Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless dores may sease,
If ever deed of honour did thee please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms,
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
That call Fame on such gentle acts as these
And he can spred thy Name o’er Lands and Seas …
—From a sonnet by John Milton, posted upon his door
November 1642
Isolated with the children at Syon House outside of London, Lucy Hay didn’t get much of a warning. She was otherwise occupied when the message came. A misty rain had fallen for the last two days. The children were restless from staying inside the salon and when the rain stopped Elizabeth had pressed to go outside.
‘It is too muddy and damp,’ Lucy answered. ‘Henry has a runny nose. We cannot do it now. Maybe later.’
‘When later? You promised to take us up on the hill, so we could see across the river to Richmond Park, but every time you have some excuse.’ Elizabeth’s lips formed an accusing pout. ‘We lived there once. It is a grand palace. Not like this. Father used to take me riding in the deer park.’ She gazed out the window at the shrouded lawn and sighed, ‘I miss my father.’ She looked as though she would burst into tears at any minute, this little girl who prided herself on her bravery.
‘But, Princess Elizabeth, we could not see it anyway. We would need a clear day.’ Lucy dredged through her mind for some distraction. ‘But I think I know a place where maybe, just maybe, if the mists lighten—no promises, mind you—we can see across the river. And we don’t have to get all wet and nasty trying.’
The child’s face visibly brightened. ‘Henry will come too. I wish him to see where I lived before he was born. He probably only remembers St. James’s Palace. We shall go now.’
The little boy, playing with wooden blocks on the floor, stood up suddenly and held up his arms to Lucy. ‘Henry go.’
She picked him up and wiped his nose with her already damp handkerchief, then balancing him on her hip, they carefully ascended the narrow stairs the servants used.
‘I have never seen a place like this before. Why are all these rooms so tiny and this passage between so narrow?’
‘This is where cook and the housemaids live.’
‘It is not very grand, and it smells funny. Do Carter and Tom live here too?’
‘No. Carter and Tom live on the ground floor.’
‘Why did the other footmen leave? And your lady of the chamber, did she leave also? I don’t know why you ever left the Queen’s House for such a place as this. Nurse said that Syon House is just an old abbey ruin.’
‘She did, did she?’ Lucy shifted Henry to her other hip and pointed to an arch of light on the floor beneath the vaulted window. ‘Look, Princess. If we are going to see Richmond Palace we should try now.’
Elizabeth rushed to the window. She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck. ‘But I am not tall enough. I cannot see,’ she wailed.
Lucy set Henry down, but he still clung to her skirts, the only familiar thing in this place. ‘Help me drag this stool, Henry.’ The child transferred his chubby hand to the edge of the wooden stool and then sat on it. Lucy pulled both stool and boy beneath the window, then stooped and picked up the child. She pointed out the window. As if on cue the grayed-out sun shed its light on the great palace. It was a distant view, but clearly visible like a misty painting in the distance.
‘I can see the turrets. Aren’t they beautiful? They go all the way to the clouds. See, Henry.’ Elizabeth’s voice was breathless with excitement. ‘The side with the fourteen turrets—that was Charles’—our brother’s rooms. They were grand. And see those tiny little dots on the great lawn. That is probably the red deer.’
Ignoring his sister as usual, Henry wriggled down to explore the corridor, with Lucy following behind to keep him out of mischief.
‘They were not like the forest deer,’ the girl continued, not caring that he was no longer listening. ‘They were so tame, Father would let me feed them from my hand.’
The wistfulness in her voice brought tears to Lucy eyes. She let the girl stand there, on tiptoe, looking out that window, until the sunlight thinned.
As they were picking their way down a darkening stairway—Lucy had to carry a lamp in one hand and hold on to Henry with the other—they encountered old Carter coming up. He looked startled to see them, but said with his characteristic quiet dignity, ‘I have looked everywhere for you, my lady.’ He reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. ‘This message came for you some time ago. The courier said that it is urgent.’
Lucy’s heart jumped when he put it in her hand. The Great Seal of Parliament. ‘Carter, take the children to the salon. See that they are fed before nurse puts them down for the night.’
He nodded gravely. As Lucy rushed down the narrow stairs, she was only half aware of the princess talking to him animatedly about Richmond Palace. ‘The countess said that we could come again. Every day, if we wanted to.’
‘Did she now?’
‘Maybe we can even take a boat to the park and feed the deer.’
Not until she reached the privacy of her bedchamber did Lucy break the seal.
John was warning her that her cousin Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, was on his way to Brentford with two regiments to turn back the King’s forces assembled on Hounslow Heath. It looked to be a battle with many casualties, but it was necessary to prevent the King’s army progressing into London. He did not think the fighting would get as far as Syon House, but if she should come under pressure from Rupert of the Rhine and his forces she should use her former loyalty to the Queen as leverage.
‘Under no circumstances mention the children and keep them out of sight. You and they are safer if their whereabouts are not broadcast. My darling, I wish I could bring you to Westminster and keep you safe in my arms. But should the King’s forces prevail, you might fare better there than here as I suspect you have not burnt all your bridges and your friends would treat you kindly for the sake of your former loyalty.’ It ended with his instruction to burn the letter, which she promptly did.
It wasn’t long after she retired for the night that she heard, or imagined she heard, the sound of cannon fire in the distance. She lay awake, dozing infrequently. Just after dawn she heard the thundering of horses beating their way up Syon Road, a great company of them. She rang urgently for Carter, who came quickly.
‘I fear we are about to have unwelcome visitors, Carter. Wake the children’s nurse, and you and she take them up to the servants’ quarters. Stay with them and see to their needs. Do your best to keep them quiet. Just tell them you are taking them up for another look at Richmond Palace.’
‘But what about milady? Who will protect you?’
‘Just go quickly, Carter. Do as I say and don’t let them come down until I come to fetch them. I have my wits to protect me and friends in both camps.’
Lucy watched anxiously as the old man shuffled off doing his best with his waffling gait. Please God, protect this house and all who are in it, protect these children. They have nothing to do with this hideous war, she breathed as she dressed.
She heard Elizabeth’s thin little-girl voice as they headed for the stairs. ‘But it is very early, Carter. What about morning prayers and breakfast?’
‘We can get a better look early, your grace, and the nurse has gone to the kitchen to get us some breakfast. We can picnic in the attic.’
‘But is the countess not coming with us?’
‘She will be along later. Now we need to hurry so we catch the early eastern light. And go quietly. We don’t want to disturb any of the maids who might still be abed.’
Poor Carter. If she could not get rid of the soldiers, he had a task before him. He could be stuck with them for hours. Peeking behind the drapery on the west window, she saw two lines of cavalry riding up Syon Road. At least fifty horses followed by two wagons carrying cannon. As they drew closer, she let the drapery fall back in place. King’s scarlet or Parliament’s buff? She couldn’t tell until they got closer. Maybe they were headed toward Turnham Green and would not stop. As she hurried to be near the door she was remembering that she should have removed the children’s toys from the salon. She stood in the hall, waiting for a pounding on the door to see whose soldiers she would have to cajole.
It came quickly. ‘Open in the name of the King.’
She stepped out onto the porch, trying to look surprised.
Two men with red sashes and muskets already on the ground. King’s men. And the King’s nephew was dismounting. In his arms he carried a familiar small white dog.
She dropped him an attenuated curtsy. ‘Your royal highness, welcome to Syon House.’
He looked at her quizzically then grinned in recognition.
‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘You were at court. One of the Queen’s ladies. Countess of Carlisle.’
‘I am flattered you remembered, your grace. It has been a long time. You were hardly more than a boy.’
‘How could I forget. Every man at court—and some of us boys—knew who Lucy Hay was.’
Her palm itched with wanting to slap him. He had always been cheeky. ‘Your mother, Elizabeth, is she well?’
He shrugged. ‘As well as a queen without a country can be.’
‘Yes, an unfortunate outcome. Theirs was a holy cause.’
‘Your queen did not think it holy. Probably why my uncle did not offer aid to his sister’s struggle.’
‘Ah, but in spite of that you have come to the King’s aid. I am sure he is very grateful. What brings you to my door? I’m afraid I have already divested myself of my most prized valuables in the Royal cause. I am but a poor widow with little left to give.’
He laughed. ‘But you own a great castle in Ireland.’
Even she could hear the bitterness in her laugh. ‘There is not much left in Ireland undamaged by the uprisings.’
‘Do not worry, Countess. Minimal damage will happen here. At least not from us. We might even afford some protection. The Roundheads are notorious for their looting.’
Lucy stifled a laugh. This from a man who was reputed to plunder without mercy.
‘I am sure as a friend of the Crown you will not mind if we put a few musket men on your outside wall. And maybe a cannon or two. We are on our way to join the King’s forces mustering at Turnham Green. I think the Roundheads may be planning to bring a barge or more loaded with arms and men upriver.’
She nodded in assent. ‘It is my duty to serve my beloved sovereign any way I can. I hope the cannon will be positioned far enough away that the house will not be damaged if Parliament’s men return fire.’
‘If they do, the fire will probably be coming up from the river. Not within very close range. We will position them on the garden wall.’
Then as if remembering something, he asked if she was alone.
Is he thinking about John Pym? Does he know that Essex is my cousin? Has he heard about the children?
‘Yes, I am quite alone, except for a few servants. We are not well provisioned, but cook can probably scare up something for your soldiers. How many have you?’
‘You needn’t bother, we broke camp before daylight and are anxious to make Turnham Green by noon.’
‘Give my love to the Queen when next you see her.’
He nodded and to her great relief was turning to go when the little dog leaped from his arms and scurried through the door behind her. He bolted down the hall and in the direction of the beige door leading to the back stairs. Lucy’s heart nearly stopped. But at Rupert’s whistle the dog turned sharply and ran back. In his mouth he was carrying a cloth doll and ragging it back and forth as though it were a bunny he had just captured. Lucy laughed picked him up, doll and all. ‘You must give it back, Boye,’ she said in her most coaxing voice. ‘It belongs to my chamber maid’s young niece.’ The dog growled lightly and let go. She handed him back to Rupert, who was looking at the doll with a questioning expression on his face. ‘I can’t believe you carry him into battle with you,’ she said to distract him.
‘I can’t believe you remembered his name.’ He rubbed the dog’s head. ‘He’s my good luck charm. But he’s not the original. Not the one you remember. This one is the smartest. He’s learned to raise his leg whenever he hears King Pym’s name.’
Such juvenile humor, Lucy thought. But the boy never was one for serious thought. It was all a game to him. The war. The bloodshed.
‘That’s what we call John Pym. You know the MP who is behind all the rebels in Parliament. Do you know him?’
‘I was introduced to him once. Briefly,’ she said, glancing over his shoulder at the open door.
Without waiting for a command, the men were already taking the wagons across her lawn, tearing wide ruts. A dozen soldiers at a nod from him led their horses and packs down to the garden wall and took up guard positions. She wondered what else they might have done, what liberties they would take with her property and her person if they knew of her alliance with John Pym.
After Rupert had mounted his horse and led his men away in the direction of Twickenham, she climbed the stairs to relieve Carter, breathing a little prayer of thanks and carrying with her a sudden and very personal sympathy for others who were less well connected. That night she slept in the children’s room trying to comfort them against the sounds of musket fire and cannonballs raining down on the river below. She would not learn until weeks later how those cannons had been employed and how many lives had been lost.