Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [246]
The thin-boned, high-nosed face was flushed with emotion. Dandy said quickly in a troubled voice, “Lady Culter. You can’t know what you’re saying. Mariotta was young enough and troubled enough to turn to me. I couldn’t deny her help.” He stood up suddenly, anxiety in his face. “Is this how she is explaining it to Richard? To whitewash Lymond and put the blame on me?”
Sybilla, neatly swathed in gauze and laces, was the calm within the hurricane. She stretched out a slender hand and retrieving brooch and box, returned them to her purse. “Mariotta still thinks the jewels came from Lymond,” she observed, fixing the distrait man with candid, cornflower eyes. “But I think she ought to know that you have now tried to kill her husband four times.”
There was a little, breathless hush; and then Sir Andrew said, “Good God, Lady Culter,” and sat down unbecomingly. “But this is nonsense. Do you mean to accuse me of … ?”
Ke stared at her, breathing quickly, and then slapped one hand on his desk. “No! No. I’m damned if I’m going to be scapegoat. I’ve a very soft spot for you all, Lady Culter, and for Mariotta especially, but I can’t let you twist and pervert facts to get your beloved son off the gallows. Give some thought to my mother, at least.… The only person who has tried to kill Richard is his own brother.”
“Facts?” said Sybilla. “At the Papingo Shoot Francis aimed twice: once to cut the cord and the second time to kill the bird. Then he dropped the bow and quiver and left the glove. You were the person first on the spot: you had already tried and failed to free yourself of Mariotta and Agnes.”
Sir Andrew’s flush had paled. “It’s still nonsense,” he said steadily. “You know I can’t shoot. Everyone knows that.”
“You can’t shoot at a Papingo target,” said Sybilla, “but you are an excellent marksman on the flat. Everyone knows that, too.”
“It’s Lymond’s word, in that case, against mine. Do you suppose for a moment—”
“Oh, of course. You’ve no evidence against you,” she said, “any more than you had when you led Richard and Agnes Herries over a part of the Nith notorious for its potholes. Happily, Richard is a very strong swimmer. And there were, I suppose, too many witnesses.”
“I pulled him out myself,” exclaimed Hunter. “Lady Culter—”
“But the third and fourth times,” said the Dowager, “there was evidence.”
She had effectively stopped his protest. He made a little gesture of resignation. “You’d better tell me.”
“Do you need to be told? I had some simple tests made with the herbal drink you brought from your mother for Richard’s use. They tell me Mariotta would have been a wealthy and marriageable widow very quickly if he had drunk it.”
He said quietly, “Go on. And the fourth occasion?”
For the first time, Sybilla lost a little of her self-command. She said, “Do you know, if you had succeeded then, I think you would have had to answer for it yourself to those same gypsy gentlemen and not to me today. He was on his way to Mariotta when they attacked him … but you knew that, of course. It must have seemed quite fool-proof at last: Romanies can only be controlled by their King. Unluckily for you, their King at the moment is controlled by me. He learned of your commission and stopped it just in time. Richard isn’t dead, Sir Andrew; and I have three men who will swear to having been paid by you to assassinate him.”
Hunter’s manner didn’t alter: only his eyes, meeting hers, were curiously bright and impersonal. He said carefully, “You are evidently bribing whoever you can to save your son. Forgive me, but if you take this any further I shall have to take steps legally to protect myself.”
This time Sybilla herself got up, moving away from the table with a rustle of petticoats. She said over her shoulder, “I haven’t taken it any further—yet. But don’t be misled. The fact that I am here doesn’t mean there is the least uncertainty; the least hope for you. There isn’t any. The only doubt is in my own