Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [183]
‘Now that,’ said Lymond, his voice changing, ‘is news.’ And rising swiftly, he opened the shutters. It was a clear spring night, with Jupiter bright as a diamond above. ‘Give me an hour to finish what I have to do here. Jerott, get dressed and set off at once for St Mary’s with Blacklock and Bell. When I’m ready, I’ll follow. We should get directions there, and fresh horses, and with any luck catch up with Sir Graham before the Scotts and Kerrs find their herds or each other.… It’s a pity it’s such a clear night. Randy, I’m sorry, but you must come back with us. Could you arrange post-horses quickly below while the other two dress?’
‘What remains to do here?’ said Jerott Blyth. If you looked closely at Lymond’s eyes and caught the smell of his breath, it was plain that Thompson had liberated him from his lofty principles all right.
‘I,’ said Lymond with simple truth, ‘am going to bed.’
Five minutes later, Lymond saw Blyth and Bell off downstairs, and walked across to where Adam Blacklock was hastily dressing.
He had a bitten finger. ‘She w-wanted to scream,’ he said. ‘So I stopped her. Her c-cloak fell off.’
‘I expect it did,’ said Lymond. ‘And then she w-wanted to scream again?’
It was Blacklock’s turn then to realize that he was not perfectly sober. Francis Crawford was not given normally to mimicry unless he wanted to wound. The artist said briefly, ‘N-not on my account, I promise you.’
Lymond looked up suddenly, searching Blacklock’s face; and his own expression altered. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t baiting you because of that, but you’re a bloody fool, Adam. What happened, you couldn’t sleep and saw Joleta earlier entering my room? In any case, you get the cup and the cash prize as well. Two minutes later and Blyth and Randy Bell would have been in the room, their eyes hung on jemmy-bands.’
‘And now?’ said Blacklock. From the stir below, and the clacking of hooves on the cobbles, they could hear that the others were ready.
He had left a buckle undone. Lymond fastened it, delicately, giving it all his attention, and stood back to admire. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I am going in my drunken lust to visit Gabriel’s sister, candidior candidis, the virginal Joleta. And once there, to rifle at leisure her sixteen-year-old charms.’
Though the headache which had crippled him all evening, Adam stared back at the icy blue eyes. Lymond, worldly as he was, must surely have noted what he had noted. ‘She’s in love with you,’ Adam observed.
‘Is she? Perhaps. We’ll know, shan’t we,’ said Lymond absently, ‘in one hour from now?’
*
But he spent longer with Joleta than that. As Bell, Blacklock and Blyth cantered out of the yard and the tavern settled once more to its rest, Lymond unlocked the room where Adam had concealed Gabriel’s sister. Inside it was cold and dark and only dimly, by her hurried breathing, could one distinguish the child huddled there in her cloak.
Without speaking Lymond crossed the room and lifting her, quite unresisting, carried her in a crushed, silent bundle to his warm, bright room next door. There he laid her softly on the bed, spread out the apricot hair on the pillowcase, and with gentle fingers laid back the cloak, unveiling once more to the firelight the bared silk of her beautiful body. Then he walked away and sat down. ‘All right. Fascinate me,’ he said, and settled back in his chair.
Joleta sat up.
‘And a very pretty beginning. A little too spry, maybe, for the perfect effect. We mustn’t bustle through the programme, you know.’
‘What programme?’ said Joleta. ‘Who were these men? They tried.…’
‘That was Adam Blacklock, saving your honour,’ said Lymond comfortably. ‘The newcomer was from St Mary’s, to tell me that your brother has marched to battle, armed to the halo. I should be there too. I chose, sister-seraph, to be here.’
Sitting bolt upright in a tumble of green wool, golden hair and