Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"I cannot get at you through your father," he said to her, "but I can
and will through your sister. You care nothing for the old
hot-gospeller; well, I can forgive you for that. But this sister of
yours, well, you have suffered much for her already, and would suffer
more. Ah, yes, pretty Constance, I see through you. To avert suspicion
from her you have e'en gone abroad as the wife of this Denman; you have
fetched and carried for him like a dog. Well, now, to save her, you
shall e'en do as much and more for your king. For if you will not, I
will make this sister of thine--but I will not speak of that now. You
will be wise, and do my will. Now then, Master Roland Rashcliffe, you
say you can shrewdly guess where this other daughter of John Leslie is.
Tell me, I command you."
The king was gazing eagerly at me as he spoke, but instead of returning
his look I turned for a moment towards Constance, and I saw that her
eyes were imploring me not to speak. But there was no confidence in them
now; rather there was a great fear. She could depend on her own
fortitude, but not on mine.
"I trust Your Majesty will not insist on this," I said.
"And why, Master Malapert?"
"Because I cannot obey your command."
He took a step towards me as if in anger, but he stopped suddenly, and
then I saw a change come over his face. The old cunning leer came back
to his eyes again, the wine-inflamed, passionate man had gone, and
instead I saw the cynical mocking man I had seen land at Dover.
He sat down on a low chair, and began to fondle his lap-dog, glancing at
us both curiously as he did so.
"I am indeed fortunate," he said. "Mostly my servants say they will obey
me, and then seek to have their own will, while you say you will not
obey me and will have to do so in spite of all. Moreover, this youth
said he had no favour to ask at my hands. Well, and what game are you
playing, young master?"
"I am trying to be an honest man," I replied.
"Prithee come a little closer, for surely thou art a rare sight," he
said. "For twelve years I have been trying to find an honest man and a
virtuous woman, and up to now I have discovered neither."
"And yet your mother is alive, sire," I said.
Again his eyes flashed fire, and I thought he was going to call his
servants, and order that I should be thrown in some dungeon. But again
he mastered himself.
"I have not made up my mind whether I shall give you the cap and bells,
or send you to the most stinking dungeon in Fleet Prison, Master
Rashcliffe," he said quietly. "But of that anon; at present I am vastly
enjoying myself. There is some reason in your mind which makes you think
you can answer your king as you have answered him. You fancy you have
some secret power over him. Come now, speak!"
"That need not be Your Majesty. I was ever taught that a man's duty was
to protect a woman."
Again he eyed me keenly, and presently he laughed quietly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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