Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [44]
There had been almost no warning. But an instant before the Grand Master’s accusation was achieved, Lymond’s own face changed from the odd, waiting expression it had worn all day. Alight with surprise and with discreet laughter he said, half under his breath, ‘Christ! The three mutes with the bowstring!’ Then, as two or three of the knights began, in the surge of talk, to jump to their feet, Francis Crawford pulled himself together and moving forward, addressed de Homedès, his voice clear and precise.
‘I beg your pardon. Perhaps I may set your minds at rest most quickly by saying that I have no intention of leaving this island until the attack is over—if it comes. How could I, anyway? The brigantine that brought me has gone, and the Order controls the harbour in Malta. Even if I were an agent of France—which I am not—I could do nothing but report, if I live to report, how the Order bore itself under threat of the Turk. And the Order, I take it, has no objection to that?’
By the time he ended, he had silence to speak in. Gabriel’s voice followed immediately. ‘The Sieur de Villegagnon has laid down his career. Both he and M. de Lymond in coming here have offered their lives. We risk being called un-Christian if we ignore these facts.’
‘We risk being called gullible if we look at no others,’ said the Grand Master. ‘What, for example, is to prevent this young man from betraying all our defences, should the Turk land?’
‘Nothing,’ said Lymond mildly. Gestured still nearer, he had moved a pace or two into the centre of the hall and stood relaxed, his head bare, his hands, holding his hat, lightly clasped at his back. He wore no sword. ‘Nothing. Except that if the Turk lands, the King of France’s warning is substantiated. And if the warning is genuine, why should I be otherwise?’
The eye patch stared at Francis Crawford’s emotionless face. ‘Shall we say,’ said the Grand Master at length, his hands flat on his knees, ‘that the Grand Turk is not wholly as yet under France’s control, and that the King of France might desire an agent at hand in case affairs take an unlooked-for turn?’
‘Let us say so, by all means,’ said Lymond gently. ‘So long as Malta is fortified against exactly such a danger, I should willingly place myself under irons for the length of any attack. All of my French colleagues would no doubt tell you the same. On her present resources, Malta can withstand only the briefest of sieges without outside help. You intend to bring Holy Church naked within reach of the infidel. For that, I salute your faith. Allow us to bolster it further with such measures as are within our means.’
There was a short silence. In one unexceptionable speech, M. de Villegagnon’s companion had delivered a number of plain truths, of which the plainest was a challenge as well. ‘Unless your fortify, you will fail. And you will not be permitted to blame that failure on your French knights or on me.…’
The Grand Master stirred. Under the grey brows his good eye shone, sharp and bright. ‘I would remind you, sir,’ he said, ‘that alone of all those here present you have made no vows and are under no restraint. As to your … detention, I may well take you at your word. As far as your colleagues, as you term them, are concerned, I should attempt no such impertinence. I trust they will forgive you yours.’
He raised his voice. ‘M. de Lymond, since you have chosen to come to this island, you may not expect to leave it without our permission. M. de Villegagnon, we thank you for bringing our dear friend the Constable’s dispatch. You have both our permission to retire.’
With nothing settled, nothing planned, these two dangerous men were being dismissed. De Villegagnon, his hat crushed to his thigh, said brusquely, ‘Jean! Graham!’ and took two impolitic steps towards the dais. One of the priests by the Secretary’s table stepped in front of him; one of the Spanish Piliers, getting up in a hurry, knocked sideways his heavy chair with the painted crest on the back. De Villegagnon had probably