In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗

“The Emperor,” he said, “is considering the escape.”

My spirits rose. I had to face the danger of leaving England, but when one has lived in fear of death for many months, action is desirable.

Van der Delft said we should need the cooperation of people whom we could trust. I understood that. I told him that Sir Robert Rochester had always been a good friend to me, that he was a staunch Catholic and I would trust him with my life.

Van der Delft had the same opinion of Sir Robert, and we called him in to tell him of the plan.

He said he had feared for my safety for some time and was glad that I was to be taken away. He would do anything he could to help. He had a friend who had a boat. The boat could sail up the River Blackwater as far as Malden, which was close by Woodham Water, the house in which I was at this time staying. The boat could carry me out to a Flemish ship which would be waiting at sea.

“Can we trust this man?” asked Van der Delft.

“Yes. And he would not know it was the Princess he was taking. He would just see a figure in a concealing cloak. I would imply to him that I am the one who is fleeing the country.”

Van der Delft continued to look very worried. I think he felt that the project went beyond the duties expected of an ambassador. He was in poor health, and I am sure he would have given a great deal not to be involved in such an adventure.

I wondered how my staunch old Chapuys would have reacted. With a little more enthusiasm, I should imagine.

I believe that in his heart he was uneasy because of the Emperor's reluctance. My cousin had agreed to the project only as a last resort. The plan was full of weaknesses as far as he was concerned and I am sure it was only because he felt my life to be in danger that he agreed to it. After all, I should be out of the country at the crucial moment; but it was no use having me in the country… dead. I supposed the Emperor thought this was the lesser of two evils and that was the sole reason why he agreed to it.

Van der Delft told me that he would write to the Emperor telling him of Rochester's suggestion, and when he had his master's approval, the plan would be put into action.

Shortly afterward I received a further communication from van der Delft. He was being recalled and in his place would be Jehan Scheyfve. I was horrified. To exchange ambassadors in the middle of such a project seemed extraordinary to me. I began to suspect that van der Delft had asked for the exchange.

He told me that Scheyfve would shortly be calling on me, which I presumed meant that he himself was saying goodbye.

Robert Rochester came to me with an alarming piece of news. Summer was coming on, and it was in summer that tempers ran high and people's grievances were uppermost in their minds. The Council did not want a repeat of rebellions, so they were making a careful watch of the roads this summer, and people who might not be about their ordinary business would be stopped and questioned. It was the duty of every householder to take part in this watch; any who did not do so might find himself in trouble with the Council. It was for the protection of all, and they must do their duty.

“It means,” said Rochester, “that the roads will be watched and, if you are seen riding to Malden, which you almost certainly would be, the alarm would be given. Moreover, this friend of mine has taken alarm and will not be involved in this.”

I was in a quandary. Van der Delft, who had been working on the plan, was now going, and this new man was in his place. What did he know of it? I wondered.

I sent an urgent message to van der Delft. He must come and say goodbye to me…in person, I insisted.

I hoped he would understand by the wording of my message that it was imperative that I see him.

When he arrived, I was appalled by his appearance. The man looked really ill, and he was decidedly worried. I told him Rochester's news without delay.

“Then,” he said, “we have to plan again.”

“But you are going away.”

He was silent and I went on, “What of this new man?”

“It has been decided that Scheyfve should know nothing of the plan.”

“But you will not be here… and if this man knows nothing of it… what can we do?”

“Scheyfve cannot know of this. Imagine what would happen. Suppose the plot failed and he were involved… and if it succeeds and it were known that he was aware of it…he would be discredited.”

“Is that why you are being withdrawn?”

“It is that… and for reasons of health.”

I felt bewildered and very much alone. I could see that no one wished to be involved in my dangerous existence.

I was wrong. Van der Delft was a good man; he was genuinely sorry for me, and he was going to do everything he could to help.

He said to me, “If this plan is undertaken, it must succeed.”

“How can we be sure that it will?”

“We must not attempt it until we are sure.”

“I will trust in God,” I said.

He lifted his shoulders. He looked so terribly ill, poor man. I knew his gout was very painful. But still he wanted to help. He had a good secretary whom he could trust, a certain Jean Dubois; and his idea was that, disguised as a merchant, Dubois should come in a ship bringing grain for the household.

That would not be considered unusual, for grain was now and then brought to the household. When the grain was delivered, I should be smuggled out. We should be away before I was missed, and I should very soon be in Flushing.

I said, “Will you come too, Ambassador?”

He looked helpless.

“You must come,” I said. “I shall need you.”

“Dubois is a trusty servant.”

“But you must come. I must have your promise.”

He smiled at me almost tenderly. “I give it,” he said. “I shall come as a grain merchant, and we shall have you out of harm's way … in no time at all.”

I BEGAN TO WONDER if everything must go wrong for me.

When I heard the news I was astounded and stricken with grief, for, though I had compared van der Delft with Chapuys to his disadvantage, I had grown fond of him and I had relied upon him. He had been with me through a dangerous time and he had been my only link with the Emperor, whom, in spite of everything, I still regarded as my savior.

On arriving in the Netherlands, van der Delft wrote to the Emperor an account of what had happened, and as soon as he had finished he took to his bed. He had fallen into a fever and was delirious.

It was apparent that he was on his deathbed. He was suffering from gout, but it seemed that the plots for my escape had so preyed on his mind that he had become further enfeebled.

The poor man went into raving delirium and talked of the boat which was to take me away from England; he had rambled about the watch on the roads, and the dangers of getting me to the boat. There must have been many who heard it.

I received a note from the Emperor. It came sealed by way of the ambassador who, of course, knew nothing of its contents. It was very disconcerting to have an ambassador in whom I could not confide. Chapuys had been my great comfort, and after him van der Delft…and now, when I most needed help, there was no one to give it to me.

The Emperor did not want to drop the plan in spite of all the difficulties which had arisen, but he thought it must be put aside for a few weeks while his spies informed him what effect the ravings of van der Delft had had. He would send men into the markets to drink with the merchants and there discover if anything had leaked out.

In due course I heard from him again. Apparently there had been no mention of the plot, and it seemed that all was safe.

Now we were free to go ahead.

I was overcome with melancholy and great trepidation. Van der Delft was replaced by a man I did not know. A stranger was coming, disguised as a grain merchant, and I was to escape with him…to the unknown. It was a frightening proposition.