Part II

The Seal of St. Mark

Six

Sir George Lazender, Toby’s father, was a worried man.

He had friends who thought him always worried, gnawing at problems when the meat was long gone from the bone, but, as August ended in 1643, Sir George had real reasons for concern.

He had hoped to forget his worries for a morning. He had taken a boat from the Privy Stairs and landed in the city. Now he was in the precincts of St. Paul’s Cathedral indulging his passion for books, yet his heart was not in it.

“Sir George!” It was the bookseller, coming crabwise behind his stall. “A fine day, Sir George!”

Sir George, ever courteous, touched the brim of his hat in response to the bookseller’s greeting. “Mr. Bird. You’re well, I hope?”

“I am, sir, though trade is bad, indeed it is, Sir George. Very bad.”

Sir George picked a random book from the table. He could not face a long discussion of the new taxes which Parliament had imposed and for which, as a member of the House of Commons, he was partly to blame. Yet it would be discourteous to ignore the bookseller, so he waved at the cloudless sky. “The weather is on your side, Mr. Bird.”

“I thank God it’s not raining, Sir George.” Bird had not even needed to bring out the canvas shelters for his tables. “Bad news from Bristol, Sir George.”

“Yes.” Sir George opened the book and stared, unseeing, at the pages. Even less than he wished to discuss trade did he wish to discuss the war. It was the war which was his chief worry.

“I shall let you read, Sir George.” Mr. Bird, thankfully, had taken the hint. “That copy is a little foxed, Sir George, but still worth a crown, I think.”

“Good! Good!” Sir George said absentmindedly. He found he was reading Harington’s translation of Orlando Furioso, a book he had owned for twenty years, yet by burying his nose in the poetry he might escape the greetings of his many friends and acquaintances who used the bookstalls at St. Paul’s.

The King had taken Bristol and that, in a very strange way, worried Sir George. It worried him because it suggested that the Royalists might be gaining the upper hand in the Civil War, and if Sir George changed sides now, then there were many men who would say he did it out of fear, deserting Parliament in a cowardly attempt to join the winning side, and that was not true.

Sir George wanted to change sides, but his reasons had nothing to do with the fall of Bristol.

War had begun the previous year and Sir George, as a loyal Parliamentarian, had no doubts then. He had been offended, deeply so, by King Charles’s use of illegal taxation, and the offense had become personal when the King had forced loans out of his richer subjects. The loans, Sir George knew, would never be repaid and he was among the men who had been robbed by his monarch.