Part 14

The Earl left Oxford for Ireland, where the nuncio from the Pope had arrived, and proceeded in his negotiations with this dignitary and the Supreme Council of the rebel Papists and Irish--negotiations in which he found endless difficulties and delays, owing chiefly to a mutual distrust of all parties towards each other;--a distrust of the King not unnatural on the part of the Irish, who knew that nothing but the utmost distress induced the King to treat with them at all, and that to treat with them, or at least to make any important concessions to them, was to alienate the whole of the English Protestants--both Royalists and Parliamentarians--to an implacable degree. The Irish demanded perfect freedom of religion; the possession of all Cathedrals and Churches; and that all the strong places in Ireland, including Dublin, should be in the hands at any rate of English Roman Catholics; that the English Papists should be relieved from all disabilities; and that the King in the first Parliament, or settlement of the nation, should ratify and secure all these advantages to them. In return for this the Pope offered a large present of money, and the Earl was promised 10,000 men from the rebel forces--3000 immediately for the relief of Chester, and 7000 to follow before the end of March.

In order to realize how repulsive such a proceeding as this would appear to the whole English nation, it is necessary to recollect the repeated professions of attachment to Protestantism on the part of the King, and of his determination to repress Popery; the intense hatred of Popery on the part of the Puritan party, and of most of the Church people; and the horror caused in all classes by the barbarities of the Irish massacre--something similar to the feeling in England during the Sepoy rebellion. No Irish ever came into England, and the English knew them only by report as ferocious, half-naked savages, to which state, indeed, centuries of oppression had reduced them. So universal was this feeling, that the King dared only proceed in the most secret manner; and in a letter to Glamorgan he acknowledges that the circumstances are such that he cannot do more than hint at his wishes, promising him again, on the word of a King, to ratify all his actions, and to regard his proceedings with additional gratitude if they were conducted without insisting nicely on positive written orders, which it was impossible to give.

Communications between the Earl and the Court continued to be kept up, and the former represented the progress of the negotiations as satisfactory; but the state of the King's affairs became so pressing, especially with regard to the relief of Chester, which was reduced to great distress, that it was absolutely necessary that some envoy should be sent to Ireland to hasten the treaty, and if possible assist the Earl to convince the Supreme Council of the good faith of the King; and it was also as important that an equally qualified agent should go to Chester to prepare the leaders there to receive the Irish contingent, and to encourage them to hold out longer in expectation of it.

"There is no man so suited to both these missions as yourself," said the Jesuit. "You are a King's servant and a Protestant, and you will therefore have weight with the rebel Council in Ireland. Still more, as you are a Churchman and a favourite with the Church people--especially since the death of the Archbishop--you will be able to prepare the mind of the Lord Biron and the commanders at Chester to receive the Irish troops favourably; they will believe that you act by the King's direction, and will not know anything of the concessions which have been made in Ireland. You are ready to undertake it?"

Inglesant hesitated for a moment, but then he said simply and without effort,--

"I am ready; I will do my best: but there are some things I should like to ask."

"Ask what you will," said the Jesuit, quickly; "everything I know I will tell you."

"As a Churchman," said Inglesant, "if I lend myself to this plan I shall be considered by all Churchmen to have betrayed my religion, and to have done my best to ruin my country as a Protestant country. Is not this the case?"

"Probably," said the Jesuit, after a moment's hesitation.

"Shall I have any authority direct from the King for what I do?"

"I have advised not," said the Jesuit; "but His Majesty thinks that you will need some other warrant, both in Ireland and at Chester, than the mere fact of your belonging to the Household. He therefore intends to give you an interview, and also a written commission signed by himself."

"And in case the whole scheme miscarries and becomes public?" said Inglesant.

"I cannot answer," said the Jesuit, "for what course His Majesty may be advised to take; but in your case it will, of course, be your duty to preserve the strictest silence as to what has passed between the King and yourself."

"Then if I fall into the hands of the Parliament," Inglesant said, "my connection with the King will be repudiated?"

"His Majesty pledges his word as a King," began the Jesuit.

Inglesant made a slight impatient motion with his head, which the other saw, and instantly stopped.

He raised his eyes to Inglesant, and looked fully in his face for a moment, then, with that supreme instinct which taught him at once how to deal with men, he said:--

"If the necessities of the State demand it, all knowledge of this affair will be denied by the King."

"That is all I have to say," said Inglesant; "I am ready to go."

The next day Inglesant saw the King. The interview was very short. The King referred him to Father St. Clare for all instructions, telling him distinctly that all the instructions he would receive from him would have his approval, urging him to use all his efforts to assist Lord Glamorgan, but at all events to lose no time, after seeing his Lordship, in getting to Chester, and, when there, to use every exertion to induce the Cavaliers to receive the Irish troops, as they, no doubt, would be glad in their extremity to do. He received a few lines written by the King in his presence and signed, requiring all to whom he might show them to give credit to what he might tell them as if it came direct from the King. The King gave him his hand to kiss, and dismissed him.

Inglesant lost no time in reaching Bristol, taking with him all that remained of his money, considerable sums of which he had from time to time lent to the King. He found a vessel sailing for Waterford, and was fortunate enough to reach that harbour without loss of time. He did not stay by the ship while she went up to the city, but landed at Dunmore, and immediately took horses to Kilkenny. There he found the Earl and the Papal Nuncio engaged in negotiations with each other, and with the Supreme Council, the principal difficulty being an intense distrust of the King. The Nuncio, John Baptista Renuccini, Archbishop of Fermo, was of a noble family of Florence, and of long experience at the Court of Rome. He appeared pleased to see Inglesant, and came to visit him privately at his lodgings, where he entered into a long discourse with him, endeavouring to find out the real standing and authority of the Earl, and whether the King could be trusted or not. Inglesant, who spoke both French and Italian as well as Latin, was able to enter very fully and freely into the state of affairs with him. He told him that the only way to gain any advantages which the Catholics might have in view was to assist the King promptly and effectively at once; that the King could only be enabled to fulfil his promises by being placed in a strong and independent position; and that if, by delays and half measures, the help was postponed till it was too late, or the negotiations became publicly known, the King would be powerless to fulfil his promises, and would be compelled to repudiate them altogether. He submitted to the Nuncio that, even supposing the King's good faith was doubtful, he was much more likely to be favourable to the Catholics, when restored to power, than the Parliament and the Puritan faction would ever be; he reminded the Nuncio of the great favour and leniency which had ever been shown to the Romanists during the King's reign, and he spoke warmly of the base ingratitude which had been shown to the King by that party among the Catholics who had intrigued with the Parliament against a King, very many of whose troubles had arisen from his leniency towards their religion.

The Nuncio was evidently much impressed with Inglesant's arguments, and was very courteous in his expressions of regard, assuring Inglesant that he should not forget to mention so excellent and intelligent a friend of the Romish Church in Rome itself, and that he hoped he might some time see him there, and receive him into closer relations to that glorious and tender mother.

Inglesant saw the Earl immediately after this interview; he found him perplexed and discouraged with the difficulties of his position. He introduced Inglesant to several of the Supreme Council, and many days were taken up in argument and negotiations. At last both Inglesant and the Earl agreed that the most important thing for him to do was to get to Chester without loss of time, as the delays and negotiations were so great that there was imminent danger that the city would be surrendered before the treaty could be completed. Inglesant therefore left Kilkenny immediately, and, posting to Dublin without loss of time, embarked for Anglesea, and arrived there on the 29th of December. Here he procured horses, and, crossing the island, he passed over into Flintshire and proceeded towards Chester. It was exceedingly unfortunate that he had not arrived a few days before, as the Parliamentary army, having lately received a reinforcement of Colonel Booth and the Lancashire forces who had just reduced Lathom House, had now entirely surrounded the city, guarding with sufficient force every gate and avenue, causing a great scarcity of provisions, and rendering it almost impossible for any one to gain admission to the garrison.

*CHAPTER XII.*

Lord Biron and some of the commissioners who were associated with him in the defence of the city were at supper in a long, low room in the castle on the evening of the 12th of January. Lord Biron and more than one of the noblemen and gentlemen then in Chester had their ladies with them, but they lived apart, mostly at Sir Francis Gammul's house in the Lower Bridge Street, opposite to St. Olave's Church, and were provided for rather better than the rest; but the commanders partook of exactly the same food as the rest of the besieged, and their supper that night consisted of nothing but boiled wheat, with water to drink. The conversation was very flat, for the condition of the besieged was becoming utterly hopeless; and although they had rejected several offers of capitulation, they foresaw that it could not be long before they should be obliged to submit. The town had been singularly free from discontent and mutiny, and Lord Biron's high position and renown made him particularly fitted for the post he filled; but he felt that the task before him was well-nigh hopeless. He sat buried in thought, few of the other gentlemen present spoke, and they were on the point of separating, Lord Biron to make the round of the walls, when a servant came up from the court below, saying that there was a man below in the dress of a miner, who said he was Mr. Inglesant, the King's gentleman, and wished to see his lordship.

"Who did you say?" exclaimed Lord Biron, and the others crowded round in excitement, "Inglesant, the King's Esquire?"

"John Inglesant."

"The Esquire of the Body?"

"No doubt from Oxford and the King."

"How could he have got in?"

"In the dress of a miner, he says."

"Perhaps the King is near at hand?"

"At any rate he has not forgotten us."

"He has used his Jesuit's teaching to some purpose."

These and many other exclamations were uttered while Lord Biron told the servant to send Inglesant up at once. He entered the room in his miner's dress, his hands and face stained with dust, his hair matted and hanging over his eyes. He carried a large kind of bag, such as the miners used, and his first action was to place it on the table, and to remove from it five or six bottles of claret, a large ham, and a goose.

"I knew you were somewhat short here," he said, "and I ran the risk of bringing these things, though I do not know, if I had been caught, that it would have told much against me, for we miners live well, I can tell your lordship."

"But how on earth did you get in?" said Lord Biron, "and where have you come from?"

"I thought I never should have got in," he replied. "The leaguer is well kept, and there is scarcely a weak point. But I fear," he added sadly, "from the state I find you in, it really mattered little whether I got in or not."

"Oh, never say that," said Lord Biron cheerily; "the sight of you is a corps of relief in itself. Come in here and let me hear what you have to say. I will not keep the news a moment from you, gentlemen," he added courteously to the rest.

"If you will pardon me, my lord," said Inglesant, "and allow me a moment to wash this dirt off, and if some one would lend me a suit of clothes, it would be a courtesy. I had to leave my own in Flintshire, and these are none of the pleasantest. My news will keep a few minutes, and your lordship will be all the better for a glass or two of this claret, which is not the worst you ever drank."

Lord Biron took him into another room, and left him to change his dress, lending him one of his own suits of clothes. Inglesant really wished to gain time, and also to say what he had to say with every advantage of appearance and manner, for he felt that his mission was a difficult one--how difficult he felt he did not know.

When he came back he found the gentlemen had opened one of the bottles, and were drinking the wine very frugally, but with infinite relish. They were warm in their thanks to Inglesant, and in congratulations on his improved appearance. Lord Biron took him on one side at once.

Inglesant had a letter for him from the Duke of Ormond, which the Duke had given him unsealed, telling him to read it. John Inglesant had done so several times during his journey, and did not altogether like its contents. The Duke alluded by name to Lord Glamorgan, and mentioned the number (10,000) of the troops intended to be sent to England. Neither fact would Inglesant have wished to communicate himself, at any rate at once, and he had resolved not to deliver the letter until he saw how Lord Biron took the rather vague information he intended to give him. But there is always this difficulty with negotiations of this kind, that while the first requisite is entire frankness, the least caution, even at the beginning, may convey a sense of suspicion which nothing afterwards can remove. Inglesant felt, therefore, that he should have to watch Lord Biron most closely, and decide instantly, and on the spur of the moment, when to trust him and to what extent.

He began, after Lord Biron had expressed his cordial admiration at his exploit and his sense of obligation, by telling him he came direct from Lord Ormond, in Dublin, and that his object in getting into Chester was to let them know that they might expect relief from Ireland, at most within a few days, and to urge them to hold out to the last moment and the last bag of wheat.

Without appearing to do so, he watched Lord Biron narrowly as he spoke, and saw that he expected to hear a great deal more than this vague account.

He went on telling him of his interview with Ormond, of the King's great anxiety for the relief of Chester, and the difficulties the Lord Lieutenant met with in treating with the Irish; but he saw that Lord Biron was manifestly getting impatient. At last the latter said,--

"But you have not told me, Mr. Inglesant, where this relief is to come from. Ormond has no troops to spare--he has told us so often; indeed, all the troops that could be spared passed through Chester years ago when the truce was first proclaimed. He must keep all his to keep those murderous villains, the Irish Papists, in check. They will respect no truce. We hear something of Lord Glamorgan; have you seen him in Ireland? Have you no letter from Ormond to me?"

Inglesant saw that he must trust him at once to a very great extent.

"I have a letter from the Duke to you," he said; "but I wish first to show you this warrant the King gave me at Oxford, that you may see I do not speak without his authority. When he gave me that, he told me all the negotiations which the Duke was engaged in, at his desire, with the Irish Papists; and all that I tell you has been done with his sanction. As to Lord Glamorgan, I saw him at Kilkenny; he is striving all he can to second the Lord Lieutenant's efforts with the Irish and the Papal Nuncio, and he has the fullest warrant from the King."

Lord Biron read the warrant from the King carefully more than once; then returned it, and took Lord Ormond's letter, which he also read once or twice.

Inglesant walked to the window and looked out.

"The letter is not sealed, Mr. Inglesant," Lord Biron said.

"No," said Inglesant, "the Duke insisted on my bringing it open, and on my reading it. I requested him to seal it, but he refused."

"And you have read it?"

"Certainly."

"I see he speaks of a very large contingent--10,000 men, and that Glamorgan is to get them entirely from the Irish Papists. Ten thousand Irish Papists and murderers in England, Mr. Inglesant, is not what I should like to see, and I do not like the negotiation being entrusted so much to Glamorgan, a determined Papist. We know not what concessions he may make unknown to the King. I beg your pardon for my plain speaking;--they say you are half a Papist yourself."

"You will only have 3000 men sent here," said Inglesant, "and from what I saw in Ireland I fear it may be some time before the rest follow. Besides, surely, my lord, nothing can be worse than your present state here."

"It is sad enough, certainly, but there may be things much worse. I tell you, sir, I would rather die of hunger on these walls than see my country given over to murderous Irish rebels and savage Kerns. And bad as the King's affairs are at present, I am convinced that His Majesty would endure all gladly, rather than make any concessions to such as these,--much less expose England to their ravages."

"The troops who will be sent will be under the strictest orders, and commanded by gentlemen of honour and rank," said Inglesant; "and I assure your lordship, upon my sacred word of honour as a Christian, that nothing will be attempted but what has His Majesty's cordial consent."

Lord Biron was unsatisfied, but Inglesant considered he had achieved a success; his lordship had plainly not the least suspicious feeling towards him, all his dissatisfaction arising from his dislike to the means proposed for his relief. He would, moreover, hold out as long as possible, and this all the more as he saw help approaching, from whatever source it came.

They went back to the other officers, and communicated the news to them, rather to their disappointment; for Inglesant having spoken some words of encouragement to the soldiers of the guard below, the report had run through Chester that the King was at hand with 3000 horse. The effect, however, which Inglesant's news produced in Chester was altogether exhilarating. Officers, soldiers, and inhabitants set to work with redoubled vigour, and Inglesant became a hero wherever he went, and was introduced to Lady Biron and the ladies, who received him with gratitude, as though he had already raised the siege. He was himself, however, very far from being at ease, as day after day passed and no signs of help appeared. Lord Biron, though showing the greatest signs of confidence openly, had evidently become more and more hopeless, and continually sought opportunities of speaking to Inglesant privately; and Inglesant found it impossible to avoid letting him see more and more into the real facts of the case; so that the Duke and his share in the negotiations fell, day by day, deeper into the shade, and Lord Glamorgan and his share appeared every day in greater prominence. Lord Biron expressed himself increasingly dissatisfied, and suspicious that such negotiations did not originate with the King; but as no help or troops of any kind appeared, these imaginary dangers were not of much import. Sir William Brereton, the Parliamentary commander, was continually sending letters summoning them to surrender. Nine of these they refused, but when there appeared no longer any hopes of succour, Lord Biron answered the tenth. To this Sir William answered, upbraiding Lord Biron with having delayed so long, "every day producing loss of blood and expense of treasure," but offering to appoint commissioners to treat on the terms of surrender. This letter was received on the 26th of January, and the same day Lord Biron replied. Sir William's answer came the next day, and the same morning, that is on the 27th of January, an event occurred which decided Lord Biron to surrender, and at the same time sealed Inglesant's fate.

Early in the forenoon a rumour spread through Chester, the source of which could not be discovered, but which no doubt arose from some soldiers' gossip between the outposts. It was said that some great Earl (Lord Glamorgan's name was immediately introduced into the report, but whether it was in the original rumour is doubtful) had been arrested in Ireland, for having concluded in the King's name, but without his sanction, a treaty with the Irish rebels and Papists, by which the latter were relieved from all disabilities and restored to the command of the island, in return for which they agreed to march a large army into England, to destroy the Parliament and the Protestant party, and restore the King and Popery. This report, garnished with great variety of additional horrors, spread rapidly through the city, and about ten o'clock reached Lord Biron's ears. Chiming in as it did with his worst suspicions, it excited and alarmed him not a little. His first thought was of Inglesant, and he sent at once to his lodgings to know if he was within. Inglesant had spent the whole of the night at one of the advanced bastions, where, having some reason to believe that the enemy were working a mine, the garrison made a sortie, and, wearied out, had come home to his room in the Bridge Street to rest. His wounds, and especially the one in his head, which had been supposed to be cured, began to affect him again, probably through exhaustion, excitement, and want of food, and for several days he had felt a giddiness and confusion of brain which at times was so great that he scarcely knew what he did. He had scarcely fallen asleep on the great bed in the small room, crowded with the valuables of the good people of the house in which he lodged, when the messenger from the governor entered the room and aroused him. Sending the man back before him he waited a few minutes to collect his faculties and arrange his dress, and then followed him to the Castle. He found Lord Biron in the state dining-room, a noble room, handsomely furnished, with large windows at the end over-looking the Dee estuary, and a great carved fireplace, before which Lord Biron was standing, impatiently awaiting him.

"Mr. Inglesant," he said, as he entered the room, "you showed me once a commission from His Majesty; will you let me see it again?"