Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [263]
It seemed to Philippa a good programme, apart from the allowance of rest for the little mistress, which was excessive, she felt. But long before her mare, now slowed to a walk, had begun to climb the long, grey reaches of the Border, she found creeping into her mind a little, gem-like fantasy of herself, in her thickest white nightie, and even her bedsocks, and even a hot brick as well, curled up on her mattress filled with Bass Rock feathers, under her striped woollen blankets and her silky cotton-stuffed quilt, with the curtains run all round the rods and a candle beside the bed, and a book, and nothing else except her own warm, breathed-out air. ‘I’ve got a blister on my bottom,’ said Philippa. ‘Let’s sing a long song. A rude one would be nice.’ And because Cheese-wame Henderson was a simple man, as well as a nice one, they sang.
The big tinker had a hill pony, unshod, with feet like a baby’s. On the soft ground the little, slippered beat could hardly be heard, and he had wrapped the bit and stirrups with fragments of rag. He travelled light; all his worldly possessions buried carefully in a marked spot by Tyneside, and carried only a bit of sacking with some food in it, and a long knife, and a blackthorn club, tied to the saddle.
He took his time. He wanted to think about Cheese-wame Henderson, to begin with; and he liked privacy for his violence, well away from the commerce of Northumberland, where sheltering nature did half the job for you. So he followed carefully, and drew back at Tilsit where, not far away, the cottagers were too nosy; and then, dropping back as the river thinned and quietened, he pattered gently behind Philippa and Cheese-wame, waiting his moment.
*
At Boghall the meeting was over very quickly, once they had eaten. Lymond had left first, to go straight to St Mary’s, and Nicolas de Nicolay was to follow shortly. Janet, with Tosh in attendance, had wanted to return to Branxholm, and Lady Jenny, knowing her anxiety about Wat, let her go. Alec Guthrie had gone with her. And Thompson, Hoddim and Blacklock had dispersed also, with business to do.
Riding home with her older son silent beside her, Sybilla showed despite herself the strain of the past hours. She had been bitterly concerned about Francis returning to St Mary’s now. Collect your evidence by all means, she had argued; and when you have it complete, take it to the Queen Dowager and let her act. But why go back yourself, when you know that the trap is about to close? Gabriel is about to make his definitive bid for leadership with the help of Joleta. The Queen Dowager, when she hears about the Magdalena, will be forced for the sake of peace with England to support him. Why risk your life?
‘I like my fun,’ Francis had said briefly. Pressed, he had given other reasons. His strength had been, and still was, his supposed ignorance of Graham Malett’s nature. Until the proofs he needed were gathered, such as they were, he must not put Gabriel on his guard. Then, since messages had to pass between Joleta and St Mary’s, and between London and Falkland, there were probably a few days in hand before anything could happen. Joleta, obviously, was unable to travel. The news—the shattering news, said Francis ironically, his eyes hard—would break with maximum impact, when he and Gabriel and as many as possible of the disaffected were present. In Gabriel’s eyes, Lymond must realize now that Joleta was about to confess to her brother what he had done to her. If Lymond stayed away now, it would be open cowardice, from which Gabriel could make any capital he liked. On the other hand.…
‘It is always possible, you know, that he may overreach himself,’ Francis had said calmly, tucking her skirts round the planchet for her. ‘He’s not the only rhétoriceur in this cringing district. And although I can’t expose Joleta for what she is, she may expose herself. It is, in any event, a battle I have to face and survive if I can. Because