Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [299]
‘They ask more than anyone can give,’ said Lymond, his manner suddenly altered, and got up. ‘Is this true? You see beyond Gabriel’s shadow to the ideal of the Order? And beyond mine to … what I mean to do, rather than what I do?’ He smiled, though not with his eyes, and coming forward, stood with Jerott in the doorway. ‘You will find your place, Jerott. Good luck. And God speed you to France.’
He did not touch the departing man, nor did his eyes have in them any of Gabriel’s lucent candour; but Lymond’s voice was as Jerott had rarely heard it, pared of all mockery, and a little of the warmth he was suppressing, despite his effort, showed through.
And for some reason, this brought Jerott’s whole mechanism for speech, emotion and deed to a shuddering halt. He stood, his stomach turning within him, and heard Lymond add, his voice cool once more, ‘How unimpeachably shifty it sounds. What a fate for the tongues of the world, that after Gabriel all that is true and simple and scrupulous should sound like primaeval ooze.’
It was then that Jerott took heed at last of the knot in his belly and the ache in his throat, and announced, regardless of every plan he had made, ‘I should like to stay. May I?’
‘Oh, God, Jerott,’ said Francis Crawford, and the blood rose, revealingly, in his colourless face. ‘Yes … but … oh, Christ I’m glad; but if you touch my back once again you’ll have to see the whole bloody thing through yourself.’
*
He was only just in time. Half an hour later, word came from Midculter that, so said Madame Donati, the Kerrs had received some sort of summons from Graham Malett, and Peter Cranston had gone off to join them. They were Edinburgh bound.
And hard on the heels of that, pounding up to the hingeless door with a handful of broad Scotts behind her, was Janet Beaton, Dame of Buccleuch herself, with grim news that put all the rest into place. Thomas Wishart had been killed—Tosh, whom Lymond had put into Branxholm to guard Buccleuch with his life. And Buccleuch, ignorant of the murder, casting off escorts and lacking Tosh’s persistent protection, had gone off alone.
Questioned, Janet stumped about the floor of the keep, scraping her head under the upturned brim of her hat. ‘I was over at Andro Murray’s place with Grizel, ye understand. Sybilla’s idea; and the lassie’s taken to him, thank the Lord. I heard none of this till I got back. But the bruit was that the Lord Provost had sent for him, on the Queen’s instructions from Falkland.’
‘Sent for Buccleuch to go where?’ said Lymond. ‘Falkland? Hardly. He would have taken a train. Yet he took no one.’
‘He didna take so much as a poke with a sark in it,’ affirmed Janet in her powerful voice. ‘Now that wad argue maybe a place where he had childer and linen? He’s a house in the High Street weel furnished with both.’
‘The High Street where?’ Jerott’s voice was quick with excitement.
‘Edinburgh. Edinburgh,’ said Lymond. ‘You have heard Gabriel’s trump. Gabriel is prophetic. D’Oisel is in Edinburgh; my own troops are in Edinburgh. And the Kerrs. And Buccleuch, poor self-willed gallant old man, unguarded and on his cantankerous own. So of course.…’
‘You’re not going,’ said Jerott quickly.
‘I want Nicolas,’ said Lymond, ignoring him. ‘And the three officers and my brother. Is the man from Midculter still outside? Archie and Salablanca will be reporting directly. Richard to bring Madame Donati and Philippa.… Is that fair? Yes, I think Philippa needs to be there. And Janet … will you come? But with only the men you have here guarding you, no more.…’
Jerott caught his arm. ‘You are not going!’
Under his hand, Lymond had become perfectly still. ‘What in life, do you suppose,’ said Francis Crawford precisely, ‘would sweeten the knowledge that another Scott of Buccleuch had died when I might have prevented it? Oh, Gabriel knows that the news of Tosh’s death will take me to Edinburgh after Buccleuch. But he doesn’t know that I’m bringing his death-warrant with me.’
Jerott dropped his arm as Janet’s powerfully harassed voice