Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [311]
There was the flat silence of extreme exhaustion, both of the mind and of the body. Then Lymond said, ‘Yes.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Jerott said; and the manner in which he said it was the apology he did not think of making. Then he said, ‘There is no need for you to be here. I can take this convoy to Amiens.’
There was another silence. Then, ‘No,’ Lymond said. ‘No. I shall stay with it.’
‘You can’t stay with it like this,’ Jerott said. And when Lymond made no answer, he said, ‘What does it matter? There will be a truce. In a few weeks you can return to her anyway.’
‘I can’t,’ Lymond said. ‘I can’t. That’s the trouble. I don’t think I can go back at all.’
He had his palms over his face. ‘The marriage is incomplete, Jerott. And there is no way that I can go on with it any longer.’
*
On arrival at Amiens, the Marshal de Sevigny proceeded directly to his business, which was the preparation of a camp in which to receive and lodge, feed and water an army of sixty thousand with its arms, munitions and horses; and to arrange, according to the plan of battle, a suitable disposition for the artillery, the sentries and the various companies and their leaders.
It was decided to bring extra cannon from Paris. Jerott Blyth, extremely grim-faced of late, left to arrange it, and bore with him a note from the Marshal de Sevigny to his brother.
This he took to the Hôtel de l’Ange, avoiding Austin Grey but insisting on being seen by Lord Culter who received him, the letter opened and read, with summary courtesy. ‘You know what this letter contains?’
‘Yes,’ Jerott said. ‘Francis believes the Cardinal may have guessed that you all know the truth about the dowry papers which signed away Scotland. Have you seen any evidence of it?’
‘None,’ said Richard Crawford. ‘Nor does my brother give reasons for thinking so. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps it would merely suit him to speed our departure, now that he has shown his coat to be so unequivocally Gallic.’
Jerott, his face red, clung to his temper. ‘Soldiering is his trade. He merely follows it. In any case, surely common sense alone tells you to leave France. Such things don’t remain secret for ever.’
‘Particularly,’ Richard said, ‘if you have a brother as nimble as I have. I’m told that the impossible has occurred, and the Duke de Guise’s pedestal trembles. Let Francis only bring down the Cardinal, and the power he wanted is here, with Scotland, no doubt, as his colony. Is anything beyond him now, even a princess?… Or no, I forgot. He is, shortsightedly, still legally tied to his present wife.’
Lacking the finesse to reply, and unwilling to knock the man out of the window, Jerott left him. To Marthe, whose interest he could count on, he eventually was able to relieve all his feelings.
She had no comfort to give him but sent him back, at least calmed, to the source of his anxiety at Amiens. Then, having made sure of her privacy, Lymond’s sister prepared her travelling coffers, her mules and her servants and set out for Blois and her house in the street of the Popinjays. From there, she lost no time in calling on Philippa.
*
The comtesse de Sevigny was in the gardens when Marthe sought her, and Applegarth had to lead his surprising guest by marble steps and wide paths through arbors and elm bowers, past knotbeds and box groves and walled orchards and water gardens until at last she was discovered, in a grotto canopied by a vine trellis. Before her was a marble sarcophagus, on which lay a number of papers trapped by pebbles, and she was sitting on a low stone bench beside it, dressed in the loose Andalusian robe which had become all the vogue recently, and writing busily.
Nicholas Applegarth, who had not met Marthe before, was sufficiently instructed by rumour to know that it might be wise to remove her from the house, and relied on Philippa’s good sense to receive her without warning.
Even so, when he called gently, ‘Madame!’ and Philippa looked up, he wondered if he had acted correctly. Then Philippa rose and said, ‘Marthe. I’m glad you have found your