Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [285]
Jerott, staring at him suspiciously, considered this edited version of the girl’s death. It did not mention Lymond. But in Sybilla’s presence that was perhaps as well. Only it gave the impression.…
‘This is true?’ the woman’s harsh voice was pressing. ‘Mr Blyth, this is so? Her brother killed her because of her … past?’
‘Because she had borne a child, and lost another before ever she reached this present sad state,’ said de Nicolay sadly. ‘Young Mr Crawford would have protected her. He opened his arms to her, and she would have gone, because she was greatly afraid.’ His arms fell to his side, his face owlish in its gloom. ‘But it was too late.’
‘Sia maladetto,’ said Evangelista Donati in a soft voice, and sat down. ‘Her poor, helpless craving for love became known, so he must discard her, unsullied himself. And he must more than discard her, lest in revenge she let all the world know what this glorious gentleman, this upright monk, this godly Knight of the Order truly is!’ And she rolled her Italian tongue on a word which took even Sybilla by surprise.
Very carefully, Lady Culter settled back in her chair; and Jerott, bewildered, found himself, with Philippa, silently assigned to a seat. ‘Tell us,’ said Sybilla gently, her tone of friendliest interest, ‘what Sir Graham is like?’
*
Afterwards, when Jerott, feeling as if he had shared, for a short time, Francis Crawford’s whipping-post, was standing by the tall windows, looking blindly out; when Madame Donati had gone, her face ugly with weeping, to take her exhausted fury to bed; when Philippa, carried off by a startled Mariotta, had been taken below for some food, Sybilla said, with studied care, ‘But you have said nothing of Francis?’
‘He escaped,’ said Nicolas de Nicolay gently. ‘This was right. He could do nothing further and many are sufficiently roused at St Mary’s to endanger his life. Also, when news of this and of the Magdalena reaches the Queen Dowager, she will send to arrest him. That he cannot risk until the case against Sir Graham Malett is complete. You understand?’
‘We understand now,’ said Jerott Blyth bitterly, and turning faced her, his clasped knuckles, in a childish gesture, pressed on his lips. ‘I have been a thick fool.’
‘I know. But there’s such a comfort in numbers, don’t you think,’ said Sybilla, without really thinking. ‘Could you tell me, do you think, just what happened?’
And at the end of that recital, which exhausted him more than he would have admitted and left Sybilla looking like a princess in paper, Nicolas de Nicolay broke his considerate silence again. ‘There is another thing perhaps you should know, since Thompson does, and the rumour of it you may find in every Mediterranean port.’ Uncharacteristically, he halted.
‘About Malta?’ said Jerott baldly. ‘Sir Graham said Lymond betrayed us on Malta.’
‘Did he? But you would expect him to, would you not? My experience,’ said the geographer, ‘was different, and no doubt so was yours. But no. This dealt with the woman, Oonagh O’Dwyer.’
‘They say she was O’Connor’s wife,’ said Jerott quickly. From Sybilla’s face, it was clear that the fate of Oonagh O’Dwyer was no secret.
‘I do not know. I should regard that, if I were taken to task, as a small misapprehension on O’Connor’s part,’ said de Nicolay easily. ‘But I meant something other. They say she did not die.’
‘She drowned!’ said Jerott. ‘When Lymond.… When Francis was forced to swim away from her.’
‘I am glad that you accept his story,’ said the cosmographer, his smile glimmering about the mouth. ‘It is a true one, I am sure. But I am told that she did not drown, though he was intended to think so, but was most carefully rescued by Dragut Rais, and tended in his harem after the knights’ ships had gone.’
‘Why?’ said Sybilla bluntly, her face white, her breathing painfully short.
De