The Three Crowns Read online

  “They will be in bed now,” whispered Sedley.

  “All the better,” retorted Rochester.

  “All locked up securely for the night, chastity belts securely fastened, but His Highness the Prince of Orange will know the password. He will have the key.”

  Such laughter—all the more hilarious because it must be suppressed. Buckingham put his fingers to his lips and they all did the same.

  William felt the cool air on his face and this was the only intimation he had that he was out of doors. The fresh air revived him a little, made him feel as strong and brave as a lion.

  He stood with the group looking at the row of lighted windows.

  “How do we get in?” asked Rochester. “My Prince, pray tell us.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” said Buckingham. “Could it be through the windows?”

  “Yes,” said William and his voice sounded muffled. “Through the windows.”

  Sedley pressed a stone into his hands. “You will lead your men, Sire,” he said.

  William had never felt so happy. He forgot that he was smaller than most men, that he suffered from that humiliating asthmatical wheeze, that his clothes had to be cut in a special way to hide his deformities.

  He was a leader of men—and not in battles. These rakes of his uncle’s Court, who were noted for their brilliant wit and fascination were looking to him to lead them.

  He threw the stone. Laughing triumphantly he scrambled up the wall to the broken window.

  There were cries of alarm from within and faces appeared at the windows.

  Buckingham’s voice came from a long way off: “His Highness of Orange … a little merry. Looking for the ladies.”

  William had seen the girls’ faces and they seemed very fair and inviting. He was irresistible. Buckingham and his friends had said so.

  “I’ll not disappoint them,” he cried. “I’m going in.”

  The girls began to scream. There were the sounds of shouting and a lantern appeared among the revelers below. Then Buckingham seized the Prince’s legs and pulled him to the ground.

  “Your Highness, you are waking the Palace.”

  “I will not disappoint them. The maids are waiting for me. I will not disappoint them.”

  “Your Highness, we know of your reputation, but you are waking the Palace.”

  “I will share the bed of the fairest this night …”

  Sedley and Rochester took his legs, Buckingham and Savile his arms, and he was lifted off the ground.

  Now he was angry. He no longer cared for these men. They had promised him good sport and now they were standing in his way of getting it. He wanted to seduce a maid of honor. He knew now that he did not find women as uninteresting as he had believed; tonight had been an education and he wanted to complete it.

  The governess of the maids of honor had put her head out of the window.

  “Disgraceful!” she cried. “Her Majesty the Queen shall hear of this!”

  “Madam,” answered Buckingham, “we have done all we can to restrain His Highness. We fear he is a desperate fellow where the ladies are concerned.”

  “Then take him away from here,” was the answer. “Rest assured he will have to answer to Her Majesty.”

  The laughing courtiers, the shouting governess, and the struggling Prince of Orange made, declared all those who saw it, as goodly a sight as they had seen outside the playhouse. But what was most amusing was that the solemn prudish young Dutchman should be at the center of it.

  The King smiled sardonically at his nephew. A chastened William this, who understood that the previous night he had, for the first time in his life, become intoxicated and shown himself to be what no one—including himself—had suspected he might be: a budding libertine.

  “Sire,” said William, “I cannot express my sorrow …”

  “Then do not attempt to achieve the impossible, nephew. It is a waste of good time. But let me assure you, this is not a matter which causes me great sorrow—so nor should it you. A broken window is a small price to pay for experience; and last night you learned that nature has not denied you the normal instincts of a man. Would that the old lady had not awakened; then you might have enjoyed the fruit of your labors. I am sure you have made a good impression on the maids and doubtless one—at least—will find some means of assuring you that it is not necessary to break more windows.”

  “I fear, Sire, that my reputation is ruined.”

  “On the contrary, it is enhanced. A little light-heartedness is a blessing on all occasions.”

  “Your Majesty, I believe it is time that I had a wife.”

  “You are young yet. Why not enjoy the advantages of marriage and none of its disadvantages for a while?”

  “I shall not shirk the responsibilities of marriage, Sire,” answered William primly. “An alliance with my mother’s country would I believe be advantageous to both hers and mine.”

  “I’ll warrant you are thinking of your cousin Mary. Yes, of a surety, Mary! God’s fish, man, you would have to wait too long for the child. Do you know she is as yet eight years old?”

  “I would be prepared to wait.”

  Charles pretended to consider. What would his nephew say if he knew that he was on the point of signing an agreement with Holland’s greatest enemy, Louis XIV of France, one clause of which was that together they should declare war on the Dutch?

  “I can see you are a very patient young man.”

  William was excited. The King did not refuse him Mary. His thoughts ran on; he had to have an ambitious goal to help wash out last night’s disgrace. He was after all in the line of succession and marriage with Mary would put him several jumps ahead.

  Ever since he had come to England he had become obsessed by a desire to rule the country. He would sweep clean the Court of all its vice. England was a great country, with advantages denied to Holland, and he could be King of England, Scotland, and Ireland if he married Mary.

  And the King was not dismissing the idea.

  “Your Majesty, could I see my cousin?”

  Charles nodded. “I see no reason why you should not. She is at Richmond with her family. When you see her you will realize how young she is. Oh, William, do you want to wait some six or seven years for marriage?”

  “A good match is worth waiting for, Your Majesty.”

  “I see that you are a very wise young man; and judging by your nocturnal adventures you will know how to amuse yourself during the waiting.”

  Charles began to laugh and William allowed the corners of his own mouth to turn up. He had secretly decided never to come under the influence of wine again; but he was not displeased to be thought something of a gay gallant.

  When the King was riding with the Prince of Orange they found themselves near to Richmond, so it was natural that they should stop there.

  A pleasant family party was being enjoyed. The Duke of York, who had been indisposed, was spending most of his time at Richmond with his Duchess, who was clearly very ill, and their children were with them there.

  Charles strode into the Palace and there was the immediate bustle which was an essential part of a King’s arrival.

  But this, said Charles, was an informal occasion; he wanted no ceremony.

  He embraced his brother and his sister-in-law.

  “And where are the children?” he wanted to know.

  “They had all been playing a game together,” James explained, and sent one of the attendants to bring the little girls to His Majesty. Edgar had a slight fever and was in bed.

  William watched her as she came forward; a pretty girl, with dark ringlets and almond-shaped eyes, she was not in the least shy and appeared to be very sure of an affectionate welcome from her uncle.

  She kissed the King’s hand, at which he drew her to him. It was clear to William which one of the girls was the King’s favorite, although he was obviously fond of both of them.

  “Mistress Anne, you grow plumper every time I see you,” said C
harles. “Tell me, what do you do when you are not eating?”

  Anne tried to think. “I wonder what I shall have for dinner, Sire,” she said at length, which made them all laugh.

  “And now I’ll warrant you’re wondering who is this handsome young man whom I have brought to see you.”

  “He is not very handsome,” said Anne.

  “You are not old enough to appreciate his charms, my dear niece.” Charles was smiling at Mary who had seen the tightening of the young man’s lips; she knew what was expected of her.

  “Anne is a child,” she said. “She and I never agree.”

  The King’s hands gripped her shoulder and his dark face gleamed with pleasure.

  “Mary,” he said, “one day you shall have a seat on my Council. I knew that you and your cousin of Orange would be good friends. Take him to sit over yonder and talk to him. He would like to talk to you, and I must perforce speak to Mistress Anne and endeavor to persuade her that honey flavors words as pleasantly as sweetmeats.”

  As Mary smiled up at her cousin she heard Anne protesting: “But, uncle, we should always tell the truth, you know.”

  And Charles’s reply: “The truth is a slippery eel, Anne. When we use it toward others we call it honesty; when they use it toward us we call it bad manners.”

  Mary said: “You are my cousin from Holland. I knew that you were here.”

  “I am glad to meet you.”

  “I hope that you will stay long with us.”

  He liked her. She was tall, but as yet not as tall as he was—being only eight. She was physically attractive with her long almond eyes; a certain gaiety mingled with her gravity which he found pleasant.

  He wondered if she had heard about the escapade with the maids of honor, decided that she had not, and liked her better than ever.

  Her little brother was in bed with a fever; he had heard that he was a sickly child. The duchess was very ill, and looked to have death at her elbow; as for the King, he had been married ten years and had no child—although he had plenty of illegitimate sons and daughters.

  England was a powerful country; he was in the line of succession, but not so close as this girl.

  As he talked to Mary he made up his mind that, in due course, he might be very pleased to do her the honor of making her his wife. There was only one thing that caused him a little uneasiness. She was rather sure of herself. The manner in which she spoke to the King and her father betrayed that. Of course she had been indulged. Would she be a meek and docile wife, for he would accept no other.

  Yes, he believed he could mold her. Mary would, when she was of age, please him well as a wife.

  THE ORANGE BRIDEGROOM

  During the two years since his return from England William had remained on good terms with his uncles; but he had learned to be wary. His great enemy was Louis of France whom he knew wished to make Holland into a protectorate under France, which was something William would never accept. Spain was now an ally but not a reliable one, and William’s great hope was in England.

  There was one friend with whom he could talk without restraint; this was William Bentinck who resembled him in some ways; they had been drawn together when they had first met and William had found Bentinck serious, intelligent, in fact so much like himself that he might have been his brother. Bentinck, however, was less brusque than William; he was able to couch a demand diplomatically in a manner which William found impossible. He supplied a quality which William lacked and William was beginning to rely on him and kept him at his side.

  It was Bentinck who was with the Prince on that fateful day in the year 1672, two years after William’s visit to England.

  The two friends had been talking uneasily for England and France had become allies and were threatening Holland; there was a smoldering anger in William’s eyes as he faced his friend.

  “Traitors,” he said. “My own uncles! I believe that they had no intention of being my friends.”

  “They would if it was to their advantage.”

  “But they are ready to make senseless war.”

  “Not senseless from their point of view if they subdue us. I have always suspected that Charles was secretly trafficking with Louis.”

  “I hate Louis. I should hate Charles, but he is my uncle and when I am with him I find it impossible to do anything but like him.”

  “It is an effect he has on many, I believe. Therefore we should be especially wary.”

  William clenched his fists together and said: “Bentinck, what will happen now? I will never let Holland be conquered. If they would make me their Stadtholder …”

  “The de Wittes will never allow it. They cling to their power. They are determined as ever that the Stadtholderate shall not return to Holland.”

  “The Dutch Republic needs a leader. It needs me as once it needed my great-grandfather.”

  “I believe the people know it.”

  “But what use when they are ruled by the de Wittes. Who are these de Wittes? Why should they rule our country? What tradition have they? It should be Orange for the Dutch … as it used to be. And now, Bentinck, this war! I shall lead my men to victory. And then … come back to be ruled by … the de Wittes. Would to God I could be rid of that pair of brothers.”

  “They are too strong … as yet.”

  They heard sounds of arrival from below and Bentinck went to the window to see who had come to Dort.

  They were not left long in doubt. A messenger had arrived with a letter for William.

  He dismissed the messenger, read it slowly; then looked at his friend.

  “From de Witte,” he said. “It seems that the people are growing angry. They are threatening him and Cornelius. They’re blaming them for the war. Louis has five times our forces and they are blaming the de Wittes … who are afraid, Bentinck, because in the streets of The Hague the people are crying for Orange.”

  “Your moment has come.”

  William nodded his head. “They need me now. When disaster threatens they call for Orange. This is strange, Bentinck. The de Wittes are calling for Orange.”

  “How so?”

  William looked at the paper in his hands. “The people are gathering about their house. They are waiting for them to come out. The people of Holland are not easily aroused, Bentinck, but when they believe justice should be done they do it. The de Witte brothers are afraid. They are hinting great promises, Bentinck. If I go to The Hague I shall have this and that. If I go to The Hague … show myself to the people I will calm them, so they think. It’s true, Bentinck. I could go into those streets and disperse the crowds. Are they not calling for Orange?”

  “Then you will make haste to go?”

  William shook his head slowly.

  “Not yet, my friend,” he said. “Not yet.”

  The mob had lashed itself to a frenzy of hatred. Groups of angry people shouted together. “This,” they cried, “is what happens when two men seek to rule us. Who are these de Wittes? They have robbed us of our Prince and they have taken the titles themselves—only they do not use them. They assume all that goes with them though.”

  “Hurrah for Orange. Where is our Prince? Our Prince will lead us to victory. He will save Holland. He is William … like that other William. William of Orange. God bless the Prince.”

  And the more they shouted for William, the more angry they grew with those men who had robbed him of his position among them. Men felt for daggers at their sides; some carried cudgels. The de Wittes could not remain within the house forever. And if they did it was not impossible to force an entry. But let them come out. Let them see what a crowd of angry people had in store for them.

  They waited and grew impatient. But the de Wittes were not cowards. When it became clear that the Prince of Orange had no intention of coming to The Hague, they knew what they would have to do.

  John and his younger brother Cornelius understood what was in the other’s mind. They had done what they had done for the sake of Holland; they were
two men who had loved their country and believed that she needed to be free of a ruler who was such because his father was before him.

  “Are you ready, Cornelius?” asked John.

  “I am ready, brother,” was the answer.

  Calmly they walked into the street. A shout went up as they were recognized.

  “It is. It is!”

  “The brothers de Witte!”

  “Come, you brave men, what are you waiting for?”

  The crowd fell upon them.

  William came to The Hague with high excitement in his heart. This was the dream of a lifetime achieved.

  Holland was his to command; and the first thing was to wage war against her enemies. He was Stadtholder now, General of his armies and Admiral of his navy. That which he believed was his by right of his inheritance was returned to him; and all because two men—two good men he would admit, but two mistaken men—had been viciously murdered in the streets of The Hague.

  Bentinck said: “This is the turning point.”

  “At least,” answered William, “now I shall have a country to rule.”

  “It may be said in some quarters that you could have saved the de Wittes.”

  “My presence in The Hague might have done that. On the other hand the people hated them. They wanted me, Bentinck. The people love a Prince. They want no old men who have taken their place because of their shrewdness. They want a Prince and I am their Prince. It was a horrible murder and I suppose one should regret it, but to you I will confess that this deed has much relieved me.”

  “I trust you will not be so frank with others.”

  “Nay, when have I ever been over-frank? When have I talked when silence should be maintained? They called my great-grandfather The Silent. I think mayhap that is another virtue I have inherited from him.”

  Later he addressed his people while they shouted themselves hoarse for Orange.

  The times were stark, he told them. He had no soft words for them. Weary battles lay ahead of them. They had had false friends but at least now they knew who their enemies were, and they could trust him to lead them.

  “I will fight for Holland,” he told them, “and if necessary I shall die in the last dyke.”