Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [340]
‘But these are sad affairs, and we must rejoice. The summer is over and we are here in good health, to begin all the pleasures of winter. You shall see, you Russian Scotsman, what we mean in France by the chase. M. de Nemours will challenge you again to ride up the Palais de Justice steps and down them as well: you will beat M. le Vidame at jeu de paume and caress us with your lute and teach the Dauphin—here he is, eager to learn—how to sledge and to slide in the snows, as you did in Muscovy. Do you not long for the winter?’
Ils m’ont salué vilaine
Margot je suis leurs fievres quartaines,
Vignes, vignes, vignolet:
Margot labourez les vignes bient tost …
… said the gay lute; and stopped. ‘Forgive me, your grace, but I shall not be at court,’ Lymond said.
The King put down his cup, the black eyes glancing at Culter’s impassive face and then back to his Marshal again.
‘A few days: I can understand. You must recover your strength: you have family business no doubt to discuss. But I require,’ said the tres-hault, tres-puissant, tres-vertueux et magnanime Prince Henry, in a voice which did not match the last of his attributes, ‘that you should be present for the banquet of the Order on Thursday. And that, M. de Sevigny, is a command.’
Francis Crawford of Lymond and Sevigny laid down the lute. Then walking forward, he knelt very slowly at the King’s feet and lifted his head to speak to him.
‘Once before, sire, I asked you to accept my honours and you refused them, for France, you said, had need of my services. That time is over. You may hunt without my aid, and M. de Nemours may ride up and down the steps of the Palais de Justice with other companions. I contracted to stay in France for a year, and I have done so. I beg now to be allowed to leave the light of your presence.’
Outside in the courtyard a group of bored noblemen were playing a game of cheval fondu. The noise rattled the leaded panes in the windows. Someone spoke in a low voice outside the door.
The King said, ‘What do you lack? I have treated you en naturel françois. There is no privilege you have not received from us. Is this to be our recompense?’ He gave no sign that M. Crawford should rise.
Lymond said, ‘You have honoured me far above my deserts. You will appoint a Marshal of France and a Chevalier of the Order without difficulty ten times more worthy. My collar and my bâton are both here in the hands of your officers and I now resign the sash into your keeping.’
He slipped it over his head as he spoke and held it between his hands, the green and gold of the Little Order sparkling on it. The King said, ‘You have misread the rules of this Order. It is one you resign with your life.’
‘Then my life is in your hands,’ Lymond said.
In a slow glimmer of vermilion, the Cardinal of Lorraine moved forward a trifle. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘M. le Maréchal should be permitted to stand. His Majesty will recall that he is speaking to a sick man. And perhaps, sire, you would allow me to ask M. de Sevigny what employment he has in mind, that exceeds in honour and consequence that of a liegeman to the Most Christian King of France?’
If it had been possible to continue kneeling, thought Richard grimly, no doubt Francis would have done so. But instead he rose, his manner a little more studied than usual, and said, ‘M. le Cardinal is thoughtful.’ To the King he said, ‘I go, sire, to no other master. My family affairs call me home to Scotland, and I hope to sail there shortly with Lord Culter and, once there, to live privately on my estate.’
No one, in a matter as