and the assault.

It did not come.

I wondered why because I was sure of the integrity of the magistrate and he swore he had received the instructions he had explained.

I could only think that whoever had planned it had got wind of the loyalty of the magistrate and his men and did not want to meet opposition.

But the incident did make me feel that I ought to make plans to get away; and if they would not sanction my departure I must leave secretly.

Plotting, discarding plans, discussing the matter endlessly with Lucy who, I felt, was the only one I could really trust, planning for the horses I should need on the road to Portsmouth…all this made time pass quickly.

I decided I would leave Oatlands for Hampton Court for word had come to me that Charles was on his way home. At Hampton I could meet some of the most influential men in the country and I hoped to persuade them to stand with the King.

It was wonderful when Charles arrived at Hampton. We clung together for a long time as though we would never let each other go. The children were there too and they had their share of affection. But for Charles I was the one who meant most to him and so it was with him in my affections.

We talked and talked. The trip to Scotland had not been a success but that did not seem to matter as long as we were together again.

Quite a number of people came to Hampton to welcome the King and it was like old times and, ever ready to hope, I told myself all was going to be well again.

We were going to make a triumphant return to Whitehall. Some of our friends told us that there would be a civic welcome for us. The people were delighted because my mother had gone and that was a great source of irritation removed; the Papal envoy had left; the King had returned from Scotland without that army of Scotsmen which it was feared he might bring with him.

“Our troubles are over,” said the hopeful ones; and of course I was ready to believe them.

And then this unfortunate thing happened. We were all standing at a window looking out—the King, the children, myself and one or two of our friends—when a gypsy came up and asked for money. She had a basket on her arm; she was bent and deformed and such a strange sight that some of our party began to laugh at her.

There was a general titter. I did not like it because I never laughed at people’s deformities. I had my dwarfs, it was true, but I always treated them with the respect due to normal human beings. It was not their stunted growth which appealed to me but that I saw a certain beauty in them and they were such good servants. I was not one who laughed at the gypsy.

She looked up at us and her face was malevolent, evil. I drew back for I saw that her eyes were fixed on the King and myself as well as our children.

She took out a hand mirror from her basket and handed it to the King.

“I don’t want it,” he said.

“Look into it,” she commanded, “and see what you can see.”

The King looked at it and I who was close, looked too. I gave a little shriek. The King had turned pale. Others crowded round and looked into the mirror but they could only see their own faces and that was all I could see now, but just for a few seconds I had seen something else…and so had the King.

The mirror had shown us the King’s head…without his body.

I was almost fainting. The King had put an arm about me and I heard the cackle of the gypsy.

“Did you like what you saw, my lord, my lady? You should give me money. You should always treat the gypsies well or they might show you what it is better for you not to see.”

“Give the woman money,” said the King.

It was thrown down to her. She picked it up and put it in her basket. She took the mirror which had been given back to her. She said: “In that room in which you stand another will be sleeping. He has a dog with him. That dog will die…and when he dies the kingdom will come back to the King.”

With that she hobbled away leaving the company twittering with excitement and myself almost fainting in my husband’s arms.

He said I needed to rest and he took me to our apartment in the palace.

“It was terrible,” I gasped.

“It was an illusion,” he replied. “How could something which was not there be seen in the mirror?”

“We both saw it,” I reminded him.

“It could not have been so,” he replied.

Then he tried to comfort me with the good news that the people of London were giving us a welcome.

“They have changed toward us,” he said. “Those who were shrieking outside the palace are now going to receive us with affection.”

“Can we trust those who change so quickly?”

“They had what they wanted. Strafford dead…and your mother gone. They will love us again, you will see.”

“I do not trust such fickle love,” I said.

Then he held me fast and thanked God that we were together again.

The weather was cold but there was a new warmth in my heart as we rode side by side into Moorgate where the Mayor and aldermen were waiting to greet us. We were presented with two richly caparisoned horses and a golden coach. The Mayor told us that the horses were for the King and the Prince of Wales and the coach for me and the younger children.

Charles was so delighted that he knighted the Mayor and the Recorder on the spot and when this pleasant ceremony was over, the merchants of the city crowded round to kiss the King’s hand.

My two Charleses mounted the horses which had been presented to them and with the children I stepped into the coach and we drove down to the Guildhall.

I had not been so happy for a long time as I was when I rode through those streets under the fluttering banners and the strips of cloth of gold which they had put up to welcome us.

My husband and son looked so noble on their magnificent horses. I wondered how any could turn against them for the sake of those ugly roundheaded creatures with their black clothes and miserable faces.

There was a sumptuous banquet for us at the Guildhall and the city dignitaries had brought out the gold plate which they only did on the most important occasions.

What a welcome! It showed the mood of the people. We had only had to sacrifice Strafford—which I knew still worried Charles—and get rid of my mother, who had been one of the main causes of our unpopularity. It was a pity that she had ever come. Well, she had gone now. She would be in Antwerp. I hoped she was not making trouble there.

All was going to be well. We must be strong. We must stand firm. I would talk to Charles about that. Dear good man that he was, he was too lenient, too ready to believe the best of everyone.

At last we arrived at Whitehall, tired but jubilant.

All was going to be well in the end.

I talked to Charles that night when we were alone. He had ideas. He was going to dismiss the guards which the Parliament had set up in Westminster to look after the Houses of Parliament.

“Their guards will go,” he said. “Mine will be there. I know you think I give way too easily, but I have not been idle. There are men loyal to me in the kingdom and they have their own trained bands. They shall guard the Houses of Parliament.”

I clasped my hands in pleasure. “That is excellent,” I said.

“Of course,” went on Charles, “they won’t like it. Men like Pym will have their suspicions.”

“Let them,” I cried. “We’ll make sure that our guards are loyal.”

“I wish that I could arrest certain members of the Parliament. They should be impeached for their disloyalty to the crown.”

“Why not?” I asked excitedly.

“I am unsure,” he answered.

“Which would you arrest? Pym for sure, I would say.”

“Certainly Pym; Hampden is another. Then there are Holles, Strode, Haselrig…. They are the ones I most distrust. If we could berid of them we might make some headway in Parliament.”

“You must arrest them.”

“I will think of it.”

“Soon,” I whispered.

Then he lifted me in his arms and said it was time we went to bed.

I could not sleep much. I was thinking of the wonderful reception which the city of London had given us. It was often said that if London was with you, the whole country would be.

It was changing. Perhaps the panic had been unnecessary and we had feared too much, become too nervous, let ourselves be led by fear.

I must keep Charles to his resolution. He would achieve much if he could take those men by surprise. If he could ride into the House of Commons with guards to arrest them, they could be put into prison before they realized what was happening; and once they were there it should not be difficult to make the people see that they were a menace to peace.

He must do it. He must.

I knew he would waver. He was always tormented by his fear that he might not be doing what was right. This was right…absolutely right. What had they done to dear good noble Strafford? Murder. Judicial murder if they liked, but murder nevertheless. They should all go to the block for that alone.

I could scarcely wait for morning.

Charles was thoughtful. He was pondering on the enormity of what he proposed to do. It was coming into the open, he said. So far, although it had been in people’s minds, no one had mentioned yet that such divided opinion in the country was heading toward civil war. That was a prospect which should make anyone who wished the country well pause and think.

Now Charles was pausing and thinking.

I urged him; I persuaded him; I hinted that to let such an opportunity pass was cowardice as well as folly. If he did not grasp this chance and use it to advantage he could not blame anyone but himself if he had to fight for his kingdom.

He looked at me with horror and I cried out: “Yes, I keep my eyes and ears open. I keep myself alert…for you. I cannot stand by and see you lose your kingdom. Dearest Charles, you must act…now. This is the time. Let this go and you may not have another opportunity.”

At last he made his decision. He knew that he would not be able to face me if he did not make the attempt.

He was ready. He was going to do it. I embraced him feverishly. “I am so proud of you, my King,” I said. “Everything is going to change now. This is the turning point.”

He whispered to me. “I will go now. If one hour passes without your receiving ill news of me, you will see me when I return master of my kingdom.”

I bade him farewell. “My heart goes with you,” I said.

“I will be back,” he told me. “Give me one hour.”

I don’t think I have ever known an hour take so long to pass. I could not stop myself glancing at my watch every few minutes. Lucy was sitting with me. “You are restless this morning, Madam,” she said.

“No…no…Lucy. Not restless.”

“Well, I declare this is the third time you have looked to see the time…and all in the last five minutes.”

“Oh…you are mistaken,” I said, and she smiled and spoke of other things.

When I remember that morning, I am so ashamed. I curse my folly, my stupidity…my blindness. Why could I not see what was right under my nose? The burden of guilt becomes intolerable when I look back.

At last the hour was over. Now! I thought. It is done. At this moment those men are under arrest. Everyone is going to see that the King is indeed the King. He will brook no interference from a set of miserable sly-faced scheming Puritans.

I jumped up. I could contain myself no longer. Lucy was beside me. “Something ails you, I know. It has been worrying you this last hour.”

“I am not worried…not anymore,” I cried. “It is time for rejoicing. I have every reason to hope that the King is now master of his realm. Pym and his confederates will have been arrested by now.”

Lucy stared at me. “Is that so?” she said. “Has the King gone to the House of Commons to arrest them?”

“He has indeed.”

“Then there is every reason to congratulate the King. I am going to bring a little wine so that we can drink a toast to him.”

“Do that, Lucy,” I said.

She ran out of the room. I was astonished that she did not return. But I was too excited to bother very much. I went to the window and stood there waiting.

I waited for a long time.

The King eventually returned…dejected. Then I heard the terrible news.

The arrests had not taken place. Pym and his friends had been warned of what was about to happen and had fled, so that when the King with his guards entered the House of Commons, they had already left.

Charles was desolate. It seemed that fate was against us. Who could have warned them? There had been so few of us who knew what was planned.

“There is a spy close to us,” I said.

“I fear so,” replied the King. He went on to tell me that he had been delayed when he was about to enter the House of Commons. “You know what it is like when I go to the Parliament. They are lying in wait for me. They all have some grievance, some petition to present. I must stay and listen to them. They are my subjects. I did not worry about the loss of time because I thought that only you and I shared the secret. So I was late going into the House. I believe they had left but a few minutes before.”

“But how…why…?”

“Someone knew and warned them.”

“But who could?”

He looked at me sadly. “You did not mention the matter?”

“Only to Lucy…and that after the hour had passed.”

“But Lucy Carlisle has become Pym’s mistress.”

“Oh…mon Dieu.” I felt sick with horror. “Lucy? Not Lucy. She is friendly with Pym. She finds out what she can from those devious Parliamentarians so that she can tell us, help us….”

“It may be,” said Charles somberly, “that she talks to you and passes on to them what they want to know.”

“You can’t mean that Lucy….”

“I was told that a messenger went to Pym. He came from her.”

“I will send for her immediately.”

I did so, but Lucy was not in the palace.

“What did you tell her?” asked the King.

“Nothing…until the hour was up. Then I asked her to rejoice with me because you were master of your realm for you had gone to arrest those troublemakers and the deed was now done.”

“Within an hour! It must have been a good half an hour later before I was able to get into the House. Time enough for her to warn Pym…which she did.”

I covered my face with my hands.

“Oh Charles,” I cried, “I have destroyed your plan! I, who would give my life for you, have destroyed you.”

But he wouldn’t hear of it. He tried to comfort me. He told me it was unimportant. All that mattered was that I loved him. We would forget this disaster.

“But it was my fault. You may forgive me but I shall never forgive myself.”

He rocked me in his arms as though I were a baby and I marveled at this love for me and that he should care so deeply for one whose folly had dealt him such a blow.

What could I do to convince him of my love for him, to show my gratitude for his forgiveness of my folly? What could I ever do to show him how much I loved him?

I longed for an opportunity to die for his sake. But such opportunities do not come.

We did not at first realize how disastrously we—or rather I—had mismanaged that affair. The King’s intention was now known and our little flush of popularity was over. It seemed that everyone was turning against us. No, that was not true. There were some faithful friends. Lord Digby, for one, suggested taking a company of his cavaliers and pursuing Pym and the rest, and when he had found them putting them under restraint. Perhaps that would have been the best thing to do. However, the King forbade it.

At least we were now shown who were our true friends. I was bewildered and quite stunned by Lucy’s perfidy though when I looked back over the last years I can see that a wiser person than I might have guessed. Her friendship with Pym should have told me. How could I have been such a fool as to imagine that she was feigning that interest in him and his affairs for the sake of me! What hurt me more than Lucy’s unfaithfulness was the fact that I had been the one to foil Charles’s plans. Sometimes it seems to me that no one could have worked more indefatigably against him than I who loved him and would have died for him.

But as I said we sorted out the good friends from the false. Men like the Earl of Holland and the Earl of Essex made excuses to retire from Court and in my newly found wisdom I knew what that meant.

We became really alarmed when the mobs started to roam the streets. They carried placards on which was written the one word: Liberty. I did not know what they meant by that. Did they think they would have greater liberty under the stern Parliamentarians’ Puritan rule than they did under that of the King?

My mother was gone; the Pope’s envoy was gone. What did they want of us now?

Charles was afraid for me because it was against me that the might of their venom was turned. He thought it better for us to leave Whitehall and we prepared to go.

It was a terrible journey. We sat there in the gilded coach which had so recently carried us through cheering crowds and as we went, faces looked in at us…frightening faces, hating, leering, threatening…I knew not what.

How glad I was to leave Westminster behind and come to the green fields surrounding Hampton but the mansion itself, although always beautiful and a place I had especially loved, now held memories of a wild-eyed gypsy holding a mirror to our eyes.

When we entered it seemed dark and unwelcoming. No one came out to attend to the carriage. Our guards helped us to alight and the air struck cold as we entered. There were no fires to greet us and no apartments had been made ready.

All through the night the King and I, with our three children Charles, Mary and James, shivered in one room.

“At least,” I said to Charles, “we are all together.”

“We cannot stay here,” he replied. “Tomorrow we will leave for Windsor.”

This we did and what a comfort it was to see the beautiful castle, which looked so strong and royal that there seemed a special significance in it at this time. I was so glad to escape from the cold unwelcoming ambience of Hampton, which I felt I could never really like again whatever happened.

“We must be prepared,” said the King. “Pym and his friends know that I would have impeached them. They will do everything they can to raise the country against me. It is going to be a matter of deciding between the King and the Parliament. I put my faith in my loyal subjects.”

“There are countless numbers of them,” said Denbigh. “We will call them together. They will all understand the menace of the Puritans.”

I said: “We must raise money and I am the best one to do that. I am sure that I could persuade my brother to help us if I could only see him.”

They looked at me expectantly and I was thinking: If only I could do something really wonderful! If only I could make up for this terrible thing I have done. I was sure that they all blamed me for the position in which we now found ourselves. The arrest of those ringleaders would have stemmed the tide against us. Charles was the only one who tried to pretend that it was not so very important.

I was desperate to show him what I would do for him.

It seemed to be a good idea. Help was desperately needed. The Pope’s conditions were too harsh. In exchange for helping Charles to keep his throne the Holy Father was demanding that he act in such a manner as could not end in anything but his losing it. The people of England would never accept a Catholic king. I knew that now. Our friends did not forget for one moment that I was the sister of the King of France and, although they did not expect altruism from Louis, they knew that he would not want to see a monarch deposed. There was a possibility, therefore, that he would give aid, and who better to plead for it than his sister?

I rather pinned my hopes on the Prince of Orange. He was so delighted to have secured our Princess that he might be willing to give money or arms. I warmed to the project. I would go to Holland on the pretext that I was taking my daughter to her husband.

“The Parliament did not agree to your leaving the country before,” Denbigh pointed out.

“I will leave this time with their permission or without it and I will take valuables with me so that I can barter for what we need.”

The King looked at me with pride. He said: “I shall have to go to Hull, so we should be separated in any case. At Hull there is the store of ammunition which is in readiness for attacking the Scots. If I can secure that I shall be ready to face my enemies if need be.”

This then was to be our plan. The King would go to Hull so that if necessary he would have the means to fight. In the meantime with or without Parliament’s permission I would take my daughter to Holland.

“We should first wait for permission,” said Charles, eager to keep everything peaceful for as long as he could, and to our amazement no objection was raised to my leaving the country with my daughter.

I said we must go with all haste in case they changed their minds and tried to stop us and everyone agreed that this should be so.

Charles conducted us to the coast. First we stayed in Canterbury, where the cold of the February winds was more bearable than the coldness in my heart. I was to leave Charles and as ever when he said goodbye to me I asked myself when we should meet again.

I tried to smile. I told him that the project was going to be successful and in time our troubles would pass away. There would be no black-clad grim-faced Puritans to spoil our happiness.

“It is going to be so hard without you,” said Charles. “When you are with me nothing else seems of any great importance.”

“I know,” I answered. “So it is with me. But all is going to come right in the end. Sometimes I feel that happiness like ours has to be fought for…paid for. My love, I am going to bring back such aid for your cause that we shall beat those rebels into the ground.”

“My fierce little general,” he said, “don’t stay away too long.”

“Not for a moment longer than I can help,” I assured him, “and our reunion will be the sweeter for our having been parted for this little while.”

I wished we could have lingered in Canterbury beneath the shadow of the great cathedral but we had to pass on with all speed, for who knew when our enemies might change their minds and try to stop my departure?

The next day we left for Dover. It was a brave sight to see the Dutch ships in the harbor—a squadron of fifteen commanded by Admiral van Tromp.

I said to Charles: “How eager they are to have their little Princess. I am sure they will want to help her father and mother.”

A surprise awaited us, for with the fleet had come Prince Rupert, who had visited us earlier with his brother, Charles Louis. We had been amused at the time of Mary’s wedding because Charles Louis had refused to come. He had been sulking because Mary was marrying the Prince of Orange instead of him. Rupert, however, had been there and this bright handsome young man seemed to be really fond of us.

He greeted us with affection and said that he had heard there was trouble in England and that he would put himself at the disposal of his uncle to fight those miserable Puritans.

Charles thanked him and said there was no question of war and he thought that all sensible people realized that that was the last thing that would do anyone good. He was thankful to say it had not come to that and he fervently hoped it never would.

Rupert was clearly disappointed and as he did not wish to stay in England if there was no fighting to be done, he said he would go back to Holland with us and protect me and my daughter.

Charles replied that he would indeed be grateful to his dear nephew if he would do that.

“The Queen is my most precious jewel,” he said. “Care for her and you serve me in the way for which I am most grateful.”

So it was agreed that Rupert should return with us.

The last farewell! I shall never forget it. It is one of those memories which stay with me forever.

To draw attention from his real purpose, which was to go to Hull where the stacks of ammunition were being held, Charles was dressed in hunting clothes. He had let it be known that after saying goodbye to me he was going north on a hunting expedition.

He kissed first our daughter, then he turned to me and held me in his arms. He kissed me again and again. Then he released me only to catch me up in his arms once more.

“How am I going to live without you?” he demanded.

“In the same way as I must perforce live without you.”

“Oh, my dearest, don’t go. Never leave me.”

“I will come back with riches…with what we need to fight our enemies. Then, my dearest love, we shall be together and live happily for as long as our lives shall last.”

More kisses. More embraces. We could not bring ourselves to release each other.

But I must go and at last I reluctantly tore myself away. He stood watching me as I went aboard. I stood on deck, he on the shore, and we looked longingly at each other until the ship began to move slowly away.

Then he galloped along the cliff, his hat in his hand waving…waving….

I could not see him clearly for the tears in my eyes, but I went on waving until he was out of sight.