Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [255]
‘Have you?’ said Richard Crawford, and Guthrie smiled.
‘I might have done,’ said Lymond. ‘Except that the Queen Dowager’s activities vis-à-vis Ireland in the past year haven’t mattered a damn; and it seemed a good deal more important to guess Gabriel’s game. Also I could hardly move without discrediting Thompson and hence St Mary’s through the Thompson connexion. All my precautions in that direction have now been nullified, obviously enough, by Thompson’s fool behaviour in Ireland. But that’s something else again. The point is that Philippa seems to have constituted a danger in Graham Malett’s eyes. He made one or two unsuccessful attempts to escort her here and there, and while staying with her on one occasion was much disturbed when the building nearly burned to the ground. The rendezvous at Liddel Keep with Will Scott was his suggestion, and it seems more than a coincidence that the Turnbulls, who lived so conveniently near the Keep, were paid to do what they did when they did. Which brings us to the Hot Trodd.’
‘But Will was killed by a left-handed man,’ said Janet Beaton of Buccleuch suddenly.
For a moment Lymond said nothing. Then he asked softly, ‘Why did Will take the route he did when he followed the Turnbulls, Janet? It took him two days and a night to discover them. Granted they dodged all over the place, but his tracking used to be better than that.’
‘It wasna a matter that was troubling him on his return, so we’ll never know, will we?’ said Janet uncompromisingly. ‘I mind the rest, though, saying something about new hoofmarks coming smack in your eye at every bend of the road like horse-dashings.’
‘You would almost think, wouldn’t you, that they were deliberately being led astray?’ said Lymond. ‘Would a few questions among the men who were on the Trodd do any good, d’you think, Janet?’
‘I could try,’ she said. A big, stalwart woman with a mind of her own, she had caught Sybilla’s eye and was frowning, thoughtfully.
‘Alec? Fergie?’ said Lymond. ‘You were both with Gabriel. Was it possible that for these two days he was leading you away from Scott?’
Carefully, ‘It’s possible,’ said Fergie Hoddim at length. ‘But if you’ll remember, the real hindrance was your own absence and Sir Graham’s reluctance to usurp your command, after that affair of the fuel supplies.’
‘My absence.… Yes,’ said Lymond briefly. ‘Adam, this is where you come into your own.’
Adam Blacklock laid hold of the arms of his chair. His sharpened voice saying, ‘I don’t want to say anything of that!’ clashed with Lord Culter’s, as Lymond’s brother sprang to his feet at the foot of the table and said, his voice harsh with angry disgust, ‘My God, we don’t have to listen to this. Haven’t you smeared Graham Malett with mud enough, without dragging in his sister?’
‘But don’t you think,’ said Lymond pointedly, ‘that Graham Malett has been remarkably successful in maligning me? At every opportunity my drinking, my morals, my ability to organize and my general fitness to command St Mary’s have been called into question. Will’s death was laid at my door; Philippa’s, no doubt, would have been due to me also. In his brotherly concern for me, he did nothing to change Philippa’s own dislike and distrust of me personally, and he made quite successfully worse the unhappy relationship that was developing with Jerott Blyth. If events at Dumbarton had turned out on that occasion as planned, Jerott Blyth would have precipitated the crisis that ended my career at St Mary’s. As it was, Richard bore the brunt, and being my brother, kept it to himself. Which didn’t suit Sir Graham at all. He nearly succeeded at the Hadden Stank in badgering Richard into proclaiming my shame to the world, but not quite. Although I had to be bloody obstreperous, Richard, to get you to break off the encounter before the worst befell. If apologies are any good to you, I offer you mine, publicly, now. If we ever get out of this bloody mess, the credit will be yours. Adam,