“Do you really think that is all?”
Charles was thoughtful. “Danby thinks it should be investigated,” he said.
“What exactly are these people supposed to be plotting?”
“That is easy to answer. They want the removal of the Black Bastard — that is myself, as you know. Pope Innocent XI is to be the Supreme Head of the Church of England. The French are involved in this. Père La Chaise has lodged ten thousand pounds in London for anyone who will kill me, and there is another ten thousand promised by the Jesuits when the deed is done…and yet another six thousand from Savoy. So you see how valuable I am.”
“Please do not speak of it so flippantly. These scoundrels could harm you.”
He smiled at me tenderly. “The King is dead. Long live the King.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It is James who concerns me. I have often thought I was safe because they would never want to kill me, for if they did they would have to have James.”
“It seems that these people want James.”
“To be the papist puppet. The idea is that my death will be followed by those of my ministers. The French will invade Ireland…”
“Do you believe that?”
“I am inclined to believe that these two…Oates and Tonge…have put their heads together and invented the whole thing.”
“But this is criminal.”
“A natural way of life to such as they are. Poor Danby! His enemies are at his heels, you know. This gives them something else to think about. There is one thing, Catherine, you must not think for one moment…but perhaps I should not tell you.”
“Please tell me, I must know what it is.”
“They say that a sum of money has already been paid to a doctor in the household. It is to be his reward for poisoning me.”
“One of the doctors in the household! Do they say which one?”
He was silent for a moment. He looked at me apologetically.
“Well, it is nonsense, of course.”
“Who is it? Please tell me.”
“Sir George Wakeman.”
I felt faint. Sir George Wakeman was my physician.
I began to see that they were going to implicate me in this plot. Charles caught me as I swayed.
“You must not take it to heart,” he said. “It is a package of nonsense. These men are trying to call attention to themselves. It is clear what they are up to.”
“Sir George Wakeman is an honorable man.”
“Of course he is.”
“Does he know…?”
Charles shook his head. “We are going to prove it is nonsense. These men should be sent to the Tower for causing such a stir. I know this, but as I tell you, Danby wants to make an issue of it. You know his reasons. He is not going to let it drop easily. We do not know what they will come up with next.”
I could guess. They were going to implicate me in their schemes.
Charles made me sit down and he sat beside me and put an arm about me.
“You must not fret,” he said. “There will be these rumors. They are nonsense. We’ll prove them to be nonsense. I no more suspect Wakeman than you do. I am sure we shall be able to prove that this Oates is nothing more than a troublemaker.”
I felt better when I listened to him, but after he had left me my anxieties returned.
THERE WAS A FEVER OF EXCITEMENT in the streets. Titus Oates was the country’s savior. He had discovered the plot in time and we were saved from the wicked papists — or at least we knew what they were planning and would be able to foil them.
Danby was all for setting the findings before the Privy Council. Charles was against it.
“It would only put the idea of murdering me into someone’s head,” he said. “As for these tales about the papists, I simply do not believe them.”
I was not sure that Danby did either, but it made the diversion he needed. With the whole country worrying about the papists, there was little interest in the misdemeanors of one of the ministers.
I could imagine the disappointment of Titus Oates and his fellow conspirators when they realized the King refused to take them seriously. Oates told Tonge that he must make their declaration before a Justice of the Peace, since the King had not wished to go before the Privy Council. This was the duty of a good citizen, insisted Oates. So, accordingly, this was done. He and Tongue went to the offices of Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey and set their “discoveries” before him. They gave their oath on this, and, realizing the nature of their revelations, Sir Edmund decided that he must bring the matter to the notice of the Council.
This made it impossible for even the King to thrust it aside, and as a result Oates and Tonge were summoned to appear and substantiate their accusations.
I think this might have put an end to the matter, but for two events which favored Oates.
There had been a number of arrests after Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey had received the declaration, and among them was a certain Coleman, who had been a secretary to the Duchess of York.
However, Oates was not clever enough to deceive Charles, although the Council was inclined to be swayed by him.
The man had a certain eloquence, but he allowed himself to be carried away by his own rhetoric, and this led him into pitfalls.
After the meeting Charles came to see me. It was one of his most lovable traits that, knowing my fears — not only for myself but for my servants such as Sir George Wakeman — his aim at that time was to assure me that, unfaithful husband though he might be, he could be a loyal friend.
He was quite gleeful on this occasion.
“That fellow is a fraud,” he said. “I’ll grant him this much. He knows how to tell a good story, but he gets carried away by the drama of his own invention, and that is where he goes awry. He should join the players. I’ll warrant he could give them some rousing plays.”
“Tell me…what did he say?” I asked.
“Well, he began by telling us that the Jesuits had decided they would kill me and, unless James agreed to put himself in their hands, he would go the same way. Père La Chaise has paid over ten thousand pounds already to be given to the assassin when the deed was done. I asked him if he had been told this. ‘No, Sire,’ he answered. ‘I was attending a meeting in your service, Sire, in the disguise of one of them. I overheard the discussion and saw Père La Chaise hand over the money to the messenger who was to bring it to England.’
“I said to him, ‘Mr. Oates, you were most assiduous on my behalf and I thank you. Tell me, where was this transaction made?’ He replied, ‘In the house of the Jesuits.’ ‘And which one was that?’ I asked. ‘It was the one close to the Louvre, Sire.’ ‘That is odd,’ I replied, ‘I had a long sojourn in Paris, so I know that the Jesuits do not have a house within a mile of the Louvre.’”
“He was lying,” I said.
“Of course he was lying. One would have thought that was obvious. But how people love a good conspiracy. It was clear that they did not want to stop this ingenious Mr. Oates in his flow. He would have us believe now that, on our behalf, he had labored long and faced many difficulties, for he implied what his fate would have been if those fanatical Jesuits had learned that he was a spy for His Protestant Majesty of England. When he was in Spain, he went on to tell us, he had been received by Don John of Austria. Mind you, it had needed a great deal of cunning planning to reach that gentleman. ‘Do describe him to me,’ I said. ‘Oh, Your Majesty, he is a tall and lean man, and swarthy.’ ‘You surprise me,’ I replied, ‘for when I met him he was short, fat and fair.’ All this confirmed what I had suspected. Our Mr. Oates is a fraud…a man who is determined to call attention to himself…to earn notoriety…and fortune…no matter whom he destroys on the way to it.”