Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [196]
Next day they reached Newcastle in the late afternoon, and the first voice she heard in her new quarters was that of Gideon Somerville.
In Berwickshire by the same evening the hounds were very nearly up with the hares when the scent ran suddenly cold, and, casting about, Tom Erskine and Culter found traces of a considerable company of horse recently passed through to the north.
It was Richard who turned about in the tracks of the convoy and, cutting off the first straggler he could find, made him talk. At dusk he rejoined Tom Erskine, his face ridged with weariness. “It was a convoy for Haddington. Their scouts took in the two men we’re after—Wylstropp honoured the safe-conduct and let them go—but they haven’t gone to Berwick.”
“They haven’t!”
“No. Grey is at Newcastle, and he’s leaving there for Hexham to pick up reinforcements from Lord Wharton. Our men are making cross-country for Hexham. One other thing.”
“What?” said Tom Erskine with the flatness of apprehension. They should have caught these men before they reached Berwickshire. Now they were adrift on the Lammermoors, with the reel of their journey suddenly doubled in length.
“They know we’re behind them. Wylstropp’s forward scouts had already spotted us and decided not to interfere.”
Erskine said sharply, “Well, what of it? They’ll expect us to make for Berwick, not for Hexham.”
Lord Culter spoke savagely. “You don’t know my brother. He’s no fool. In all Britain, Grey couldn’t have picked a better man to help him.” And whipped up his tired horse.
* * *
Arriving at Newcastle that same Friday, Gideon Somerville discovered that Lord Grey had gone to Hexham and was expecting him there. At the same time he found that the Countess of Lennox was in town with the girl Stewart in her train. Gideon, who had mentally made every plan to avoid her ladyship, changed his mind.
He had five minutes alone with Christian Stewart: no more, but enough to learn of the bargain made for her life.
She had trusted him; he could do no less in his turn. “Lymond is free,” said Gideon briefly. “He went to George Douglas to try and get access to Harvey.”
She arrested a sudden movement. “But Harvey is dead. He’s been dead since Tuesday.”
He understood her dismay. “Crawford left to go to Douglas on Tuesday. I suppose there’s no doubt Sir George will know of Lord Grey’s demand and will tell him. It’s damnable … but it seems to be your life or his, you know.”
“Do you think they’d dare touch me?” said Christian with contemptuous rage. “And even if they did, that it would matter? He must be stopped,” she said. “He must be stopped. But how?”
“But how?” was still unanswered next morning, when he found with mixed feelings that he was to have company to Hexham. Grey’s meeting with Wharton was to be graced with the presence of the Earl of Lennox, and the Countess, on hearing that only twenty miles separated her from her husband, decided to join him instead of going direct to her home. Lady Christian, her women, her men-at-arms—and Gideon—went with her.
Without any very high hopes Somerville had spent part of the night making his own limited dispositions. He had posted a man north of Newcastle in case Lymond tried to trace the girl so far, and sent a small party of his own household in a belated effort to watch the other hill routes which a man crossing from Scotland to Hexham might take.
It was more of a gesture than a plan. It seemed likelier that Lymond would make straight for Berwick and there be captured, voluntarily or involuntarily. As his party rode out west through the green water meadows of the Tyne that morning Gideon, sunk in thought, rode in the rear and left Margaret Lennox and Christian to their own devices in front: a small lapse, but one that afterward he found hard to forgive himself.
On the night before Lady Lennox and her party left Newcastle, two parties of men slept in exhaustion on the Redesdale hills, closer than they knew, until, sensing the coming dawn, the most hardened of them all raised himself on his elbow.
Acheson was furiously