Gentleman Captain by J. D. Davies Read Free Book Online

triggered war, and ultimately began the unhappy civil wars in these kingdoms. Later, this same Argyll ordered Scotland's army into England to help its treacherous Parliament defeat its sovereign lord. Then Argyll turned on his old allies, presumably affronted that the Parliament-men had executed a Dunfermline-born King of Scots without his permission. Soon after, Argyll called over young Charles the Second. Campbell of Argyll placed the crown of Scotland on his twenty-year-old head, but then proceeded to humiliate and demean the new King Charles at every turn. The bitter truce between Charles the Second and Argyll evaporated long before the last royal army of the civil wars invaded England and was routed in battle at Worcester, where my brother received the wounds that so nearly made me an earl at the age of eleven. The king, meanwhile, after hiding in oak trees and disguising himself as the tallest, darkest and ugliest woman in England, escaped to France, where he vowed revenge against Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyll. And revenge he had gained, ten years later; revenge both ample and full.
    The Duke of York said, 'There are many in Scotland who are perhaps quiet for now, Captain Quinton, but they are certainly not content. The Covenanters could still rally in their thousands, if they can but arm themselves and find a leader. Clan Campbell was ever the greatest of all the Scottish clans, and there are many men there who would seek to avenge their executed chief.'
    The king was absent-mindedly stroking his incontinent dog. 'Quite so, Jamie. As my brother says, they need only weapons and a leader.' He dropped the dog, which landed with a yelp, and leant towards me. 'We suspect that they will soon have both.' He was a different king, now, all business, attention and decision, the coarse humour banished.
    Prince Rupert said, 'We still have many friends in Holland, my lord Ravensden. A few weeks ago, we received intelligence that Scottish agents have bought a large cache of weapons from Rodrigo de Castel Nuovo, a Spanish merchant trading out of Bruges.'
    'I think I remember the name,' said my brother slowly. 'Surely he was one of those who traded arms to both sides in the late wars abroad–selling Dutch guns to the Spanish and Spanish horses to the Dutch, all while they were at war with each other. We tried to buy weapons from him ourselves, as I recall.' He gave his small smile, glancing at me briefly.
    Rupert nodded. 'We did, but in those days, his terms were prohibitive. Now, though—'
    'Now,' said King Charles, 'there are suddenly many parties interested in dealing with a king with a throne and an income. I find our credit in the world is so much improved compared with those days when we both slept in damp garrets in Brussels, my lord earl.'
    As my brother nodded acknowledgement, I ventured a question. 'How large is this consignment, Your Majesty?'
    'Five thousand muskets, two thousand pikes, two hundred swords, five hundred pistols, ten field cannon, sufficient shot and match to sustain a campaign for a long summer's season.'
    I glanced at my brother. Even the noble Lord Ravensden, normally so calm and reserved, was clearly staggered by the quantities. Entire countries could not boast such an arsenal.
    'This is plainly not a supply for some skulking fanatics running through London or Edinburgh by night, gentlemen,' said the Duke of York. James Stuart ever uttered such profoundly obvious sentiments with his long face set and his tone emphatic, as though he were Moses delivering the Commandments. Both this profound aura of self-importance and an unhealthy lifelong obsession with skulking fanatics, not to mention such lesser matters as attempting to turn England Catholic again, would eventually put paid to the reign of his future self, King James the Second and Seventh of distinctly less than blessed memory. On that night in Whitehall, though, the duke looked about him portentously, and resumed. 'This is fit for a