The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) Read Free Page B

been more or less reared alongside the Lord’s un anointed.   But I daresay you know best … so I’ll try to live up to everyone’s expectations.’
    Inside the banqueting chamber, wax candles burned bright and log fires blazed in the great hearths.   Long tables gleamed with silver plate, fine glassware and monogrammed damask and, winnowing between these and the arriving guests, liveried servants handed out cups of spiced wine.   No expense, it appeared, had been spared.   It was just a pity, thought Francis, that the company wasn’t better.
    Undeterred by the fact that His Majesty was still hemmed in by Argyll and a clutch of black-clad ministers, Buckingham sauntered towards him.   Francis made polite conversation with various acquaintances and then took his place, as directed, at one of the lower tables with the rest of his unwelcome compatriots.
    ‘Well, well,’ said a familiar voice cheerfully. ‘You again.   We are obviously perceived to be of the same lowly status.   Or do I mean tarred with the same brush?’
    Francis turned slowly and took his time about replying.  
    Of roughly his own age and height, the courier was as fair as he himself was dark and dressed in well-worn buff leather.   Knowing how few Royalists had any money these days and aware that his own blue satin was decidedly shabby, Francis passed over this sartorial breach and concentrated on the intelligence evident in the fine-boned face and the gleam of humour in the dark green eyes.
    Holding out his hand, he said lightly, ‘Francis Langley – unemployed Major of Horse.’
    His fingers were taken in a cool, firm grip.
    ‘Ashley Peverell – jack-of-all-trades,’ came the reply.   And, dropping into the adjacent seat, ‘Don’t tell me.   You were purged from the army before Dunbar?’
    ‘Well before it.   And you?’
    ‘Oh – I was already persona non grata .’   Bitterness mingled oddly with nonchalance. ‘I fought at Preston – for all the good that did.’
    An Engager, then , thought Francis. If Argyll knew that, the door would have been slammed in your face . But it explains how you know about Hamilton .   He said merely, ‘I was at Colchester.’
    ‘Ah.   Then you doubtless have better cause for resentment than I.   However.   At least you haven’t become a glorified errand boy.’
    The conversation had arrived, quicker than Francis expected, at the point which interested him.   He said, ‘The letters you took to the King last night?’
    ‘The very same.   Speculation rife, is it?’
    ‘Naturally.   Anything to break the monotony.’
    Ashley Peverell grinned.
    ‘A cry from the heart, if ever I heard one.   But I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.   I’ve merely been doing the rounds in England.   You know the sort of thing. Can you offer a few guineas to help feed and clothe your King?   Alas, sir, I can barely feed and clothe my family .   Can His Majesty rely on your support in the event of another invasion?   He has my very good wishes, sir.   More than that, I cannot guarantee.   And so on and so on and depressingly, unsurprisingly so on.’
    Francis frowned.   ‘Is it really as bad as that?’
    ‘Yes.   Oh - people are sick of the so-called Commonwealth.   They’re tired of the Rump clinging to power while it ordains fines for swearing and penalties for adultery – and they resent the monthly assessments and the Excise.   But not everyone will ally themselves with the Scots and many wish His Majesty hadn’t taken the Covenant.   Then again, out of the total support I have been promised, experience has taught me not to expect to see more than half of it when the time comes.’
    ‘You’re turning into a cynic, Ash,’ remarked a voice from the far side of the table. ‘It won’t do, you know.’
    Two pairs of eyes, one green and one deep blue, turned towards the speaker – a thin-faced young man with a shock of unruly brown hair.
    ‘My God,’ groaned Ashley.