The Song of the Siren by Philippa Carr

his had nearly cost him his life at the time of the Monmouth Rebellion, in which he had taken an active part and come before the notorious Judge Jeffreys. It was rarely mentioned in the household but I had heard of it. It upset everyone very much if that time was ever hinted at. However, he was safe enough now. Protestantism had been firmly established in England with the reign of William and Mary; although there was always a faint fear that James the Second might try to return, and I knew that a lot of people secretly drank to The King Across the Water, meaning James, who was sheltering in France as the guest of the French King.
    Now there were whispers that King William was ailing. He and his wife, Mary, had had no children; and when Mary died, William had not married again. He was a good King though not a very likable man, and when he died there was a possibility that James might attempt to come back.
    I knew this was a source of anxiety to both my mother and grandmother. They had a woman’s contempt for wars in which men liked to indulge generally to no purpose, as Harriet said.
    Someone mentioned the death of the little Duke of Gloucester, the
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    son of the Princess Anne, sister of the late Queen Mary and sister-inlaw of the King.
    The little Duke had lived only eleven years.
    “Poor woman,” said Arabella. “What she has gone through! Seventeen children and not one of them to live. I hear she is heartbroken. All her hopes were centred on that child.”
    “It’s a matter of concern to the country also,” said my grandfather. “If William is not to last long, the only alternative is Anne, and if she does not produce a child what then?”
    “There’ll be many eyes turned towards the throne during the next year or so, I’ll swear,” said Leigh.
    “You mean from across the water,” added Thomas Willerby.
    “Aye, I do,” agreed Leigh.
    “Anne has many years left to her. She is thirty-five or thereabouts, I believe,”
    said Priscilla.
    “And,” said my grandfather, “she has shown she cannot bear healthy children.”
    “Poor little Duke,” said my mother. “I saw him when we were in London once exercising his Dutch Guards in the park. He was a real little soldier.”
    “A sad creature,” said Harriet. “His head was too big for his body. It was clear for a long time that he couldn’t last long.”
    “Eleven years old and to die! The King was fond of him, I think.”
    “William has never had much affection to spare for anyone,” said Leigh.
    “No,” agreed my grandfather, “but a King’s duty is not to spare affection but to rule his country and that is something William has done with commendable skill.”
    “But what now, Carleton?” asked Thomas Willerby. “What now?”
    “After William ... Anne,” said my grandfather. “Nothing for it. We can hope that she produces another son ... this time, a healthy one.”
    “If not,” said Benjie, “there may be trouble,”
    “Oh enough of all this talk of strife,” cried Harriet. “Wars never brought any good to anyone. Is this Christmas talk? Let us have a “ttle more of the season of peace and goodwill and less of what will happen if.... If is a word I never did greatly like.”
    Talking of wars,” said my grandfather with a malicious glance at
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    Harriet. “There is going to be trouble over Spain. What do you think”-he glanced towards Leigh and Benjie-“of the grandson of the French King taking the crown of Spain?”
    “Dangerous,” said Leigh.
    “Not good,” agreed Benjie.
    “Now what has Spain to do with us?” said my grandmother.
    “We can’t have France in command of half of Europe,” cried my grandfather. “Surely you see that.”
    “No, I don’t,” said Arabella. “I do believe you like trouble.”
    “When it’s there, we’re not so stupid as to turn our faces from it.”
    Harriet waved her hands to the gallery and the minstrels started to play.
    My grandfather looked at her steadily. “Have you ever