The Song of the Siren

My grandfather looked at her steadily. “Have you ever heard of an Emperor who took his fiddle and played while Rome was burning?”

“I’ve heard of him,” said Harriet, “and I have always thought he must have been devoted to the fiddle.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” said my grandfather. “Let me tell you this, that in the life of our country things happen which at the time seem of small importance to those who are too blind to see their real significance, or who are so bemused by their desire for peace that they look the other way. And what affects our country affects us. A little boy has died. Prince William, Duke of Gloucester. That little boy would have been King in due course. Now he’s dead. You may think it is unimportant.

Wait and see.”

“Carleton, they should have called you Jeremiah,” said Harriet mockingly.

“You get too excited about things which may never happen,” put in my grandmother.

“Who is going to lead the dance?”

My grandfather rose and took her by the hand. I was not the least bit interested in this talk of conflict about the throne. I didn’t see how it could affect me.

How wrong I was, I was soon to discover.

It was the following day. We were all seated at table again when we had a visitor.

Ned Netherby had ridden over from Netherby Hall and he was clearly distraught.

He came into the hall where we were gathered.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” my mother began.

Then we were all staring at him, for he had obviously ridden over in great haste.

“Have you heard?” he began. “No ... evidently not....”

“What’s wrong, Ned?” said my grandfather.

“It’s General Langdon.”

“That man,” said my grandfather. “He’s a Papist, I truly believe.”

“He obviously is. They’ve caught him. He’s a prisoner in the Tower.”

“What?” cried my grandfather.

“He was betrayed. He tried to drag me in,” said Ned. “Thank God he didn’t.”

My mother had turned pale. She was avoiding looking at Leigh. I could sense the terrible fear which had come to her.

No, I thought, not Leigh. He won’t get caught in any plots.

“That’s why he was here ... a little while ago,” went on Ned Netherby. “He was trying to recruit ... an army, I suppose. He’s been discovered, caught. It’ll be his head, you’ll see.”

“What was his plan, do you think?” said Carl.

“To bring James back and set him up on the throne, obviously.”

“The rogue!” cried my grandfather.

“Well, it’s come to nothing,” said Ned. “Thank God I kept out of it.”

“I should hope you would, Ned,” said my grandfather. “Papists in England! No. We’ve had enough of their like.”

“I thought I’d come ...” Ned was looking at Leigh.

“Thanks,” said Leigh. “I am not involved either. It was good of you, Ned.”

“Thank God for that. I knew he had been here. Do you think we shall be suspected?”

My mother put her hand to her heart, and Leigh immediately laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not,” he said. “Everyone knows our leanings. We’re staunchly behind William and we shall be with Anne.”

“And after her the Hanoverians if she has no issue!” roared my grandfather.

“The same with us,” said Ned. “But I thought I’d let you know.”

“So he is in the Tower. It’s where he belongs.” My grandfather his fist on the table, a habit of his when he wished to show authority or vehemence. “What do you think he was going to do, eh, Ned?”

“He hinted when he came here,” said Leigh. “He’s sounding people out to find out how many would rally to James’s banner if he came back. I don’t think he found many.

We’ve all had enough of war. As for civil war, there’s not a man in the country who wants that. James will be wise to stay where he is.”

“Well then,” said Harriet, “the plot is over. I wonder what will happen to our General?”

“It’ll be his head,” growled my grandfather. “We cannot afford to have his like prowling around. It’s a sorry state of affairs when generals in the King’s army are ready to play the traitor.”

“The trouble is,” said Harriet, “he would think it was you who were playing traitor to James, who was after all the King.”

My grandfather ignored her and my mother said, “Ned, do sit down and join us.”

She was very grateful to him but I knew she was going to be uneasy for some time to come. Ever since my grandfather had been taken during the Monmouth Rebellion she was terrified of our men becoming involved in some intrigue.

She was at her most fierce when she spoke of their folly in this respect.

That evening had lost its festive air. I was melancholy thinking of the gallant General in a comfortless cell in the Tower of London and contemplating how easily ill fortune could come along.

We heard more of the affair as the days passed. It was not being generally regarded with any great surprise. There had been so many who wanted James back and the Jacobite Movement was known to flourish throughout England. The only difference was that this might be considered to be of more importance than most of the plots because it was being organized by one of the generals of William’s army.