Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [146]
“At Buccleuch’s suggestion.”
“I wasna exactly holding them off,” admitted Sir Wat. “Are ye mad at me?”
Sybilla looked at him a little sadly. “On the contrary,” she said. “I wish I had thought of it first.”
From Sir Wat, she went straight to her own room. Before nightfall, with the Queen’s permission, and Sym, borrowed from Christian, riding at her back, the Dowager had left Dumbarton and was travelling quickly south.
Deep in the rock of the castle, the room Richard now occupied was not unpleasant. It was barred, and there was not overmuch furniture; but it was possible to sit and read in relative comfort, and his jailers served him respectfully and well.
Later, they left him alone. Sounds of the world faded early outside, and the cool night air, flowing through the clenched bars, whispered peacefully.
O row my lady in satin and silk
And wash my son in the morning milk.
“Slippers?” asked Kate Somerville.
“Yes.”
“Razor?”
“Yes.”
“The blue doublet?”
“I knew it!” said Kate triumphantly, and whipped open the case. Artfully concealed beneath the top layer of clothing was an antique and greasy garment which, shaken out, assumed the shape of a shambling and corpulent Gideon, unlike and yet hideously familiar. “This year,” said Kate, “the maids will have blue dusters. It’s snowing again. Don’t you wish you were staying at home?”
Gideon, introduced to fresh misery, groaned. He glanced at the shopping list his wife had tossed to him, and groaned again. “Why you should believe that the shops in London will be any better than the shops in Newcastle …”
“I don’t suppose they are,” said Kate frankly. “But if I go to Newcastle I pay for it; whereas if you buy it in London, you do.…”
Gideon Somerville had no desire to go to London with Lord Grey. Since the curious December episode of the cattle raid, the winter at Flaw Valleys had passed in snow and relative peace. He set out now because he would not ignore a summons from the Lord Lieutenant, who was uneasy about his command, and who would not rest until he had laid his troubles before the Protector himself.
While he and Lord Grey were on their way south, the Protector issued a proclamation in the boy King’s name to the gentlemen in his main recruiting shires.
Our rebels the Scots, relying on foreign succours, prepare to attempt the recovery of the forts which we have won and built in that Kingdom, and to annoy those who have submitted to us and our subjects on the frontiers. We have already gained such advantages over them as may make them remember our tender years, and wishing still to defend our country, we require matters to be taken to this end in your shire …
The Protector also sent for the Earl and Countess of Lennox.
* * *
As all Scotland now knew, Mariotta was brought to Lymond’s headquarters, and laid in the Tower. The surgeon came; her son was lost; the surgeon left. Alone of all the people involved, Lymond himself knew nothing of these things. A week before Richard’s arrival at Dumbarton, Lymond left Dalkeith at last and rode through the snowy goldfields to the Tower.
He heard the news from Turkey, almost in silence; then climbed the stairs slowly to his room.
Sitting before the fire, a sweet and ample vision of pink and gold, was Molly. Divorced from the glittering background of the Ostrich, the shining hair and limpid eyes were emblems of innocence: she looked as if she had been attending decumbitures all her life.
As Lymond came in she pulled herself out of her chair and, holding him in her warm embrace, kissed him lightly and drew him to the fire. Then, signing for silence, she moved quietly to the intervening door into Will’s room, and shut it. “The girl is in there,” she said, and came back and seated herself beside him.
“How is she?”
“Fair enough. You heard we got a doctor?”
“So I heard.”
“Yes. Well, it was that boy of yours, Scott, who insisted. Incidentally—”
“Yes?”
She hesitated. “It was the same boy who came to fetch me from the Ostrich. Did you know he also had business with Dandy Hunter?”
The preoccupied blue eyes