Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [309]
‘In any case,’ said Lymond, and unclasping his hands he rose slowly to his feet and stood, head bent, looking down at Gabriel. ‘In any case, Tosh was killed, and by your men. Trotty Luckup, too, was killed, because she knew too much about Joleta.… Madame Donati has told us all we need to know about that. And because Philippa Somerville had the same piece of information, she also was attacked and is lucky to be alive.… Of all these things we have proof.’
Gabriel stirred. ‘Must I hear this?’ he said. ‘With the jewels you obviously have, with whatever wealth you have earned as your wages, you can bribe whom you like to say what you like. What you did on Malta and in Tripoli cannot be condoned. Nothing you fabricate now can obliterate it.’
‘Shall I ask Nicolas de Nicolay to speak?’ said Lymond softly. ‘Or would you care to see this, that I took from your clothing the day that you, not I, tried to escape to the Turkish camp at Mdina? A piece of white paper, Sir Graham. A dirty, bloodstained piece of white paper with a message in English of the most loyal intent on one side. And on the other, a note in your own handwritten Arabic, giving them all the information they needed about the Receiver’s false message from Sicily.’
It was defeat. His eyes wet for the annihilation of what had never truly existed, Jerott Blyth saw Gabriel draw himself up, as he seldom did, to his full magnificent height, the golden head high; all his thoughts, all his attention on the younger man standing still above him on the carpeted steps.
‘Dear me,’ said Gabriel mildly, the great voice pitched for Francis Crawford alone. ‘What an importunate young man you are. You have just cost me, I believe, a quite excessive amount of my time. I shall be interested to pursue the matter with you, on some other occasion. At the moment … de Seurre!’
Then Jerott realized that he was going to appeal to St Mary’s. The great company whose allegiance he had so confidently set out to command was here, deployed round St Giles, brought there at the first opportunity by its officers after d’Oisel’s full escorting corps had been removed. One would trust de Seurre and des Roches and the rest to have done that without bloodshed. Their aim was not to escape but to see justice done, to be present at what touched them so vitally: the Vehmgerichte of their two leaders.
But they would not expect to escape mortal issues if they placed themselves now in Gabriel’s hand. The axe was too sharp and too sweetly polished to fail. Good as the French were, if the Order now clove to its own: if the knights stood firm in their devotion to Gabriel; if Plummer, if Tait, if all the souls Graham Malett had enchanted now came at his call, and brought their army with them, the French would melt as agate on the hot blade, and the weapon Lymond had forged would be loose, under Gabriel, in the world.
So, ‘De Seurre,’ said Graham Malett, his voice firm, his fair face sober and set. ‘Antichrist is here. I can do no more against him, or against these poor souls who malign me. Give me your hand. Come with me. Add your great spirit and your prayers to mine, and bring with you all who would come, pure and loyal and unsullied, before the great Throne of God.… Absolve, we beseech Thee, O Lord,’ said Graham Malett, and tall and still at the foot of the steps he faced the high altar, his fair head flung back, his eyes on the Cross. ‘Absolve the souls of thy servants from the chain of their sins, that being raised in the glory of the