Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [84]
The last arrow, which was a featherless bolt from a crossbow, soared over the field and clubbed the central pole of the spectators’ awning under which Adorne sat, bringing down the rest of the frame and causing the cloth to empty its heavy burden of water over the broken timber and struggling people below. Anna was knocked to the ground.
The arrow ejected by Nicholas drove through the air with great force, and striking Julius, bored clean through his body.
Zeno set his horse at the crowd, and identifying the rogue with the crossbow, shot him dead.
In the field, Julius cried out, dropping his reins. His body inclined, remained caught by one foot, and then toppled finally on to the ground. Nicholas, brought crashing down by his horse, scrambled to his feet and stood still, his face ghastly. In the pavilion, Adorne, bruised and soaked, flung debris out of his way and began lifting canvas and shards to locate Kathi. Robin, doing the same, found and helped Anna, who had injured her shoulder. Kathi was discovered dazed where she had been thrown, her pallid face powdered with dust. Opening her eyes, she saw her uncle and Robin and finally Anna, risen with blood on her arm. Looking up at the tatters above her, Kathi said, ‘Someone sneezed?’
Robin snorted, his eyes very bright. Her uncle knelt. Anna, dropping beside him, was exclaiming. ‘Kathi? Are you all right? Is the baby all right?’
‘The …?’ said Robin slowly.
‘What?’ said her uncle.
Anna looked up, and then down to catch Kathi’s grimace. She bit her lip. ‘I’m a fool. You hadn’t told them,’ she said. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I guessed; I thought everyone knew.’ From shock and distress her eyes were filling. Adorne stooped and, lifting her, steadied her shoulders.
Kathi said, ‘They were going to have to know some time. Don’t worry.’ She spoke automatically. Her gaze on Robin, she was trying to rescue the moment, to recreate it, to exchange, without words, all the things that should have been said, for the first time, when she told him. Reading his eyes she knew, suddenly, what he, too, was trying to say, and would say when they were alone. But for the moment, he simply dropped to where she was and took her in his firm, enveloping embrace, and she found herself crying as well.
It was then that they heard someone calling for Anna.
Nicholas, standing straight-backed by the rigging of the mast, watched Adorne approach, helping Anna over the uneven grass. She wore a scarf round her shoulder and arm. By then, the horses had gone and there was a ring of people about Julius’s body. One of them was a physician. Zeno could be seen at the edge of the field with the President, examining the corpse of the man who had brought down the pavilion. There was no doubt, of course, about who had brought down Julius. They were kind enough to say that it couldn’t be helped, in the rain, with his horse falling and the arrow already sprung. Anna came up and looked at him and cried, ‘What have you done?’
What have you done! Night, and an icy river outside Berecrofts, and an old woman’s voice flinging the same bitter words at him over the still body of someone else who did not deserve to die. If there was justice, this was justice. Nicholas looked at the beautiful woman Julius had married and replied, ‘I have killed him.’ Then the violet eyes turned from him and she walked slowly to where her husband lay, the slanting eyes closed, the shapely limbs slack, and the careless, life-loving spring of wilful enjoyment all stopped.
Nicholas found that Adorne was standing beside him. Adorne said, ‘I have spoken to those who saw it. It is not your fault. I am sorry.’ He paused. ‘You suspected there would be an accident to the awning? You said something of it.’
He had more than suspected; he had known. Jelita’s masters had made sure of that. Poland disliked Genoa and dared