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

his services esteemed by His Majesty. Should we in turn deserve his patronage, then our position, so shaken by the late civil disorders, is reaffirmed.’
    â€˜And that is so important to you?’
    â€˜Not to me, Nathan, but to the poor devils who have suffered in the late wars and whose condition we shall be in a better position to ameliorate than of late.’
    â€˜One might almost think you a Christian, Kit,’ Gooding said with a wry smile.
    â€˜I should not go that far,’ Faulkner responded drily with a laugh.
    â€˜There is one thing that is troubling me in all this universal rejoicing,’ Gooding said seriously.
    â€˜Only one? Good heavens, Nathan,’ Faulkner said, his mood still light, unaware of the solemn note air Gooding had assumed. ‘I should have thought a Puritan like you would have feared the imminent opening of the gates of Hell itself!’
    â€˜I did not note among the King’s returning entourage a certain lady …’ Gooding let the import of the sentence hang in the air.
    A deathly hush fell between the two men. Then Faulkner asked, ‘Has your sister prompted this mention of her?’
    Gooding shook his head. ‘No, but I know the thought is in her mind, and the apprehension of …’ He paused awkwardly.
    Faulkner interjected, ‘Her name is Katherine Villiers, and, if it pleases you, I have neither heard of her, or heard from her, since I abandoned her in Holland. For all I know she is dead. Besides, she is of like age as myself, or nearly so.’
    â€˜She is much younger.’
    â€˜Only a little … But does your sister say that?’
    Gooding shrugged. ‘I only mean—’
    â€˜I know what you mean, Nathan, and I appreciate your concern, but your investment will be safe.’
    â€˜I know that; it is not my investment, Kit, it is my peace of mind. I do not think that I could tolerate your absconding a second time.’
    â€˜You think I still have feelings for the woman?’
    â€˜I do not know. I have never had strong feelings for any woman, but I marvel that those that do succumb to the attractions of the opposite sex are apt – upon occasion – to act like madmen.’
    Faulkner looked at Gooding and laughed. ‘Come, let us decide who is to lay out this Indiaman for us and forget the past. It is like water passed under London Bridge.’
    â€˜Perhaps, but the tide brings some, at least, of it back up the stream.’
    That night Faulkner dreamed of building their new East Indiaman. The dream passed pleasantly as the ships rose on the stocks until it came to the day of her launching. Then Judith came screaming, wild-eyed, onto the scene, tearing at her hair which flew about her face. She was followed by Henry, whose face was that of a pallid corpse, and Hannah, holding a posy and who had been given the honour of launching the ship. The great hull, decked out with flags and ensigns, began to move. The King was in attendance, a great honour conferred upon Sir Christopher Faulkner, one among the greatest of the ship-owners of London. On the river in their barges, the Lord Mayor of London, the Aldermen and Liverymen and the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House paid their respects. Other boats crowded the river and, besides the cheering populace, the merchant ships lying in the tiers all fired their guns in salute. But above it all the sharp keening of Judith rent the air and introduced a note of warning. Faulkner began to sweat in his sleep, to twist and turn as the dream reached its climax.
    As the great Indiaman slid down the ways, her transom breasted the dark waters of the Thames and drove a white wave before it. The great stern had passed before he had read her name, and it now occurred to him that the question of the ship’s name was unresolved. Yet Hannah had launched it. He could not recall what name she had used! They were in the presence of the King, and as Faulkner turned to look