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stalked off and gathered up his children. Daniel was chastened. Caught up in his uncritical veneration of Marlborough, he’d forgotten that the Duke didn’t enjoy universal praise even in his own country. It was not only scheming politicians who harboured a grudge against the great man. Humble people like Martin Rye hadlong memories and still nursed wounds inflicted at the battle of Sedgemoor. Daniel stared down at the grave with unease. He wondered what Nathan Rawson would say if he knew that his son had now served a man who’d once helped to quash the rebellion to which the farmer and retired soldier had dedicated himself.
    When Daniel rode off, the words of Martin Rye rang in his ears.
    The blacksmith would be one of many people who’d rejoice when he heard that Marlborough had effectively been stripped of his command.
     
    On 19 February, 1708, the customary meeting of the Cabinet Council was held on a Sunday morning. The Queen’s most trusted advisers shuffled into the room and took their places either side of the long oak table. The pervasive air of solemnity was offset by the suppressed glee of one man. Robert Harley, Secretary of State, was now at the head of an administration with a distinct Tory bias. Not for nothing did he bear the nickname of Robin the Trickster. In appearance, he was small and rather insignificant yet he wielded great power behind the scenes. It had taken guile and perseverance to supplant Godolphin and to bring an end to Marlborough’s glittering military career. Harley was in the ascendant now. As he looked around the table, he was confident that a new and better political era was about to begin. It was time to flex his muscles.
    When a door opened, everyone struggled to their feet. Queen Anne hobbled into the room and cut anything but a regal figure. Flat-faced, overweight and plagued by gout, she wore apparel that verged on the drab. When she took her seat at the head of the table, there was a loud scraping of chairs as the others lowered themselves down again. After looking around the faces that peeped out from their periwigs, she gave Harley a nod. He was a poor speaker with a dry voice but for once it had some sparkle in it.
    ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ he began. ‘As Secretary of State, it is my duty to open this meeting and to set before you the business that we have to discuss.’
    Though he carried on, he did so over audible murmurs of protest from some ministers. The noise slowly built until it was too concerted to be ignored. Harley came to a halt and glanced at the Queen in consternation. Feeling that his position was secure, he’d never anticipated that he might face opposition. He looked down at the notes in front of him but he was quite unable to read them out. While Harley dithered and while the Queen shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the Duke of Somerset rose with dignity. His eyes flicked meaningfully at the two empty chairs at the table.
    ‘I do not see how we can deliberate,’ he boomed, ‘when the Commander-in-Chief and the Lord Treasurer are absent.’
    The announcement was greeted with murmurs of agreement and someone patted the table by way of approval. Somerset had clearly voiced a general opinion. Robin the Trickster made noreply. Facing humiliation, he had no idea what to do. Queen Anne was unable to help him out of his predicament. She, too, was squirming with embarrassment. Somerset pressed home his advantage and repeated his earlier statement. After a long and extremely awkward silence, the Queen realised that a form of mutiny was taking place and that she had no means of quelling it. The unthinkable had occurred. She’d lost her control of the Council table.
    ‘This meeting is formally ended,’ she said.
    Flushing angrily, and with lips pursed in exasperation, she got up and tottered out of the room. Muted laughter broke out and a few handshakes were exchanged as ministers congratulated each other on having made their point so forcefully. An