The boys were summoned and the parade begun, and, the leek in his hat, Gloucester shouted orders and reviewed his men.
When the parade was over he was very tired and Mrs. Buss, who had been his mother’s nurse and was still attached to the royal nursery, said that he should rest for a while.
Gloucester did not care to take orders from his mother’s old nurse but he was exhausted and allowed himself to be led to his bed where he very soon fell into a deep sleep; and when he awoke began to shout orders to his men. His attendants rushing in saw at once that he had a fever.
The alarm spread through Campden House. The little Prince had been poisoned by handling leeks.
Sarah was sitting by Anne’s bed and her voice went on and on.
“It is a marvelous thing indeed that Marlborough should be allowed to return to Court, should be allowed to kiss those Dutch fingers, should be allowed to declare his loyalty … Oh, a marvelous thing indeed, but Marlborough has a better mission in life than to slobber over that Abortion’s fingers. What of Marlborough, I say? What position is he going to have at Court? None it seems. Is this the way Caliban keeps his promise?”
Anne answered: “It is a scandal, dear Mrs. Freeman. But I don’t trust Caliban, you know. So much and no more, is his way. He has offered me St. James’s Palace and for that I am grateful, but there is no suggestion that I should move in.”
“He offers it because he must. He is giving nothing away.”
“I am sure you are right, but it would be pleasant to be in St. James’s once more.”
“But to return to my Lord Marlborough. He should be given a chance to use his great talents.”
There was a knock at the door, and Sarah swept to it in indignation. “Do you not know that the Princess and I wish to be alone together. What disturbance is this? Go away.”
“My lady, there is news from Campden House.”
“I have told you …”
Anne’s voice broke in imperiously. “News from Campden House! Pray bring the messenger in. I trust my boy is well.”
“Your Highness, the Duke is in a fever. We fear he has been poisoned by the smell of leeks.”
“Poisoned!” cried Anne. “Call my chair, Lady Marlborough. Send for Dr. Radcliffe. Quickly … without delay. I must go to Campden House.”
“Radcliffe is in Oxford,” began Sarah coldly.
“Send to Oxford. I know Radcliffe to be the best man. My chair. Send for it at once and tell my bearers that I must be carried without delay to Campden House.”
Sarah obeyed, fuming. How maddening these delays were. When, oh when, would she be able to get her John where he deserved to be!
Dr. Radcliffe arrived in due course, and pronounced that the little Duke was suffering from a fever. The boy was bled and in a few days began to recover.
Dr. Radcliffe, however, recommended rest for a week or more, for the little patient after the first recovery developed a slight fever again.
“Keep him in bed,” said Radcliffe, “and keep him amused there.”
When Anne, at the bedside of her son, asked what her darling wanted most, the answer was prompt: “My soldiers. Let them guard the bedchamber. Let Harry Scull come to me. I wish him to do a tattoo on his drum and I will select those who shall build the fortifications about my bed.”
“My dearest boy, should you not rest?”
“How can I, Mama, when I have to be protected by my men.”
“There is nothing to protect you from.”
The boy’s face crumpled then brightened. “Those who will one day wear the crown are always in need of protection.”
Dr. Radcliffe said in his brusque way: “These amusements will do no harm, if he stays in bed.”
“Send my men,” said the Prince, “and I promise to stay in bed.”
So at the Prince’s door were posted his guards, who marched back and forth and challenged all those who would enter. Enough, said Mrs. Buss, to drive you mad, when you came along with a posset to find a wooden sword flourishing under your nose and the basin all but knocked out of your hands.
“Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe?”
“Friend, you silly boy. I’ve a posset for His Highness.”
“Pass, but you will have to make your way through the fortifications.”
“Drat the fortifications!” said Mrs. Buss.
She and others would have complained, but they knew it was no use. Dr. Radcliffe had wanted the patient to be amused and so they had rowdy boys, playing soldiers all over the place.
Not content with his soldiers, Gloucester called in his attendants and coachmen to take messages as he said through the lines. Lewis Jenkins was always ready to throw himself into the game; Mr. Pratt, Gloucester’s tutor, was pressed into service; and the two that amused Gloucester most were coachmen Dick Drury and Robin Church.
The language of these two was full-blooded and Gloucester liking it, learned it quickly.
“Confound you!” Gloucester would cry. “God damn you, man, can’t you see that gap in the fortifications? By God, I damn you to hell.”
All the young soldiers took up such cries to the concern of Lady Fitzharding, Mrs. Buss, and others.
Mrs. Buss remembered that a short time ago the Duke had delighted to receive wooden figures of great soldiers in battle-dress; and she believed that if he were presented with a very fine specimen, he might play with this and be lured from his rougher games.
She bought a magnificent figure of a soldier and summoned one of the Duke’s coachmen, a man named Wetherby, to take it to the sickroom with her compliments.
When Wetherby arrived, the Duke was sitting up in bed surrounded by a dozen or so of his “men.”
The Duke heard his guards outside his door halting the arrival, demanding to know whether he was friend or foe and what his mission was.
Wetherby said in a voice which was audible in the sickroom: “I’ve brought His Highness a toy from Mrs. Buss.”
All the young soldiers clambered off the bed and stood at attention.
“Bring him in,” ordered the Duke.
Wetherby came in and laid the doll on the bed. “Mrs. Buss thought Your Highness would like this to play with.”
Gloucester lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. “Escort the messenger from my apartments,” he said coldly.
Wetherby, agreeing with Mrs. Buss that these boys’ games were enough to drive you mad, left as soon as he could.
As soon as he had gone, Gloucester said: “This is an insult from the enemy. Call a Council of War without delay. Confound it, this is an insult which shall not pass unheeded. A toy to play with! I gave up toys last year!”
The Council was held about the bed, and the order for execution given; the doll was immediately torn to pieces with shouts which echoed through the Palace.
“The bearer was insolent,” said the Duke, thinking regretfully that he dared not punish Mrs. Buss. “He should not go unpunished. Let us decide on his sentence.”
It was decreed that Wetherby should undergo the water torture; and the next day when he appeared at the Palace he was seized by some fifty small boys. They dragged him to the floor, clambered all over him, and bound his feet and hands together. Then they brought water with which they doused him until, breathless and panting, he begged them to desist.
They then tied him on the great wooden horse which they wheeled into the Duke’s bedroom, headed by Harry Scull’s drumbeats.
“Your Highness’s orders have been carried out,” announced the herald. “Here is the prisoner for your inspection.”
Gloucester sat up in bed, shaking with laughter—a supreme commander.
Dr. Radcliffe was anxiously questioned by the Princess.