The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

AN EXCERPT FROM

THE LOVES OF

CHARLES II

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It was late afternoon on a July day in the fourth year of the Great Rebellion. The sun was hot; the grass banks were brown; and the purple nettle-flowers and the petals of the woundwort were peppered with fine dust.

A small party—two men and two women—trudged slowly along the road, looking neither to right nor to left, their eyes fixed on the ground. One of the women was a hunchback, and it was this deformed one who carried a sleeping child.

Sweat ran down her face; she caught her breath as she saved herself from tripping over a stone and going headlong into one of the numerous potholes which were a feature of the road. She wiped the sweat from her face but did not lift her eyes from the ground.

After a while she spoke. “How far from the inn, Tom?”

“We’ll be there within the hour.”

“There’s time before dark,” said the other woman. “Let’s stop for a rest. The boy’s heavy.”

Tom nodded. “A few minutes will do no harm,” he said.

The hunchback spoke again. “Only let us rest if you are sure there’s time, Tom. Don’t let the dark overtake us. There’ll be robbers on the road at twilight.”

“There are four of us,” answered Tom, “and we look too poor to rob. But Nell’s right. There’s time for a rest.”

They sat on the bank. Nell took off her boots and grimaced at her swollen feet while the hunchback laid the child gently on the grass. The others would have helped, but she waved them aside; she seemed determined that none but herself should touch the child.

“Here’s the best spot for you,” said Tom to the hunchback. “The bush makes a good support.” But the hunchback shook her head and looked at him with some reproach. He smiled and sat down at the spot he had chosen as the best. “We should be in Dover long before this time tomorrow,” he added.

“Call me Nan,” said the hunchback.

“Yes … Nan … I will.”

“You must remember to call me Nan. It is short for Nanette. Ask my husband. Is that not so, Gaston?”

“Yes … that is so. Nan … it is short for Nanette.”

“And that is my name.”

“Yes, Nan,” said Tom.

“There is someone coming,” said Nell quickly.

They were silent, listening to the sound of footsteps on the road. A man and a woman came into sight, and the hunchback’s eyes went to the sleeping child beside her; her right hand moved out and rested on its ragged clothes.

The man and woman who were approaching carried bundles, and their dress proclaimed them to be of slightly higher social standing than the group on the bank. The man, who wore his hair cut short so that his pink and rather prominent ears could be seen, might have been a tradesman. The woman was plump and puffing with exertion; it was clear that she was finding the heat uncomfortable.

“Here’s sensible people,” she was grumbling, “taking a rest by the roadside. I declare I’ll do the same, for my feet won’t carry me a step farther until I give them a short rest.”

“Now come along, Kitty,” said the man. “If we’re to be in Tonbridge in time for the wagon there’s no time for dallying.”

“There’s time enough, and my feet won’t go a step farther.” The fat woman was smiling as she plumped herself down on the bank, and her husband had no choice but to do the same, for it was too hot to stand and argue.

“God be with you,” said the fat woman.

“God be with you,” murmured Tom and his companions, but they did not look at the newcomers; they kept their eyes fixed on the opposite bank. Unlike the fat woman they did not wish for roadside chatter; but the fat woman was one who usually achieved that which she desired.

“A pretty child …” she began.

The hunchback smiled and bowed her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.

“I’ve a weakness for little girls …”

“This … is a little boy,” said Nan, and her accent was unmistakably foreign.

“You sound like a foreigner,” said the woman.

“I am French, Madame.”

“French?” The man shot a suspicious glance at the party. “We don’t like the French much here.”

His wife continued to smile. “Lee says that when our King went and got married to a French wife the trouble started, and now look what she’s brought him to. That’s what you say, eh, Lee?”

“Where is she now?” demanded Lee. “In France … kicking up her heels and dancing the new dances, I’ll warrant. A fine wife she’s been to our King Charles and a fine brewing of trouble she’s brought him!”

“I’m sorry that the Queen should be French,” said Nan. “For myself I am a poor woman. My husband here and my child … with these two fellow servants, go to join our master. The poor in France are much like the poor in England.”

“There’s truth in that, I’ll swear,” said the woman.

“A master or a mistress says ‘Go here … Go there …’ and their servants must go … even if it is to service in another country. My husband is a valet to a gentleman. That is so, is it not, Gaston?”

Gaston agreed that it was so, in English slightly less fluent than that of the hunchback.

“And we all serve in the same household,” put in Nell.

“Ah,” said the man Lee, “there’s going to be a turnabout in this country ere long. Things will be different for some of us when the Parliament is victorious. We’re for the Parliament … as all the poor should be. Are you for the Parliament?”

“Please?” said the hunchback.

“For the Parliament,” said Lee in a louder tone.

“I do not always understand. I am not English. You will forgive me.”

Lee turned to Tom. “Are you French too?”

“No, I am English.”

“Then you’ll think as I do.”

“How old is the child?” interrupted Lee’s wife.

“He has two years,” said the hunchback. She had unconsciously laid her hand on the child.

“What a fine-shaped hand you’ve got,” said the woman. She studied her own gnarled one and its broken nails with a distasteful grimace.

“She’s a lady’s maid,” explained Nell.

“What! Dressing and curling the hair and sewing on ruffles. You’ll be used to high-life.”

“High-life?” said the hunchback. “What is that?”

“High society, balls and masques,” said Tom.

“Fine ladies and gentlemen making merry while the poor starves,” said Lee.

“I am sorry that that should be so,” said the hunchback gravely.

“’Tis no fault of yours. The poor stands together … times like these. Where are you making for?”

“We are joining our master’s household at Dover.”

“And all on foot!” cried Lee, “with a child to carry!”

“That’s how the rich look after their servants,” added his wife.

“We have to be there tomorrow,” said Tom, “to set the house in order. We’ve little time to lose.”

“A nice way to treat you!” the woman went on grumbling. “Walking all the way! Where have you come from?”

“Well …” began Tom; but the hunchback said quickly: “From London.”

“And carrying a child all that way!”

“The child is mine … mine and my husband’s,” said the hunchback. “We are glad to be able to have him with us.”

“Why,” said Lee, “you ought to get the stage wagon. That’s where we’re going now. To Tonbridge to catch the wagon.”

“Lee’s a much traveled man,” said his wife admiringly.

“Yes. I don’t mind telling you it’s not the first time I’ve traveled on the stage wagon. Once I went from Holborn to Chester … traveling the whole of six days. Two miles the hour and a halfpenny the mile, a wagoner to hold the horses and lead them all the way while you sat on the floor of the wagon like a lord. ’Tis a wondrous thing to travel. Hist! I think I hear riders coming this way.”

The hunchback shrank nearer to her friends as once again her hand hovered over the sleeping child. They were all silent for some seconds while the sound of horses’ hoofs grew louder; and soon a party of riders came into sight. They were soberly dressed and their hair scarcely covered their ears, thus proclaiming them to be soldiers of the Parliamentary forces.

“God go with you!” called Lee.

“God be with you, friend,” answered the rider at the head of the cavalcade.

The dust raised by the horses’ hoofs made the hunchback cough; the child started to whimper. “All is well,” murmured the hunchback. “All is well. Sleep on.”

“I heard,” said Lee’s wife, “that the King won’t hold out much longer. They say he’s gone to Scotland. He hadn’t a chance after Naseby. Best thing he could do would be to join the Frenchwoman in France.”

“Mayhap he would not wish to leave his country,” said Tom.

“Better for him to leave for France than the next world,” put in Lee with a laugh.

The child sat up and gazed at the Lees with an expression of candid distaste.

“All is well,” said the hunchback hastily. She put her arm round the child and pressed its little face against her.

“No, no, no!” cried the child, wriggling away.

“A fine temper,” said Lee’s wife.

“It’s so hot,” replied the hunchback.

“I see you spoil him,” said Lee.

“Let’s have a look at the little ’un,” said his wife. She took hold of the child’s ragged sleeve. The child tried to shake her off, but she only laughed, and that seemed to enrage the little creature. “You’re a spoiled baby, you are,” went on the woman. “You’ll never grow into a fine soldier to fight for General Fairfax, you won’t. What’s your name?”

“Princess,” said the child haughtily.

“Princess!” cried Lee. “That’s a strange name for a little boy.”

“It is Pierre, Monsieur,” said the hunchback quickly.

“That in English is Peter,” added Gaston.

“He does not speak the very good English,” went on the hunchback. “His words are not very clear. We talk to him sometimes in our own tongue … sometimes in English … and our English, as you see, Madame, is sometimes not very good.”

“Princess!” repeated the child. “Me … Princess!”

There was silence while all looked at the child. The Lees in puzzlement; the four companions of the child as though they had been struck temporarily lifeless. In the distance could be heard the sound of retreating horses’ hoofs. Then the hunchback seemed to come to a decision; she rose and took the child firmly by the hand.

“We must go,” she said. “We shall not reach our lodging by nightfall if we stay longer. Come, my friends. And good day to both of you. A pleasant journey and thank you for your company.”

The other three had risen with her. They closed about the child.

“Good day to you,” murmured the Lees.

The child turned to take a last look at them, and the big black eyes showed an angry defiance as the lips formed the words: “Princess. Me … Princess!”

They did not speak until they had put some distance between themselves and the man and woman on the bank. The hunchback had picked up the child so that they might more quickly escape.

At length Nell said: “For the moment I was ready to run.”

“That would have been unwise,” said the hunchback. “That would have been the worst thing we could have done.”

“If we could only make … the boy understand!”

“I have often been relieved because he is so young … too young to understand; and yet if only we could explain…. But how could one so young be expected to understand?”

The child, knowing itself to be the subject of discussion, was listening eagerly. The hunchback noticed this and said: “What will there be to eat at this inn of yours, Tom? Mayhap a little duck or snipe … peacock, kid, venison. Mayhap lampreys and sturgeon …”

“We must remember our stations,” said the hunchback.

The child wished to bring the conversation back to itself. The little hands beat the hunchback. “Nan … Nan …” said the child. “Dirty Nan! Don’t like dirty Nan.”

“Hush, dearest, hush!” said the hunchback.

“Want to go home. Want clean Nan … not dirty Nan.”

“Dearest, be good. Only a little while longer. Remember you are Pierre … my little boy.”

“Little girl!” said the child.

“No, dearest, no! You are Pierre … Pierre for Peter.”

“No Pierre! No Pierre!” chanted the child. “Dirty Nan! Black lady! Want to get down.”

“Try to sleep, my darling.”

“No sleep! No sleep!”

Two soldiers had rounded the bend and were coming toward the party, who immediately fell silent; but just as the two men drew level with them, the child called to them: “Me … Princess. Dirty frock … not mine … Me … Princess!”

They stopped. The hunchback smiled, but beneath the grime and dust her face grew a shade paler.

“What was it the little one said?” asked one of the soldiers.

It was the hunchback who answered. “Your pardon, Messieurs. I and my husband do not speak the English very well. Nor does our son. He is telling you his name is Pierre. That is Peter in English.”

One of the soldiers said: “I thought the boy said he was a Princess.”

The child smiled dazzlingly and chanted: “Princess! Princess! Don’t like black lady. Want clean Nan.”

The soldiers looked at each other and exchanged smiles. One of them brought his face near to that of the child. “So you’re a Princess, eh, young fellow?” he said. “I’ll tell you something.” He nodded his head in the direction of his companion. “He’s Oliver Cromwell and I’m Prince Charley.”

“Forgive, Monsieur,” said the hunchback quickly. “We mean no harm. We are walking to Dover to the house of our master.”

“To Dover, eh!” said the soldier. “You’re on the right road but you’ve many hours’ journey before you yet.”

“Then we must hasten.”

The second soldier was smiling at the child. “Listen to me, little ’un,” he said. “’Tis better in these days to be the son of a hunchback than the daughter of a King.”

“Ah, Messieurs!” cried the hunchback. “You speak truly. I thank God these days that I am a poor hunchback, for I remember there are others in worse case.”

“God’s will be done,” said the soldier.

“God be with you,” said the hunchback.

“And with you, woman. And with you all. Farewell, Princess Peter.”

The child began to wail as they continued along the road. “Me Princess. Want my gown. Don’t like dirty Nan.”

Again that silence; again that tension.

Nell said: “Can it go on? Shall we be so lucky every time?”

“We must be,” replied the hunchback grimly.