That was enough to inspire young Monmouth’s passion, for it was necessary for him continually to flaunt what he felt to be his superiority over his uncle. He must do it in every possible way, so that all—including James, Duke of York—should realize that, should King Charles die without legitimate heirs, James II would not be James, Duke of York, but James, Duke of Monmouth.
Now, as he walked about his apartment, he was ranting to his companions on what he called an insult to royalty.
Sir Thomas Sandys was with him; also a Captain O’Brien. He had called these men in because he wished them to help in a wild plan which was forming in his mind. His great friends, the young Dukes of Albemarle and Somerset, sprawled on the window seat listening to Jemmy’s ranting.
“My father is too easy-going by far!” cried Monmouth. “He allows low fellows to insult him—and what does he? He shrugs his shoulders and laughs. It is all very well to take that attitude, but insolence should be punished.”
“His Majesty’s easy temper is one of the reasons for the love his people bear him,” suggested Albemarle.
“A King should be a King,” said Monmouth boldly.
None spoke. Monmouth, as beloved son, had a right to criticize his father which was denied to them.
“Have you fellows heard what this insolent Coventry said in the Parliament?”
All were silent.
“And who is this John Coventry?” demanded the young Duke. “Member for Weymouth! And what is Weymouth, I pray you tell me? This obscure gentleman from the country would criticize my father and go free. And all because my father is too lazy to punish him. ’Tis an insult to royalty, I tell you; and if my father will not avenge it, then should his son do so.”
The Duke of Albemarle said uneasily, “What was said was said in the Parliament. There, it is said, a man has a right to speak his mind.”
Monmouth swung round, black eyes flashing, haughty lips curled. “A right … to speak against his King!”
“It has been done before, my lord,” ventured Somerset. “What this man Coventry did was to ask that an entertainment tax should be levied on the theaters.”
” ’Twas a suggestion worthy of a country bumpkin.”
“He proposed it as a means of raising money, which all agree the country needs,” said Somerset.
“My good fellow, the King must be amused. He loves his theaters. Why should he not have his pleasures? The theaters give much pleasure to His Majesty.”
“That was said in Parliament,” said Albemarle grimly.
“Aye,” cried Monmouth. “And ’twas then that this John Coventry—Sir John Coventry—rose in his seat to ask whether the King’s pleasure lay among the men or the women who acted therein.”
“’Twas an insult to His Majesty, ’tis true,” admitted Albemarle.
“An insult! It was arrogance, lese majesté. It shall not be permitted. All the country knows that the King finds pleasure in his actresses. There are Moll Davies from the Duke’s and Nell Gwyn from the King’s to prove it. Coventry meant to insult the King, and he did so.”
“His Majesty has decided to allow the insult to pass,” said Albemarle.
“But I shall not allow it to pass,” cried Monmouth. “I shall make these country bumpkins realize that my father is their King, and any who dare insult him shall live to regret that day.”
“What does Your Grace plan?” asked Sir Thomas Sandys. “That, my good friends, is what I have assembled you here to discuss,” said the Duke.
The King was very uneasy. He sought out his brother James in his private apartments.
James was sitting alone, a book before him.
James, thought Charles, so tall and handsome—far handsomer than I—and clever enough in his way; why is it that James is a fool?
“Reading, James?” said Charles lightly. “And the book?” He looked over his brother’s shoulder. “Dr Heylin’s History of the Reformation. Ah, my Protestant subjects would be pleased to see you reading such a book, James.”
James’ big dark eyes were puzzled.
He said: “I find much food for thought ‘twixt these pages.”
“Give over thinking so much, James,” said Charles. “It is a task ill-suited to your nature.”
“You mock me, Charles. You always did.”
“I was born a mocker.”
“Have you read this book?”
“I have skimmed its pages.”
” ’Tis worth more than a skimming.”
“I am glad to hear you say so. I trust this means your feet are set in what my Protestant subjects would call the path of the just.”
“It fills me with doubts, Charles.”
“Brother, when I die you will inherit a crown. The managing of a kingdom will take every bit of that skill with which nature has provided you. You will be at your wits’ end to keep the crown upon your head, and your head upon your shoulders. Remember our father. Do you ever forget him? I never do. You are over-concerned with your soul, brother, when your head may be in danger.”
“What matters a head where a soul is in the balance?”
“Your head is there for all to see—a handsome one, James, and that of a man who may well one day be King. Your soul—where is that? We cannot see it, so how can we be sure that it has any existence?”
“You blaspheme, Charles.”
“I’m an irreligious fellow; I know it. ’Tis my nature. My mind is a perverse one, and to such as I am faith is hard to come by. But put away the book, brother. I would talk to you. ’Tis this affair of Coventry.”
James nodded gloomily. “A bad affair.”
“Young Jemmy grows too wild.”
“The fellow will live?”
“I thank God that he will. But those wild young men have slit his nose and the Parliament is filled with anger.”
“’Tis to be understood,” said James.
“I am in agreement with you and the Parliament, James. But my Parliament is displeased with me and it is a bad thing when parliaments and kings are not of one accord. We have a terrible example before us. When I came home I determined to live in peace with my subjects and my Parliament. And now young Jemmy has done this. He was defending my royalty, he proclaims.”
“That boy has such a deep sense of Your Majesty’s royalty, largely because he believes himself to have a share in it.”
“’Tis true, James. There are times when young Jemmy gives me great cause for anxiety. The Parliament has passed an act whereby any who shall put out an eye, cut a lip, nose, or tongue of His Majesty’s liege people or in any other manner wound or maim any Parliament man, shall be sent to prison for a year, besides incurring other heavy penalties.”
“’Tis just,” said James.
“Aye, ’tis just. Therefore I like not to see young Jemmy conduct himself thus.”
“A little punishment, inflicted by Your Majesty, might be useful.”
“Indeed it might. But I was never a punishing man, James, and I find it hard to punish those I care for as I do for that boy.”
“Nevertheless he will bring trouble on himself, and on you one day.”
“That is why I wish you to help me, James. Could not you two be friends? I like not to see this strife between you.”
“’Tis your natural son who causes the strife between us. He fears I shall wear the crown to which, in his heart, he believes himself to have prior claim.”
“There is only one thing which can make you two become friends, I fear; and that is a family of healthy sons for me, so that there is no hope for either of you to wear the crown.”
“Charles, there are some who say you love that boy so much that you would make him your heir in all things.”