Read Online The Best of Men by Claire Letemendia - Free Book Online

disapproving glance at the platter that Falkland had barely touched, Stephens went to fetch their cloaks and hats, and accompanied his master over the short distance to the royal apartments.
    In the end Falkland was early. He found His Majesty alone with Lord Digby. This immediately set Falkland’s nerves on edge: if hehad to pick a single man he could hold responsible for the widening chasm between King and Parliament it would be George Digby, who seemed to change political colour as readily as a chameleon. Over the past year Falkland had been noting apprehensively the ease with which Digby had managed to insinuate himself more and more into the King’s favour.
    “As I said at the g-gates of Hull,” the King was remarking in his soft Scottish accent, punctuated with a mild stammer, “let all the world now judge who b-began this war.”
    “Your Majesty,” Digby said, “no one could honestly accuse you of sparing any effort to prevent armed conflict. You have been provoked beyond measure, and yet still you hold out the olive branch to your unworthy subjects.” He broke off on seeing Falkland, who bowed to them both. “How are you, Lucius?” Digby cried, addressing Falkland as ever by his Christian name. Such unusual familiarity irked Falkland, even though he guessed this was Digby’s intention.
    “I am in good health, thank you, my lord,” he said, feeling awkward beside Digby’s suave and graceful presence. “And I am gratified to learn that the olive branch remains on offer, Your Majesty,” he continued, which the King acknowledged with a benign smile.
    “I wonder what Prince Rupert will think of that when he arrives,” Digby said, playing with one of his blond lovelocks.
    “Have you news of your nephew from Holland, Your Majesty?” Falkland inquired.
    The King’s face instantly brightened. “Yes, indeed. We may expect him and his brother Prince Maurice to land here any day – that is, if they are not stopped by Parliament.”
    “Such a bold young man will outstrip any attempt of the rebels to seize his ship,” declared Digby.
    “Then he will have better fortune than you did on your late return from Holland,” Falkland said, at which the King began to laugh.
    “My fate was cruel indeed!” Digby lamented. “First to be caught sailing in so humble a vessel as a fishing ketch, and then the sheer indignity of being taken in chains as a prisoner of Parliament to Hull! But you must admit that I did good business there,” he concluded, smiling again. “I almost had the Governor hand me the keys to the city.”
    “Almost but not quite,” said Falkland. “Once the effect of your silver tongue wore off, he did not long remain persuaded that he should surrender the port to us.”
    “It crossed his mind, however – and he
was
persuaded to release
me
.”
    A fate less cruel than would have befallen you, had he surrendered you to Parliament
, Falkland was tempted to rejoin.
    “As for his Royal Highness Prince Rupert,” Digby went on, “it was such a delight, all that time we spent together with Her Majesty in The Hague – nigh on six months.”
    “You must have got to know him well,” the King said eagerly; he had not seen his beloved nephew since the prince visited England as a youth, Falkland remembered.
    “I should say so, Your Majesty. He is very forthright in his manners, as one might imagine, since he has spent most of his twenty-three years in army service, and very handsome, too. He will make a splendid commanding officer, an inspiration to all those other bold young men who are flocking to the royal cause.”
    And an irritation to the older ones, Falkland thought. “His Highness the Prince will not appreciate, then, that we intend to continue in our peace talks,” he said.
    A haughty expression came over the King’s face. “My Lord Falkland, we do share in your eagerness to avert a war, but how many times must we s-suffer to be insulted by Parliament’s Commissioners? I am afraid