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Northwest Passage, Part Four

Written by Herbert and William Sakalaucks

London, September 1633

 

"Another political delay!" Cecil Calvert, Lord Baltimore, maintained an outward calm but seethed inwardly. Years of political maneuvers to secure a charter for a new colony had taught him the benefit of maintaining an appearance of calm in the face of frustrating setbacks and delays. Lately, he'd had to call on that trait more times than he cared to remember. The Calvert brothers had been waiting in Lord Strafford's outer office for over an hour in response to an urgent summons.

This made the third trip to Whitehall Palace to deal with delays about the colony. The Ark and the Dove were waiting at the Isle of Wight to reboard the colonists and sail for Maryland. The ships had already sailed once and been recalled by Charles. The note hinted that something similar might be happening again.

Cecil turned to Leonard, his brother. "I hope this isn't another problem with the Virginia Company's directors. I have the king's personal assurance that the issue is settled."

Leonard shrugged. "Maybe he wants more money for the charter. I hear he's spending much more than he can afford for these new mercenary companies. The navy's put to sea to support the French and that's going to cost too. Maybe he thinks you have a bottomless purse."

"I hope not. Even my resources are limited and these delays have stretched me to the limit." The funds to resupply his Newfoundland colony had gone to feed the settlers on the Ark and the Dove. The few settlers remaining in Newfoundland would live or die on their own efforts.

Further conversation was cut off by the opening of the door. A clerk appeared. "Lord Baltimore, Lord Strafford will see you and your brother now." He stepped back and bowed them in.

Thomas Wentworth, Lord Strafford, remained seated at his desk. The dour look on his face warned Cecil that the news was not good. Cecil and Leonard made the obligatory bow.

Cecil started the conversation. "I received your summons, Thomas, and came as quickly as feasible. How may I serve you?"

Wentworth avoided eye contact. "I won't mince words, Cecil. The king has revoked your charter. I'm sorry to be the bearer of this news." He passed a parchment with the king's seal across the desk.

"What?" Cecil quickly read the document. As he reached the end he saw his world crumble and lost his composure. "Is this another maneuver by the Virginia Company, or just an attempt by Charles to extort more money?"

"Neither, Cecil. It has nothing to do with you. His Majesty no longer has a charter to give."

"You mean he's sold it to someone else? What about the funds I've paid?"

Wentworth finally looked up. The stress of his position was evident in his gaze. "My Lord, I summoned you to tell you directly, before the rumors started. His Majesty has sold all of his possessions in the New World to France. I've also been ordered to send word to your ships that they are not to sail for Maryland. In fact, Charles does not want them back in England, either. He told me emphatically, 'since they're Catholic and don't seem to care to live in England, they're free to go elsewhere.'"

"But . . . but, my company and investments. What is to become of them? And where will my people go?"

"My friend, be thankful you are still at large." Wentworth had a strange look that awoke both Calverts' political senses.

"How many?" asked Leonard.

"More than I care to count. Anyone Charles senses as a threat or who complains about his activities." He turned to the older Calvert, "I truly am sorry, Cecil. History says you would have been successful."

"What do you mean, 'history says'?"

"Since Charles saw the books from Grantville that said Cromwell would overthrow him, his only thought has been for his personal survival. You're mentioned prominently in those histories. Just about everything they said about you was good and loyal. That's why you're still free."

"But what do I do now? All my wealth depends on starting the colony. My friends and their families are waiting to sail."

"I don't mean to sound cruel; Cecil, but I've got bigger problems than two ships full of colonists. The king sees schemes everywhere and I have to personally deal with them. Go see Richelieu. Your colonists are Catholic and he still needs someone to settle those lands he's just acquired for France." Wentworth sounded as though he made the comment half in jest. Then he then picked up a parchment and quill and started to write, avoiding any further eye contact. It was evident that the appointment was done.

Before he could say something he knew he would regret, Cecil motioned for Leonard to accompany him and they walked slowly to the door.

****

The atmosphere during the ride back to Cecil's London house was like an afternoon storm waiting to break. Cecil just sat and brooded. Once, Leonard started to ask a question, but Cecil raised a hand to cut him off. A brusque "Wait" was all he said.

When they arrived at the townhouse, it was evident that he had reached a decision. "Leonard, perhaps he's right. Have Matthew start packing. We leave for Paris as soon as possible. First I have to send instructions to George about the colonists, and contact some friends in Paris."

****

Bad news traveled quickly. The money lenders drove hard bargains. Only by mortgaging Arundel, his ancestral estate, was Cecil able to raise enough gold to possibly entice the French into ratifying his now worthless charter from Charles. Everything he held dear was now dependent on his meeting with the French. For the first time in his life, Cecil faced money problems and the stress showed.

During the boat trip down the Thames to Gravesend, he kept harping on the fact to Leonard that he should have gotten twice the amount from the lenders for Arundel. Occasional comments on Charles' ancestry and concern for the stranded colonists were the only breaks in the litany. When he started in again after they boarded the ship for La Havre, the normally mild-mannered Leonard finally told him to shut up.

Surprised by his brother's outburst, Cecil apologized. "I'm sorry, Leonard. I'm just so overwhelmed by what's happened."

"I know, brother, but you need to concentrate on what's coming. You've always been the driving force in the family. I'll help where I can, but you have to shake this fugue that's settled on you."

By the time they reached Paris, Cecil's attitude was nearly back to normal, but he still was nervous.

 

Paris, October 1633

 

When they arrived at their Paris lodgings, Cecil sorted through the mail that had been waiting for them. Most were social invitations. "Hopefully the letters I sent get us an introduction to Richelieu. The bribes were expensive enough. It was fortuitous that I met with St. Chaumont while he was in England. He seems to have Richelieu's ear on this matter."

Leonard looked dubious. "I wouldn't count on seeing Richelieu immediately. My contacts tell me everyone goes through the intendants first. Etienne Servien will probably be the best we can hope for to begin with."

"If he actually listens, I can live with that. If he's just another with his hand out for a bribe, the delay could be serious." Cecil continued to scan the invitations and decide which he would accept

Even with the largess that he had spread around to expedite an audience, it was still two weeks before the hoped-for invitation arrived, along with another invitation.

Opening the important note first, Cecil read it quickly. "Just as you predicted, brother; it's to be Servien first. We're to meet him tomorrow."

"And the other?"

He held up the other invitation, "News travels fast. It's from Jean de Lausen, director of the Compagnie des Cent Associes. It seems that we're invited to a party this evening, for dinner and cards. I should go, but I need to prepare for our meeting with Servien tomorrow and a good night's rest would be in order." He handed the invitation to Leonard. "Why don't you go in my place? I'm sure de Lausen will understand. It should be a good opportunity to make some contacts with our possible competitors. Besides, you're a much better card player than I am. Just be careful with the wagering. Our funds aren't limitless."

Leonard stared at the invitation for a moment. "I must confess, I'm curious to find out more about these American card games people are talking about." He slipped the invitation into his breast pocket. "I'll put no wagers. Tonight, I'll go to study the games and the players. I can mix and ask questions without risking our funds, or revealing our intentions. People talk more when they think they have a naïve fish nibbling at their line."

****

The room was ablaze with candles and the doors to the balcony were open to alleviate the heat. While he surveyed the crowd gathered around the wealthier patrons and the card tables, Leonard noticed the moths that fluttered around the flames. The similarities between the moths and the crowd were striking.

"Monsieur Calvert?" A well-dressed Frenchman addressed Leonard speculatively.

"You have the advantage of me, sir."

"Jean de Lausen, your host. I hoped you or your brother might be here tonight. Your arrival in France was a bit of a surprise."

Leonard was instantly wary. "We're pursuing some investment contacts. Nothing serious has been found so far."

De Lausen seized on the opening and launched into a sales pitch. "Maybe you've heard of our company? The new treaty with England has greatly expanded our opportunities in the New World. We're looking for additional investors. Maybe you would have some time to discuss your investment needs with our directors?"

"We might. If you would send a note to our lodgings, my brother and I will try to fit you into our schedule."

"Would Friday work for you? I'm sure you'll need time to digest the results of your meeting with Servien tomorrow."

Leonard kept a poker face. It seemed their meeting was not a secret. "I'll discuss your proposal with my brother once we've received your note. He will make the final decision."

De Lausen finally recognized the brush off, but bowed graciously. "In the meantime, let me introduce you to other, like-minded, guests here tonight," he offered, motioning to a group gathered around a card table across the room.

After introductions and some desultory small talk, Leonard settled into an open spot to watch the card game. After a few hands, a light touch on his elbow caught his attention.

"Does Monsieur play poker?" The silk brocade coat and jewels shouted wealth and nobility.

"I've heard about it. I'd hoped to see it this evening and learn some of the finer points before I risk my funds."

His unnamed acquaintance continued, "I prefer primero or baccarat. They're more civilized games, but I would be glad to explain it."

"Thank you. That is most gracious." Leonard was positive his companion was important, but didn't want to cause an embarrassment by asking his name.

Over the next hour, Leonard was educated on poker, with a continuing litany of how it was inferior to French card games. The inane comments started to grate. As he was trying to find a polite way to excuse himself, Leonard was saved by the approach of a footman.

"Monsieur Gaston, your carriage is ready as you requested."

His companion turned to him. "Monsieur Calvert, I hope I was of help this evening. I must be off. Until we meet again." He bowed and followed the footman out.

Leonard hid his surprise. This was no coincidence. The king's brother spending an hour with him, and knowing his name signaled that he was fishing in deep waters. After waiting a reasonable period, he thanked de Lausen for the convivial evening and returned to his lodgings. He wanted to discuss the unexpected turn of events with his brother, but he had already retired for the evening.

****

The next morning, breakfast was cold by the time Leonard finished relating the events of the previous evening. Cecil let Leonard relate the entire series of meetings before commenting. "I can understand de Lausen's interest. He's concerned about his monopoly. If we're successful, his charter loses value. That fiasco back in '29 with the Kirke Brothers almost wiped them out. Losing an entire expedition is expensive."

Cecil paused. "I should know, we're there right now, too. What I can't fathom is what Gaston's intentions are. He loves to intrigue. I don't know what he hopes to gain here. Did he give any indication why he was interested in us?"

"Nothing," Leonard said. "Just that last comment about meeting again. Maybe he's heard something about today's meeting. It seems everybody has. Or maybe he was just fishing."

****

The meeting with Servien started out as a replay of their last visit to Whitehall. They sat and waited. This time, though, it turned out that they weren't kept waiting just to bolster someone's ego. Servien himself opened his door to escort a French naval officer out. Their discussion continued as they walked. They didn't notice the waiting visitors.

Servien was evidently giving some final instructions. "Make sure de Villareal realizes the importance of stopping that expedition! He must do whatever it takes, as long as it cannot be traced back to us. We have enough unrest among our own settlers without someone else stirring the pot."

He handed the officer a dispatch pouch and then realized that the conversation might have been overheard by the visitors. Without missing a beat, he switched to mundane pleasantries and dismissed the officer.

Once the naval visitor had left, Servien came over to his waiting guests. "My apologies. The officer arrived just before you with urgent dispatches that required my attention. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable." He bowed and motioned for them to enter.

The office was very utilitarian for someone of his rank. The single window was glazed with clear panes that admitted a good quantity of light. A carved sideboard held a carafe of wine and glasses for entertaining. He offered refreshments, but Cecil declined.

After assuring that his guests were comfortable, Servien sat down behind the desk, leaned forward, and addressed his visitors. "Lord Baltimore, Monsieur Calvert, how may I be of service to you?"

Cecil's first impression was that they were dealing with a dangerously competent official. He decided on a direct approach. "Monsieur, as my note indicated, my brother and I have come to Paris on matters concerning the recent French and English treaty on lands of the New World."

Servien just nodded, so Cecil continued.

"My family has made a significant commitment to settling territory in the New World. We hold a charter to a large section of land at the head of the Chesapeake Bay. We've come to ascertain if France intends to honor that charter."

Servien leaned back, steepling his fingers. "You raise an interesting question. Your charter is from King Charles, who no longer owns the territory. The Compagnie des Cent Associes has a charter from King Louis to all the lands in the northern Americas. It appears to me that your problem is with Charles."

Now Cecil was sure he was dealing with a dangerous opponent. Servien's reputation as Richelieu's best intendant was justified. His best hope was to go on the offensive. "Lord Strafford washed his hands of the issue. He suggested that the cardinal might be interested in our situation."

"How so?"

"I currently have two ships ready and waiting to sail with nearly one hundred and fifty Catholic settlers. All that is needed is His Eminence's blessing."

"And why should His Eminence consider this? Didn't England try to destroy France's Canadian settlements recently? The Kirke brothers' treatment of Roquemont's expedition nearly bankrupted the Compagnie. His Eminence is a major contributor and lost a great deal of money."

"You have my sympathy, but I was not involved in that affair. It was regrettable what happened, but that, too, was Charles and it is in the past. Let me be blunt, the Compagnie has had a poor record of encouraging settlers to emigrate. I offer a fully-funded expedition, ready to sail. Moreover, a Catholic expedition that no longer has ties to England. Charles has forbidden their return."

"That, I was unaware of." Servien paused a moment to digest the statement. Up to that point, he appeared to be following some well-rehearsed lines. His next comment confirmed that. "His Eminence is aware of the other issues you've raised. You have a valid point on the advantages to be gained by firmly planting a Catholic colony between Plymouth and Virginia. However the matter of your charter has already been discussed and settled. Someone has already paid the Compagnie a sizeable sum for the territory just north of Virginia."

Cecil caught the emphasis on "just north."

Servien picked up a paper from the desk and slid it across to Cecil. "The cardinal has authorized me to make the following alternative proposal to you. For the sum of 250,000 livres and ten percent of the annual revenues from the colony, he will ratify your charter from Charles, with some changes. The sum will pay the shareholders in the Compagnie for the loss of their opportunities in the region and the expenses they suffered in the recent unpleasant affair."

Cecil started to ask a question, but Etienne held up a hand for silence. "In addition, His Eminence will increase the size of your holdings. It will include all the territory between the headwaters of the Chesapeake and Plymouth."

The offer took both brothers completely by surprise, but Cecil rallied quickly. "But what of the Dutch? I would think they might object."

"That is quite likely. That is why two additional ships will accompany you. A frigate and a transport with troops will remove the Dutch squatters. Peaceably, if possible, by force if necessary. You will start your settlements by occupying New Amsterdam." He sat back in his chair. "His Eminence does not expect an immediate answer. Can you return in three days with a reply? A simple yes or no will suffice. Understand, His Eminence will not negotiate the terms. Your colonists are not that important to him."

Leonard sat quietly to the side during the exchange. It seemed the negotiations had devolved to a "take it or leave it" proposition. Some of the previous evening's events now made sense. When Cecil interrupted his thoughts and asked, "Is that agreeable brother?" he simply nodded. He knew Cecil had only about the English equivalent in gold of 100,000 livres and was probably trying to buy time.

"Let us study the proposal," Cecil said. "We may need a few more days to contact our bankers. This wasn't an option we had considered."

"Very well, but no later than next week. Other operations are underway that cannot be delayed. The Compagnie is prepared to proceed with, or without, your participation. Right now, you are merely a convenient opportunity that could quickly become inconvenient."

"Rest assured, Monsieur Servien, we will give you a timely reply."

****

Once in the carriage, Leonard turned on Cecil, "What in the name of all that's holy were you thinking? You didn't even try to negotiate! You know full well we don't have that much money! We have no hope of raising those types of funds. Unless you know of a gold mine in this new territory, no sane banker will lend us that amount of money. Not after the fiascos the Compagnie experienced these past few years." He pulled at his hair in frustration.

"Relax, brother. If my hunch is correct, we should get an invitation from your card-playing instructor in the next day or two. If we keep our heads, we may come through this in relatively good shape."

****

Cardinal Richelieu sat by the window in a dressing gown, enjoying a light cooling breeze.

"Your Eminence, I met with the Calverts and made the proposal as you directed. Their reactions lead me to believe we may have overestimated their financial means. They are definitely stalling for time. Lord Baltimore does not have what you would call a poker face. His brother does, but when I mentioned money, Lord Baltimore looked worried and pained."

"That's all right, Etienne. If they can raise the funds, we win. If they cannot, we still win."

"I don't understand."

"There is a philosophy from the future that says a successful war is one that pays for itself. If they raise the funds, we will ...