Part 22 (1/2)

Sarah bowed her head graciously.

”And I have been thinking,” went on the Queen, ”that it is only fitting that we should show our grat.i.tude, and how better than by bestowing on Mr. Freeman and yourself some fine estate.”

Sarah's eyes had begun to s.h.i.+ne.

”It would be a magnificent gesture,” she agreed, ”if we could persuade Mr. Freeman to accept it.”

”I am sure,” said Anne, with the glint of a smile, ”that if it is Mrs. Freeman's wish it will be Mr. Freeman's.”

”I may endeavour to persuade him,” agreed Sarah. ”What has Mrs. Morley in mind?”

”I was thinking of the Manor of Woodstock, a delightful place in a charming setting. It is my plan that that site might be used to build a house ... a palace ... for nothing else would be worthy to celebrate this great event ... for the use of Mr. and Mrs. Freeman and their heirs.”

”Woodstock,” murmured Sarah, subdued for once. ”It is an excellent spot.”

”Yes, a palace,” went on the Queen, ”which you and Mr. Freeman should plan together.”

Sarah's eyes were s.h.i.+ning now. A palace! A pile of stones, gracious and imposing, which in the centuries to come should be the home of the Marlboroughs.

”No expense should be spared in the building of this palace,” went on the Queen, seeing how excited her beloved Mrs. Freeman was becoming. ”It should be the gift of a grateful nation to its greatest general. I should only ask one concession.”

”Concession?” said Sarah.

”Yes, Mrs. Freeman, I would ask that it be called Blenheim Palace so that none should ever forget this famous victory and the man who was responsible for it.”

”Blenheim Palace,” repeated Sarah. ”I like it. I like it very much.”

INTRIGUE IN THE GREEN CLOSET.

obert Harley sat in his favourite spot at the Apollo Club, indulging his favourite pastime-drinking. Harley enjoyed the night-life of London. He liked the atmosphere of the clubs which were springing up all over the City. He even visited the coffee houses and taverns in order to exchange conversation with literary acquaintances who frequented them. Next to drinking he enjoyed talking, and when Harley talked others enjoyed listening; for he was witty, brilliant and persuasive, in spite of his discordant voice and hesitant delivery.

Since his new appointment-he had recently replaced Nottingham and become Secretary of State for the Northern Department-he still found time to mingle with his literary friends and if he was not at the Apollo he would be at the Rota, invariably accompanied by his friend and disciple, Henry St. John, who, naturally enough, had received an appointment at the same time as Harley and was the new Secretary at War.

They had made their way through streets in which the celebrations for the victory of Blenheim were at their height. The coffee houses were full of people sipping hot coffee, chocolate or Nants brandy. The taverns were even more crowded. There were already signs of drunkenness and as the evening progressed these would naturally increase. Harley, with St. John beside him, had had to push his way through the crowds.

The comparative peace of the Apollo was very pleasant, so was the taste of good brandy.

Harley looked sardonically at St. John and said: ”This could well be called Duke's Day. That screaming hysterical herd will crown the ducal head with laurels when he returns-the victorious conqueror. But remember they would as readily have screamed for that head to be cut from the ducal shoulders and placed at Temple Bar to be spat at and scorned, had the battle gone the other way. There's the mob for you, Harry.”

”Well, 'twas always so.”

”True enough. Nor was I intending to make an original observation in stating the obvious. No, I am merely asking you to observe an action natural to the hysterical screaming uneducated mob and to realize that since it is possible successfully to gauge its reaction, how easy it could be to control it.”

St. John looked intently at his mentor.

”Marlborough!” went on Harley. ”That name is on every tongue. The Great Duke! The Victorious Duke! The Victor of Blenheim! He disobeyed instructions from home and by great fortune-for him-he won his battle. Ah, if it had gone the other way. That screaming ma.s.s of ignorance would have torn him to pieces. And now, it would appear that we shall be ruled by the Marlboroughs.”

”And so have we been since Anne came to the throne, for does not Anne rule us, and is not Anne ruled by Sarah?”

”Ruled by women. Is it a healthy state of affairs, Harry? For I would take the sad story further and say that Marlborough is ruled by his wife-so we might all call ourselves Sarah's subjects.”

”Has the Queen no will of her own?”

”She has a stubbornness. She comes to a point when she makes up her mind and will not be turned from her opinion-even, I believe, by Sarah. One realizes this by the summing up of opinion which is repeated and repeated in face of all arguments. I often wonder whether even Sarah can break that down. And therein lies my hope.”

”Your hope, Master?”

”Well, do you wish to remain one of Sarah's subjects?”

”I loathe the woman, but while the Queen is besotted by her how can we help it?”

”There are always ways, my dear fellow. The Marlboroughs are supreme now ... at their peak, shall we say. Never can they climb higher than they are at this moment. Now is the time to a.s.sess their power, to find their weaknesses.”

”But ...”

”I know. I know. We are Marlborough's men. We are his proteges. To him we owe our advancement. He trusts us. Now we come to his weakness. It is never wise-in politics to trust anyone.”

”I have trusted you.”

”My dear fellow, we are travelling companions-we go together. Your support is useful to me; my influence is useful to you. We are not rivals. We move in unison. It is the Marlboroughs who are our rivals. If we are not careful we shall find that we must agree with Marlborough in all things-and that, like as not, means obeying Sarah-and if we do not, we shall be out.”

St. John shrugged his shoulders.

”You would accept this state of affairs? A great mistake, Harry. Never accept anything unless it is agreeable. Pray accept some more brandy for that at least you know to be agreeable without doubt.”

”So ... you intend to work against Marlborough?”

”You express yourself crudely. Let us say this, Harry, if we would advance we do not stand still. We go forward. We explore the territory and a.s.sess its advantages. Well, that is what I intend to do.”

”But how?”

Harley laughed. ”Can you not guess? I shall tell you then, because we are in this together, St. John. You know that as I march forward I take you with me. That's agreed, is it not?”

”We have worked together; you have helped me, encouraged me.”

”And when I receive my Government appointment you have yours. We're in harness, Harry. Don't forget. Now in what territory would you reconnoitre if you were surveying the coming battle? You are at a loss, Harry. That's rare with you. In the Queen's bedchamber, my dear fellow! That is the place. And the time is now. You will see I am ready to go into action.”

Glorious days! thought Sarah. Letters from Marl telling of his plans and his love for her. ”I would give up ambition, my hopes for future glory, for the sake of my dearest soul.” They were bound together again and there must be no more follies. She was certain that if by any chance there had been a little truth in the rumour Sunderland had reported to her, Marl had learned his lesson. He would never risk looking at another woman.

She had been down to look at the site for the new Palace. Woodstock was both delightful and romantic. There Henry II had dallied with the Fair Rosamond Clifford, and to avoid the jealousy of Queen Eleanor had had a bower built for her within a maze to which few had the clue. Eleanor determined to destroy her rival, arranged that a skein of silk be put in Rosamond's pocket that it should be unravelled as she walked through the maze, and thus Eleanor, following the silken clue, was led to the bower where she offered Rosamond a choice between a dagger or a bowl of poison.

Rumour! thought Sarah mockingly, knowing how rumour could arise. But the fact remained that Rosamond died soon after her liaison with the King was made known and there seemed little doubt that Eleanor had had a hand in it.

Sarah could well sympathize with the Queen. I'd be ready with the dagger and the poisoned bowl for any woman Marl preferred to me! she thought. But how foolis.h.!.+ He preferred only her. Did she not carry a letter in her pocket in which he told her so with the utmost emphasis.

The romantic past of Woodstock made even her imaginative. Here the Black Prince had been born; here Elizabeth had been imprisoned; Charles I had sheltered here after the Battle of Edgehill; but now in place of Woodstock there would be Blenheim, and when people pa.s.sed this way they would not think of Elizabeth or Charles or the Fair Rosamond-they would say: There is Blenheim which commemorates one of the greatest victories in English history made possible by England's greatest soldier.