The Mountain of Gold by J. D. Davies Read Free Book Online Page A

certain hanging by the generous spirit of Francis Gale. But the mention of my ancestor's marriage brought me back to present concerns, and I said, 'Well, Francis. So what is your opinion of the proposed match between my brother and the Lady De Vaux?'
    I had seen Francis Gale in many states. I had seen him drunk. I had seen him angry, I had seen him desperately sad, I had seen him deliriously happy. I had seen him kill men with rabid blood-lust in his eyes. But until that moment, I had never seen him embarrassed. Haltingly, he said, 'She—she is a fine lady, sir. She will be a countess to bring credit to this house—'
    The library door was thrown open with such force that it struck hard against the inner wall, shaking loose some plaster from the ceiling. 'Oh, kloten—bollocks, Francis!' cried Cornelia, who was finally dressed.
    We stood, and my wife made straight for my flagon of ale and drained a long draught. As the world knows, Dutch women come out of the womb crying not for their mother's milk, but for beer.
    I said, 'My dear, perhaps Francis has a different opinion of her—'
    Gale sat, but rather less comfortably than before. 'Oh, husband,' said Cornelia. 'Think on it! I will say what Francis dares not, but which should be obvious to the man who could be Earl of Ravensden in a heartbeat. For but a few months more, at any rate. In this country, any vicar owes his place to whoever holds the right of presentation to the living. Is this not so? Thus Francis remains our vicar only at the pleasure of the earl, although of course, that pleasure would also be shaped by the two women who bear the title Countess of Ravensden—the earl's mother and his new wife. And should there ever be any debate in the matter, the final judgment would rest with the Supreme Governor of the Church that Francis serves. The earl's friend King Charles, in other words. Now, what do all of those who hold power over poor Francis's position have in common? Ah yes. They all favour the marriage.'
    For my part, I was increasingly uneasy that both my wife and uncle had condemned this woman out of hand, without fair trial and without even meeting her. But in one sense she was right. The Vicar of Ravensden's position was particularly delicate, perhaps because—'Oh, Francis,' I said, 'surely you are not to officiate at this ceremony?'
    Francis Gale essayed a little smile of relief. 'No, Captain. God places men in situations that are invidious enough, and He has not sought fit to inflict that additional punishment upon me, thanks be to Him. The ceremony will be at Saint Paul's, no less, and in November, so thankfully distant. It's as well, really, for Ravensden Church could never hold the congregation that's expected. What's more, the King himself intends to give away the bride, so I would not wish to be held to account if the roof collapsed in the middle of the service. Some might construe that as high treason.'
    Ah, Francis, my old and long-gone friend; would that we all have the gift of second sight. For the roof, tower and bells of Ravensden Church are all still there and sound enough, more than sixty years on. They will probably still be there at Doomsday. Whereas, of course, old Saint Paul's was reduced to cinders but three years later.
    Cornelia sniffed. 'Ha, Charles Stuart only chose Saint Paul's because no other church is large enough to accommodate his brood of mistresses and bastards. Then there will be the family and confidantes of our new countess, of course. A veritable multitude they'll be.'
    Francis said, 'Not so, Mistress Quinton. It seems she has no immediate family of any sort.'
    Cornelia and I leaned forward, almost in unison. This was news indeed. My wife said, 'No family? Who has no family, other than beggars, orphans and the very old? Most of us have too much family.' This was undoubtedly true of her own breed, the van der Eides: her parents, brother, sisters, uncles, aunts and cousins, spread across a large swathe of the Netherlands