Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [191]
‘Then,’ said Guthrie, enunciating, as ever, to the class, ‘If that’s what the Kerrs are afraid of, and it must be, it’ll do them a lot of good to prove otherwise. I think they think we’re concealing something. I suggest we deal with it by setting them free.’
‘Leaving them? I should be against that under any circumstances,’ said Gabriel. ‘But who agrees with you?’
They were having a break for bannocks and water, and perhaps a mouthful of wine, before the last stretch. After two days of it, although with adequate rests, they were a little stiff and looking forward now to an end. Here in the dark, with the dim shapes of their own men moving ahead and the concourse of Kerrs moving, muttering, munching beyond, they replied in undertones to Gabriel’s question. No one thought they should abandon the Kerrs. But there was some agreement that they should split up.
Some time ago, Walter Kerr had approached Gabriel with the rasped suggestion that they would search a good deal quicker in small companies. Now that they knew for certain that the Kerr herds were not actually in the settlement, it was only common sense to search around.
Thus, when both Walter and John Kerr, pale with irritation at having to ask, required once more a gentleman’s freedom to scatter and scour as they went, Gabriel gave his assent.
On the information his company then had, no one could have done other. But when Adam Blacklock, gaunt in the darkness, came racing up to them half an hour later, they realized, listening appalled, that the Kerrs knew the fate of their cattle—must have been told in secrecy, while they rode at their sides. And that all the Kerrs now out of their sight, including Cessford and Ferniehurst, their sons, Mark Kerr of Littledean and the rest, had gone straight to the scene of the slaughter.
It was then that Gabriel at last took command. He put under guard all those of the Kerrs within reach, and using the last of their torches, led the race to the scene of the butchery. Except for their black monoliths, wavering in the torchlight, the fields were empty of life.
Without stopping, Gabriel and the men from St Mary’s rode through. Over two hills they came to the Turnbull family’s cabins. They were ablaze, the window spaces lit with clean orange, the stench neutered in the bright flare of fire. In the light, bright as day, you could see the trail of the Scott cattle, leading west towards Liddel Keep.
The Kerrs could hardly have missed it. Silently, in their turn, Lymond’s army, led by Graham Malett, followed as fast as they dared.
*
Philippa Somerville was annoyed. To her friends the Nixons, who owned Liddel Keep, and with whom Kate had deposited her for one night, she had given an accurate description of Sir William Scott of Kincurd, his height, his skill, his status, and his general suitability as an escort for Philippa Somerville from Liddesdale to Midculter Castle.
And the said William Scott had not turned up.
She fumed all the morning of that fine first day of May, and by afternoon was driven to revealing her general dissatisfaction with Scotland, the boring nature of Joleta, her extreme dislike of one of the Crawfords and the variable and unreliable nature of the said William Scott. She agreed that the Dowager Lady Culter was adorable, and Mariotta nice, and that she liked the baby.
By late afternoon she mentioned that his lordship of Culter was a very nice man, of quiet rather than vulgar colouring. He was also very wealthy. It was, indeed, to save him worry over his mother worrying over Joleta that she, Philippa, had agreed to come. Which being the case, it seemed only appropriate that the said Richard, Baron Culter should come and fetch her himself.
There was, however, no need to send for Lord Culter. Just after midnight Sir Will Scott arrived, and hammering on the Keep door, awakened the household. With him, milling round in the darkness, were three hundred yelling Scotts, armed to the teeth, and what seemed like the whole of a Candlemas Fair, bleating and bawling outside