"And what happened then?" asked Kate.
"For that," added Maggie, "we shall have to wait and see."
That was a typical scene during that time.
It seemed then that there was always some dramatic happening going on to give us exciting topics to discuss.
Maggie certainly had dramatic talents and there was nothing she enjoyed more than using them for Kate. She told her stories with the dramatic skills of an actress and her reward was Kate's obvious enjoyment. But the gossip we heard was not always as lighthearted as the affair of Captain Blood.
A few months before, there had been a notorious brawl in the streets, of which Kate had been told nothing. It was an ugly scene and concerned the Duke of Monmouth.
We heard a great deal about Monmouth during those days.
The Queen had not so far produced an heir and that meant of course that, if the King should die, the Duke of York, his brother, would be the next King.
The Duke was charming—though not as charming as the King; he was a good sailor whose love affairs were as numerous as those of his brother, but although he was a good and kindly man, he was not noted for his wisdom.
An instance of this was his frank and open admission of Catholicism. That would not have been so important but for his position. There was a tremendous aversion to the Catholic faith throughout the country, and it had been so ever since the reign of Mary Tudor, who had sent so many of her subjects to the stake because they did not share her beliefs. Never again, the majority of the people said; and here was the man who could well inherit the throne publicly announcing his adherence to the Catholic faith.
It was a foolish thing to do. But it seemed that, to a man of James's faith and honesty, it was necessary to make this known. This might be laudable from some points of view, but it was causing a great deal of disquiet in the country.
And because of this, the King's son, the Duke of Monmouth, was showing himself more and more to the people. He was stressing his devotion to the Protestant faith, and implying that they need have no fear, for if the King died without leaving a legitimate son or daughter to follow him, there was always his natural son— the Duke of Monmouth. Indeed, there were many who wanted to believe that there had been a marriage between Charles and Lucy Walter, the Duke's mother, in which case was he not the true heir to the throne?
Sometimes I was aware of the uneasiness in the streets of London. The people did not want another civil war—it was not so very long since the Cavaliers and Roundheads had destroyed the peace of the countryside and brought death to many Englishmen with their battles.
I had never forgotten my first, and at that time only, glimpse of the Duke of Monmouth when he had visited the theater. It seemed years ago now. He had staged his entrance, and had arrived immediately after the King so that all might be aware of him, for he had glanced familiarly up at the royal box and the King had smiled on him.
Now he had been involved in a vicious brawl, about which Maggie felt terribly indignant. She could not have made a light-hearted charade of this as she had of Captain Blood's escapade.
It was a custom among some of the young men of the court to roam the streets after dark in search of adventure and there was a great deal of gossip at this time concerning the King's interest in actresses—in particular Moll Davis and Nell Gwynne. The government was proposing to levy a tax on playhouses and the theaters had come under discussion in Parliament. During the debate. Sir John Coventry, Member for Weymouth, commented that he wondered where the King's pleasure in the playhouse lay—was it in the plays or in the women who acted in them?
Although everyone was aware of the King's delight in these ladies—and others—Sir John's remark was considered an insult to the King and many thought Coventry should not be allowed to talk in such a manner. Monmouth was among them, but he did not confine his indignation to words. Like so many whose claim to royalty was somewhat flimsy, he was particularly assiduous in his desire to defend it.
One night, with a party of young men, including the Duke of Albemarle, the Duke of Monmouth waylaid Sir John's carriage, set upon Sir John, dragged him from his carriage and slit his nose to the bone.
It might have been the end of the Member for Weymouth, had not a beadle heard the commotion and hurried over to see what was happening. It was his duty to keep order and, shocked and horrified by what he saw, he attempted to do his duty. In the scuffle that followed, he was killed.
Sir John had escaped with a mutilated face, but the poor beadle was murdered, a grave matter.
However, the perpetrators of the crime were never brought to justice, although everyone knew that the Duke of Monmouth was concerned. It was said that it was an example of the King's great love for his bastard son, and there was an undercurrent of speculation whether, if the Duke of York persisted in his determination to practice the Catholic faith and the Queen failed to produce a child, Monmouth, with his allegiance to the Protestant faith, which he never failed to show, might inherit the throne.
However, that was far in the future. The King was radiantly happy, stronger than most men. It was one of the sights of the town to see him sauntering in the park with his friends, such as the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Rochester, his little dogs at his heels. People used to say that all was well while King Charles reigned over them. He liked people to be happy; he was not concerned with forcing them this way and that. Let them worship God in whatever way they wished, so long as they caused him no trouble. All he wanted was a pleasant existence and the peace to enjoy it. Most of his subjects agreed with him, and they were very satisfied with their King.
But the Duke of York was causing more concern. His wife had died and he was seeking a new bride.
The people loved a royal wedding. It meant ceremony, holidays and revelry in the streets. But they did not want a Catholic wedding. There was something ominous about that. And it was typical of James that he should choose a Catholic bride; he was to marry Mary of Modena, a girl of thirteen. Negotiations had been satisfactorily concluded and she was shortly coming to England.
"A royal wedding," murmured the people. "But a Catholic."
However, the King was lusty and hearty. He would get an heir soon. Moreover, a wedding was a wedding, and as it was the Duke of York's, there would be celebrations. They were determined to enjoy them.
Kate was very excited about the royal wedding. She wanted to hear all about it and why some people did not seem to think it w^as right.
"Oh," said Maggie. "There'll always be some to find fault. Poor child. Fourteen, they say. It's too young. And him ... why, he must be forty. Well, it is not for us to judge, I will say that. But poor child."
Kate was now six years old, more eager than ever to know what was going on around her. I was noticing more and more that Maggie w^as aging. She was far from young, but she had always been so full of health and energy. She complained, though not very much, more to explain her slowness of movement rather than anything else. There were creaks in her knees, she said, and sometimes I could see that she was in pain. I tried to make sure that she did not carry heavy loads or do too much about the house; but this had to be achieved with the utmost care. The last thing Maggie wanted was that we should be aware of her ailments.