“Yes, I’d heard that,” Alinor confirmed, thinking of the man who had told her of the waiting fleet, of the chance for the prince.
“Our navy, the parliament fleet, has chased him out of the Thames and all the way back to Holland. He won’t wait off our shores again.” Ned chuckled. “Must’ve been hoping his father would escape from Newport and that he’d pick him up at sea, take him to France. They must’ve thought that the king would break his parole and escape again. So that’s overset, too. The king’s ships’ve gone, and he’s trapped in Newport, the parliament men telling him how it’s to be, and nothing for him to do but agree.”
“The king’s ships have failed him?” she asked.
“Driven back to Holland. He’s got nowhere to go now,” Ned said with satisfaction. “He’ll have to agree with parliament and return with them to London. And I tell you, he’ll find a dusty welcome there.”
“But what’ll become of him? And what about all the people who followed him? Those in France and Holland, those who went into exile with the queen?”
“Who cares for them?”
“It’s just . . . what will happen to them, I wonder.”
“You know, I think they’ll reprimand the king,” Ned said thoughtfully. “I think they’ll take him to London and make him into a king like no one has ever seen before, a king who has to work with the parliament and the church, not one who’s set over it. I think they’ll give him back his house but not his throne. Maybe they’ll make him Mr. King!” He laughed at his own joke. “I would bet you a shilling that they don’t give him back his throne, and for sure, he’ll never command an army again. He can’t be trusted. Everyone can see that now: he can’t be trusted.”
“So will the queen come home to be with him? Will she be Mrs. Queen? And the prince? And what about the lords and ladies and those who followed her to Paris? What’ll they do?”
“They’ll all have to beg pardon of the people of England,” Ned ruled solemnly. “That’s what I’d have them do. Beg pardon. Pay a fine, swear never to bear arms against Englishmen again, and then live privately, quietly. We should treat them all as bad as papists: fined and banned from public office. They can live in England without rights, silent: like wives and children, like the madmen that they are. They can work but not command.”
“But they’ll be able to come home?” she pressed.
“If they want a half-life,” Ned predicted. “But it’ll never be the same again for them. And us. Nothing’ll ever be the same again.”
Alys came out of the doorway, a hank of raw wool on her distaff. She sat beside them and twirled the spindle with her foot and started to spin.
“You’ve got a spindle in your hand night and day,” her uncle remarked.
“Dowry,” she said shortly.
He nodded. “I’ll give you a couple of shillings on the day,” he promised. “Ten.”
“I’d be grateful,” she said smoothly. “Thank you, Uncle.”
She did not look at her mother, nor did Alinor raise her eyes from her work. “We’ll both be grateful,” Alinor added. “To tell truth: we’ve had to promise more than we can find.”
“It’s a handsome farm,” he conceded. “They’re bound to want a good payment. When’s the wedding to be?”
“After Easter,” Alinor said.
“Perhaps earlier,” Alys added. “If we can get the money earlier. Perhaps Twelfth Night. I should love a Twelfth Night wedding.”
Her uncle shook his head. “There’s no Twelfth Night in the Bible,” he said. “And no call for one in a godly church.”
“And that’s too soon!” Alinor protested. “We’ll never get anything like the money in that time.”
Alys shrugged. “A later day in January then. Or February. A day without a name.”
“Then you’ll have to spin faster,” Ned told her. “Or spin gold, like the lass in the story.”
“What’s the hurry?” Alinor asked her. “In bad weather and dark afternoons? Why not wait for spring?”
The pretty girl showed her most mischievous smile. “Because I want a warm bed in bad weather and dark afternoons.”
Alinor gave a little frown and a nod towards the girl’s uncle to remind her to mind her tongue.
“Marriage is a serious contract, to be taken in hand for the glory of God,” Ned said solemnly. “Not at the whim of the lusts of the young. You’d do better to be the Lord’s handmaiden, ask in your prayers, till He says the time is right.”
“Yes,” Alys agreed, her pretty face grave. “But how long would you have me wait, Uncle Ned? For there you are on your own, and there is Ma all alone here. I know we’re a family as cool-blooded as fish, but even so . . .”
Despite himself her uncle laughed and bent to pat his dog on the head.
“We’ll never get the dowry in time, if you bring the wedding forward,” Alinor warned her.
“We will,” Alys said confidently. “Because Richard’s going to make it up for me.”
“What?” Ned demanded. “The bridegroom pay the dowry to himself?”
Alys glowed with pride. “He loves me so much,” she said. “He doesn’t want me to worry.”
“Has he got his own savings?” Alinor asked. “Has he got that sort of fortune?”
