Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [196]
James Stewart and Erskine of Dun, one noticed, were less communicative. Rumour had it that they had already had a brief encounter with Lymond on his first day in Dieppe; and had caught him, perhaps, in the same temper that he had displayed in the house of Jean Ango. At any rate, the magic had failed to work in this instance.
In which case why, of all the company, did Sybilla choose to spend most of her time with these two?
Because, his observation told him, she saw, as he did, that something lay between them and Francis. And because, as ever, the matter of Francis occupied her still, to the exclusion of virtually everything else.
After that, everything he saw confirmed it. The rejection he had hoped for had not taken place. Thrust into her son’s daily company Sybilla faced, in the weeks ahead, a test of endurance far harder to bear than his desertion.
After Berwick, after Dieppe, one was not fool enough to go to Francis, cap in hand, and plead yet again for a reconciliation. On Lymond’s part the separation was quite clearly final, and had been before he left Scotland. What Richard needed to know were his reasons. And then, to the best of his powers, to convince his mother that Francis would never return to her.
To be private with anyone in the midst of such pageantry was not easy; and less so if every obstacle is placed in your way by your quarry. It was not until Rouen that Richard found his brother alone; and then only by dint of following him into his bedchamber when he walked in, divesting himself of his elaborate surcoat and proceeding swiftly to change it for some plainer clothes, brought him by Archie.
It appeared he had an appointment with a sculptor called Hérisson, and was not willing to linger. Neither did Archie show any sign of budging. Richard closed the door and said, ‘Perhaps you can give me an answer while you are dressing. What is the source of the trouble between you and Sybilla?’
‘Ask her,’ Lymond said. Archie, unfolding garments from a coffer, did not look round.
‘I have. She says I am not to concern myself with it. It seems to me, in view of her age and frailty, that I must concern myself with it.’
‘Is this supposed to be something new?’ Lymond said. He picked up a shirt and slid into it. ‘You seem to have charged often enough at that particular target to be fit to stop a bull by his horns in full fury.’
‘Is it to do with Eloise?’ said Richard bluntly.
Lymond’s full attention was being given, briefly, to the knotting of his shirt-cords. ‘Did Sybilla say it is?’ he said. He looked for his doublet armhole, found it, and slinging the garment on, began to fasten it.
‘No.’ Richard, harassed, turned to look at Archie and Archie’s black eyes, unwinking, outfaced him. Richard said, ‘I don’t want to hear your miserable secrets. But for Sybilla’s sake I want some answers. I once accused you of wanting your sister dead. I did you, perhaps, an injustice. The fact remains that she told me …’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lymond said. ‘Unless you wish to follow me into the street, I am afraid we must abandon our gossip. So full of fruyte and rethorikly pykit. Gloves. And no, the other hat. Money?’
Richard said, ‘She told me one night that she had no wish to go on living, and that if she did, it could only harm you. She was thirteen years old.… Can you not stand still, and look me in the face, and give me an answer?’
‘No,’ said Lymond. He had gone now, fully dressed, to the door of this room where he turned, Archie behind him. ‘If you are asking, did Eloise make no effort to avoid the explosion which killed her, the answer is probably yes. If you are also asking, was I her lover, the answer is no. After all,’ said Lymond, ‘that would be incest.’ And with a click, the door closed finally after him.
That night, Richard retired early and drank himself grimly insensible while Lymond, with faultless bonhomie, was adorning his third Hôtel de Ville banquet. He did not know that Sybilla, who had also excused