Brennan Pursell - Spanish Match

THE SPANISH MATCH

BY
BRENNAN PURSELL

SOPHIA INSTITUTE PRESS
Manchester, New Hampshire

Copyright 2011 Brennan Pursell
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved
Cover design by Carolyn McKinney

On the cover: detail from Prince Charles Louis, Elector Palatine, and His Brother, Prince Rupert of the Palatinate, by Sir Anthony van Dyck, Louvre, Paris, France / Giraudon / The Bridgeman Art Library.

This is a work of fiction inspired by true events and persons, portrayed according to the authors interpretation and understanding. Any resemblance to any living person is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Sophia Institute Press
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pursell, Brennan C., 1967The Spanish match / by Brennan Pursell.p. cm.ISBN 978-1-933184-77-7 (pbk. : alk. Paper) 1. Great Britain History James I, 1603-1625 Fiction. 2. Spain History Philip IV, 1621-1665 Fiction. 3. Religious fiction.I. Title. PS3616.U7235S63 2011 813.6 dc222011027274

First printing

PROLOGUE

Sunday, January 28, 1649

W illiam Juxon, Bishop of London, closed the prayer book on his lap and lifted his chin to look at his king, Charles Stuart, of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Charles noticed the bishops trembling upper lip. Amen, and I thank you, Juxon, the king said soothingly. He took in a slow breath, and his palms closed on the cold arms of his simple, wooden chair. Will you be with me, on the scaffold?

Yes, Your Majesty. Till the end.

The king watched the bishops eyes search his own, darting back and forth, as if looking for signs of weakness. Charles turned his head to one side and surveyed the blackened oak walls and ceiling of what had once been a fine bedchamber, fit for a king, in the palace of St. James. A sudden gust of wind outside clawed at the dingy panes of the broad windows. Across his face and over the backs of his palms, he felt an unsteady, icy draft seeping into the room from underneath the battered door.

The view of Westminster is pleasing when the sun shines, the king said, pausing to wipe his running nose with a crumpled, soiled linen kerchief. They have kept me in court for the best part of these last days. I wish I could see St. Pauls from here. He craned his stiff neck toward the window, and a shiver ran up his spine. In the hearth, three twisted green logs hissed weakly on a bed of ashes and dying embers.

The king pulled tight the collar of his heavy, black, brocaded silk doublet, and with the other hand, he smoothed the frayed woolen blanket wrapped around his black hose, stockings, and slippered feet. The coarse cover stank of old closets and sweaty soldiers, but it was too cold to do without.

They delight in disturbing my privacy, Charles said lightly. Several times, every day, they throw open the door and blow in tobacco smoke. So it is surprising that they let you complete your service without interruption.

It pains me to hear it, the bishop said, bowing his head slightly.

Stay with me awhile, until supper comes. Then I shall eat whatever they give me, alone.

May it please Your Majesty.

For several minutes the king stared at the flames of two smoking tallow candles struggling against the same drafts that pestered his body. Once or twice they nearly gave up, losing their tall golden crowns as their shuddering blue bodies crumpled onto their wicks, but each time they survived and rose again, smoking in the face of their attackers.

There is cause for hope, Your Majesty, the bishop said.

King Charles gave him an incredulous look. What say you, Juxon? In this world my life is quite finished.

Your Majesty, letters come each day, from all quarters, begging to spare you. The Prince of Wales has informed the House of Commons that he will accept any terms they wish to impose, if they but revoke the sentence. Some of Parliaments most notorious supporters have submitted pleas on your behalf.

The king gently shook his throbbing head. It is all for nothing. Do not delude yourself. The madmen who destroyed my state will not be content until they have my head. That was clear before that charade of a trial began. He rubbed his brow with the cold, stiff fingers of his right hand. My worry now is what they will do after I am gone, to my people, and my children...

Your Majesty should not give up hope in the Lord.

The kings hand left his forehead and settled on the arm of his chair. Oh, I have not. That is my only hope, Gods forgiveness and life everlasting.

The bishop nodded in approval. Should it come so far, he said in almost a whisper, Your Majesty will exchange an earthly crown for a heavenly one.

The king sat up higher in his seat. Yes, that is my prayer, and consolation.

The captain of the guard told me that Your Majesty will be able to see the Duke of Gloucester and Princess Henrietta Anne tomorrow, the bishop said with a lift in his voice.

The king smiled at the thought of the two youngest of his six children. That will be a final pleasure. He grimaced. Do you expect them to make a king of little Henry? The boy is not yet ten years old.

The bishop looked him in the eye but made no reply, and Charles continued, If they do, it will give them grounds to execute an innocent child. Thanks be to God that my queen rescued the others.

The king felt a pang in his gut as he wondered what would become of his beloved wife, but she was safe at her brothers royal Court, for now. Charles returned his gaze to the candles and tugged gently at his full, dark beard, which he had let grow for the past three months, in anticipation of the end. He was rather proud of the silver streaks.

Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, if I may... Whence came these troubles?

Charles arched an eyebrow and glared at him, but did not speak.

Please, forgive me, Your Majesty, the bishop pleaded, if I am to tell the truth about these sad circumstances, can you tell me when the contagion first appeared in the body of your state?

The king gave him the penetrating look he knew none of his subjects, the loyal ones, could meet or match.

I fear I offend, Juxon said and lowered his head. I do not mean to suggest that Your Majesty is responsible for

No, no, mistakes were made, that cannot be denied, Charles said quickly, but the troubles did not commence in my reign. He added in a more magisterial tone, In the past months I have had time to... recollect, and... pose the same question.

The king closed his eyes against all the painful humiliation, the awesome, towering failure he suffered, and for a moment he saw nothing but the flickering purple blur of the candlelight passing through his eyelids. Then he was back in venerable Westminster Hall, under that magnificent, hammer-beam roof, facing the worst perversion of justice he had ever seen in all his life, the rebels so-called High Court of Justice. He was back on the small dais, surrounded by reeking, greasy soldiers, set opposite several rows of long benches full of Puritans, in their broad-brimmed hats and black-and-white robes, masquerading as judges. Now they were not sitting as usual, their sullen faces filled with spite, but they stood, shouting and gesticulating in the most unseemly manner. Their rasping cries turned Charless stomach.

Stifle the House of Stuart, down through the generations! Murderer! Godless tyrant! Traitor! Man of blood! Vile papist! NO MORE KING!

Charles, shaking his head, replied, I stand for the liberty of the people of England!

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