1635: A Parcel of Rogues - eARC Read Free Page B

With Cromwell now out and given the cause for a grudge that would awe even Boyle’s own feud-happy Irishmen, it was time to try attacking the problem from the other end.
    Boyle had seen that in the beginning of the civil wars that would have ravaged England, Scotland and Ireland had been plagued by enough factions that none could convincingly end the conflict and secure a settlement by force in the beginning. It took twenty years for enough blood to be let to exhaust them all to the point that reason and the settlement of the restoration could prevail. If there was anything left to the royal power at this time, Boyle was resolved to use it to nip that in the bud before it bloomed into civil strife.
    “Nor would any man with more wit than a rabbit, my lord,” Montrose said, “and I’ve no truck with those that say you press your own advantage on the king’s misfortune.”
    “Nor should you. And I’m not surprised that plenty are saying that. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve always striven to do well by myself, ever since I went to Dublin with the wealth I could carry and my sword and dagger to keep it with, but what price mere baubles and rich lands if the nation is crumbling about them?”
    “Quite, quite,” Montrose said, “but how can I be of service to His Majesty in the matter? I’ll confess I was surprised to receive his summons from my estates. It’s said I was destined to take against the king for some of that future, and it has gone passing hard for such as me lately.”
    “Results matter, my lord, results. His Majesty, and I can’t say for sure as I had not his confidence at the time, was likely of the hope that a man who’d died for the king in one time might be inclined to measure his loyalty better in another. And I’m of like mind, my lord Montrose, for a strong king can guard his subjects better than a weak one.”
    “That’s right enough. How, then, to make a strong king of a weak one?”
    Boyle smiled. The question itself could be counted treasonous, assuming as it did that Charles Stuart was a weak king. But then, there were village idiots who could see that not all was well with His Majesty’s rule. Only able to stay in power through foreign subsidy and foreign troops on the streets of London, he was now bedridden with his injuries, unlikely to ever be more than a halting cripple. It was taking all Boyle’s political skill not to look like the very epitome of the evil counselor. He’d read of the famous dictum a future Cromwell would utter, of putting a sword in the tenth man’s hand when nine in ten subjects would disagree with his policy, but Boyle had seen armed men swarmed under by sufficiently angry mobs at odds less than that. The trick was getting the nine to think the tenth man’s sword was there for their protection and benefit, and if they could be brought to think that the unpopular policy was imposed by someone who had their best interests at heart, so much the better.
    “My lord, we are faced with factions and parties within and foreign conspiracy without. Wentworth, rot him, cozened the king into taking French gold in return for provoking Gustav Adolf and his Americans. Offered them further insult by imprisoning their embassy. Failed to keep them secure once imprisoned, so now their agents are loose within the realm. Factions within, conspiracy without. The foreign troubles, His Majesty may, with good advice, attend to himself. The factions within, we must repair ourselves so the kingdoms seem strong behind the king.”
    Montrose gave Boyle a level, measuring stare. As an assessment of the situation, that mixed truth with bare-faced lies in about equal measure to offer a compromise everyone could accept without taking a portion of blame down with the bitter medicine. Good politics, in other words.
    “His Majesty will have to make some concessions on episcopal power, if only to make the presbyterians less strident. Power outside the kirk, mind you. If we can stop the