Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [353]
‘On the other hand,’ said Danny Hislop, ‘I can take it to him.’
He moved backwards as she advanced and stepped into the daylight, leaving the lamp set behind her. ‘Do you know what it is?’ said Marthe softly. Master Nostradamus, his back to the window, had said nothing.
‘Lyk an aspen leef he quook,’ said Danny defensively. ‘Don’t tell me! A little knock with a wakener? A knife for the shoulderblades?’
‘Oh come, Mr Hislop,’ said Marthe. ‘You knew from the beginning at Lyon that Philippa was hunting for some papers exposing the Crawford family. They came to light in Paris and she and Francis suppressed them. Lord Allendale told me he thought there was another copy, and here it is.’
‘Forgive my lack of surprise,’ Danny said. ‘It is, I assume, a document certifying the poor bastard’s bastardy, if I may so refer to your brother. Since he’s on his way home, there seems little point in flourishing it now. I can either take it to him, or help you burn it.’
‘I am sure,’ said Michel Nostradamus, ‘that Mistress Marthe does not mean to dismiss any course of action that seems reasonable. But it might be sensible to discover first what you are burning.’
The silk had already been slipped from the scroll and Marthe, her long fingers parting the fold, was about to break open the seal. She was smiling at Danny as she did so. ‘At least,’ she said, ‘my authority is greater than yours. What did your Scottish king say? Marry never a priest’s get?’
‘I never heard of anyone worth the name who got the chance,’ Danny said. ‘I give you instead Daniel Hislop, who said that bastards should only marry each other. Can you make it out, or do you want me to read it to you?’
‘I can make it out,’ Marthe said. She was looking at the astrologer.
‘And what are you going to do with it?’ said Danny Hislop.
‘Publish it where it will hurt most,’ said Lymond’s sister. ‘I am going to show it to Richard Crawford, and watch him thrust it in front of his mother. Did you not know that the stately Sybilla has committed incest?’
‘No,’ said Danny.
‘Or that our eminent Marshal is the child, as I am, of the first Lord Culter, Richard’s grandfather? Perhaps,’ said Marthe, ‘if I hold the paper like this, both you and Master Nostradamus may read it and satisfy yourselves about the true nature of this little family. Don’t you think, Master Hislop, that I shall enjoy Lord Culter’s next visit to Paris? I don’t think on that occasion I shall be expected to skulk in an attic.’
Danny had reached the bottom of the parchment. He said, ‘Christ in heaven,’ and then started again from the top. At the end he looked up and met the chilly blue eyes of Marthe. He was not smiling.
‘And this is your revenge for bastardy?’ said Danny Hislop. ‘How long, in this world, can a woman remain a bloody juvenile? You’ve knelt in the dirt, and so have I before the Bastard of France and the Bastard of Scotland … my God, we all watched Jenny Fleming produce one. You and I can’t hand on our money—openly; we can’t hold some kinds of high office—openly; but the rest of it doesn’t matter a damn, least of all to you. You’re as hard as cooled steel, Madame Marthe, except in one direction. You resent what Lymond’s family did to him, and you want to watch them suffer for it. What you don’t see, you stupid bitch, is that what hurts Culter and his mother hurts Francis.’
‘Even after your spirited dismissal of the stigma of bastardy?’ Marthe said. She had rolled the parchment and replaced the silk on it. Nostradamus, who had not accepted her invitation to read, remained standing where he was by the window.
Danny said, ‘I didn’t tell you the other side, because you know it. You and I don’t have a family. They have. They were brought up together. They need each other, and support each other. It’s too late to change any of that. Whether he ever marries again or not, Francis has that; and if anything happens to him, the rest of the family have each other. You won’t get him now, Marthe,’ said Danny Hislop. ‘Now that you want him.