The King's Chameleon by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online

Bar the Lord Mayor, the Aldermen and the Liverymen of a score of Worshipful Companies stood in their chains and robes to greet the King, while the fountains ran with wine at their expense.
    In the following days London was full of people from all over the country wealthy enough to come and see the King, who daily showed himself to loud and enthusiastic public acclamation. Adulation of such intensity left Faulkner cold. He had known Charles Stuart as a young man, had been instrumental in the fugitive’s escape from his pursuers at the beginning of the Civil War and, on the way, had taught His Royal Highness the elements of handling a vessel under sail. But he had also known Charles in exile and had lost his great love, Katherine Villiers, to the casual vice of the idle prince. Charles was, he mused to himself back in his house in Wapping, both King and libertine, and Faulkner had little doubt but that his court would be corrupted by the King’s pursuit of his courtiers’ wives. Well, well, he thought to himself, he had no need to trouble himself. Despite Bence’s reference to his knighthood, conferred in the dark days of the King’s exile when Faulkner was among a handful of naval commanders willing and able – at their own expense – to wage war on Charles Stuart’s behalf, he was confident that he could now sink into quiet obscurity. The restored monarch would have enough to do repairing his damaged country. The best citizens like Faulkner could do was to advance commerce and thereby help, for the public exchequer was empty and money was needed everywhere. The Army needed paying, as did the Navy, for which the repair and building of ships was a necessity. Notwithstanding the hospitality the Dutch had afforded the exiled prince, the Stadtholder and the wealthy burghers of the Seven United Provinces were not eager to allow the English unfettered access to the Spice Islands.
    The reflection brought Faulkner again to the consideration of trading with the East Indies. He and Gooding had had majority shares in East Indiamen in years past, and now, he thought, was the time to renew their investment in the trade. If, as he supposed, young Edmund Drinkwater stood high in the estimation of the Company’s Committees, a union with Hannah could have advantages to the house of Gooding and Faulkner. Smiling to himself, Faulkner began to formulate plans to build a new ship for the trade and wondered whether young Drinkwater would suit her as commander. It would be a dowry for Hannah and a shrewd enough move for all concerned.
    Later that day he fell into a discussion over the specification for their proposed new ship with Gooding. The two men were deeply into the detail of conforming with the exacting standards demanded by the East India Company, when a messenger arrived with a note. There was nothing unusual in this; such notes were constantly brought to their door, carried from their warehouse or their counting-house. They concerned the business of their ships, or the ships of others for whom they acted as London agents, then lying in the river.
    Faulkner slit the wafer, read it and smiled. Looking up at Gooding he remarked, ‘Well, well. The Brethren are summoned to Deptford for the first time in a dozen years. Honest George Monck has been created Duke of Albemarle, and we are to consider – along with some other candidates for form’s sake, no doubt – electing him our Master.’
    â€˜That is no small honour in itself,’ said Gooding ironically, a misunderstanding as to Faulkner’s enthusiastic involvement with the Trinity House being the sole item of disagreement between them, if one set aside their religious incompatibilities. ‘But it is small beer to a man who might have been Protector, was certainly a King-Maker and is now a Duke!’
    â€˜That is precisely the reason why I am pleased, my dear Nathan. The Dukedom signifies that Monck’s position is secure,