‘But what do you say he has stolen?’ Wevers persisted.
‘One of my pieces of silverwork.’
‘Which one?’
‘How should I know? I saw him take something from the front of the stall and slip it under his coat.’
Wevers turned his attention to the sergeant. ‘Mijnheer Preuveneers will make no objection to being searched, if it is done decently and in good order.’
The sergeant motioned his men forward and they duly stripped Preuveneers to his shirt and hose, patting him down to check for hidden jewellery and carefully examining all his clothes, but they found nothing there.
‘It’s not here,’ the sergeant concluded.
‘Nor should it be,’ Wevers continued, ‘for I never saw him reach out to the board. Mijnheer Preuveneers is an honest man and has been falsely, perhaps even maliciously, accused, as I shall make a point of saying to the King when we meet him this afternoon.’
This was a fine bluff since no such meeting was planned, but it produced a marked effect on the sergeant, who cogitated for the briefest moment before ordering the constables to take the accuser in hand and drag him to the common jail where he would be severely questioned after so foully abusing the King’s guests. I did not know what “severely questioned” meant, but it was clear that the stallkeeper did, because he began to whimper piteously and shouted that anyone could make an honest mistake.
‘Aye,’ agreed the sergeant, ‘but this one may cost you your tongue if you’re found to have borne false witness.’
As the man was led away, the bystanders respectfully opened a path for us as if urging us to leave their street as quickly as possible, so Wevers led us through and we marched briskly on.
After a while, I was able to catch up with him to commend him on his masterful display and see if I could find out any more about him by subtle questioning, but I may as well have tried to question an oyster. ‘It is very lucky for mijnheer Preuveneers that you were vigilant,’ I said.
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Wevers smiled, and opened his hand to reveal a small silver chain.
‘You stole it!’ I gasped.
‘Certainly not!’ Wevers replied. ‘But neither did Preuveneers. I saw that rough fellow in the russet-coloured jerkin bump into the old man. At first I thought he was a pickpocket or cutpurse, but then I saw something bright dropped into Preuveneers’ pouch. I made it my business to remove it just as quickly.’
‘So they conspired to accuse him, believing that the chain would be found in his possession? But why?’
‘Presumably because we are Dutch. But it would not surprise me if this was some ruse to discredit our mission, so be on your guard, Master Mercurius. They failed today, but they may not next time.’
‘I cannot help but feel some pity for the silversmith. It sounds as if his punishment may be severe.’
‘I doubt they’ll carry it out. But it will be instructive to see if anyone intervenes on his behalf. If they do, we’ll know who is behind this.’
King Charles was furious. His face became so red I thought he might have an apoplectic seizure and drop down dead. ‘Accused Preuveneers of theft!’
‘I am afraid so, Your Majesty,’ Van Langenburg said. ‘I was not there personally, but I have been informed of the event.’
Charles rose from his seat and surveyed us all. ‘Who saw this?’
Wevers stepped forward and calmly described what had occurred, omitting any mention of his own role in the matter.
Charles became incandescent with rage. ‘Mr Preuveneers has been known to us since our youth. We have no doubt as to his honesty, and it pricks our honour that any of our subjects should defile his reputation in this way. Where is the silversmith now?’
‘In the charge of the sergeant of the watch,’ Wevers answered.
Charles turned to Arlington. ‘Have him committed to the pillory today and tomorrow. That should teach him some manners.’
Arlington bowed his head in acknowledgement of the instruction. If anyone present was going to speak up for the silversmith to save him from his fate, this was their moment; but there was no plea for him.
‘Preuveneers!’ Charles called, and the old man came forward and knelt before the King. ‘Come, come!’ cried Charles, and lifted Preuveneers to his feet. ‘I am heartily sorry that you have been used in such a fashion.’
It did not escape my notice that Charles was not speaking of himself as “We” any longer, but addressing Preuveneers in a more intimate and friendly tone. After the shock of the day such affection was too much for our companion, and he began to cry, apologising between sobs for his unmanliness.
‘We have known each other these many years,’ Charles answered gently, ‘and you could never appear unmanly to me. But, by God, I will find what the villain was about! Arlington, bid his keepers do whatever they must to discover this wickedness.’
I have no taste for earthly punishments. It has long seemed to me that since we will all be judged in time by an infallible and all-knowing judge whose sentences are more awful than anything we can issue here, it makes little difference how severe we are to men on earth, and I will allow that I am perhaps a little squeamish about the shedding of blood (particularly my own). Thus, I found myself shivering at the thought of what “whatever they must” may portend. If Wevers was right, the stallkeeper was incited to this deed by others. He would pay the price, and they would escape, unless he chose to disclose their names; and who can doubt that if the tortures were severe enough, he would come up with some names, true or not? I know I would.
I was spared the extended and alcoholic dinner that afternoon because I received an invitation to meet the Princess herself. I assumed she would be somewhere in the same palace, but I was disabused of this idea as I was conducted to a carriage for the short journey to St James’ Palace.
In the light of the events earlier, I was concerned to find that I was the only occupant of the carriage and might have feared a kidnapping were it not that the door bore the arms of someone ecclesiastical. Of course, I was a young man then, and the idea that clergymen might be no more trustworthy than any other man had not yet gripped me; so I took my seat, but the carriage did not move.
After a couple of minutes I was beginning to wonder whether I should jump out while I still might, when someone rushed to open the door again and the Bishop of London clambered inside.
‘I am sorry I was not here to greet you, Master,’ he said smoothly. ‘I thought I had time to transact a little business while my servant searched you out, but I was detained by one whose invitation I could hardly refuse.’
I must have looked puzzled, because he felt the need to expand his comments.
‘I mean the King, sir. His Majesty noticed my arrival.’ Compton smoothed his robe and picked at an imaginary piece of fluff on his lap. ‘I understand you were subjected to some unpleasantness earlier. I am sorry for it.’
‘You are very kind, but you need not apologise for something in which the fault was not yours.’
‘Nevertheless, we did not protect you from it.’ He glanced out of the window and lowered his voice. ‘I fear those who oppose this match are more resourceful than we had supposed, sir.’