Game of Kings - Dorothy Dunnett [54]
Dudley, already on his feet, reached the Spaniard. “Remember, Mr. Scott’s a valuable hostage, Don Luis. Seat yourself, and we’ll thrash the matter out.”
Mr. Scott! A sensation like the pounding of a die stamp was beginning to operate behind the boy’s eyes. He parried their questions: Had his father, they asked, sent him to capture Don Luis and the supply train? How had he known the train would be there? What would his father pay to recover him?
He was jolted by a Spanish exclamation. “Dios!” said Don Luis in vexation. “I believe the young man faints. He is a person debil, the Scot, in spite of many words. Ay! he goes!”
For Scott, after a moment’s helpless indecision, took the path thus offered. He swayed; he fell.
Woodward stooped over him. “He’s off all right. Better take him back to his cell.”
Don Luis rose. He smoothed a curl, reassured himself of his diamond, and took control of the situation. “But no. It does not value the trouble. You have done all you wish with him now?”
Dudley shrugged and looked at Grey. “More or less.”
“Then,” said Don Luis, “I would prefer much to return the night to Berwick. I shall take him and his friends, and thus there is no need to waste the food. The hostage affair can also begin en seguida, and the questioning gooder organized, no?” He regarded them vivaciously.
Lord Grey became aware that he was dead tired and another hour of the brilliant señor would undoubtedly drive him crazy. He said with a sort of upheaval of a sigh, “Well, theñor; if you and your men feel fit to go back, then it would be a great benefit to be rid of the men right away.”
Don Luis bowed. “Bueno. If you will then write me an order for Berwick …”
“Of courthe.” Grey turned to the desk.
Don Luis watched him for a moment, and then murmured delicately to Dudley, “I fear to beg also the horses from you. The ours were taken and loosed by Señor Scott, and the his will be needed for him and his men.”
Dudley looked doubtful. “Oh. Can’t you manage without? We’re short of hacks just now.”
Don Luis spread his hands. “How manage without? We shall send more from Berwick, and meantime there are lesser mouths to feed.”
That at least was true. Dudley gave in, and had a word with the Master of Horse, who left the room.
Don Luis bowed.
Woodward bowed.
Myles bowed.
Grey bowed.
Dudley spoke to someone at the door, and two of Don Luis’ men, in brave new jerkins, came in smiling and hauled off the inert figure of Scott.
Clamour from the courtyard told of Scott’s men being tied to their own horses; of new horses being brought for the Spaniard’s troop.
“I depart,” said Don Luis magnificently. “For the hospitality, for the food, for the beer, for the horses, for the clothing, a million embracings. My dear lord; my dear sir; my dear gentlemen.”
Everybody bowed again.
“Adiós!” said Don Luis, and left the room.
* * *
Long after the last rider had passed the portcullis, when all at last was still and Lord Grey was preparing for bed, Dudley came, yawning, to share a last cup of wine with him.
“That damned Don!” They laughed a little, thinking of the tar and feathers. Dudley stretched.
At that moment, the wagon with the culverins blew up.
It was much later when they thought of checking the second wagon. The beer barrels were intact, but contained only brackish water, and one of them a slip of paper, which read pontifically, No es todo oro lo que reluce.
“All is not gold that glisters,” translated Mr. Myles, coming into his own at last.
For a long time they digested the implications in silence. Then Dudley said, rather dazedly, “They were all impostors.… Don Luis. Who was he?”
Grey stared thoughtfully at the smoking wreck of the opposite wall. “I don’t know. But I propothe to dithcuth thith night’th work thoon with William Thcott of Kincurd.”
They retired, but not, it is certain, to sleep.
* * *
The long string of horsemen was far away from Hume, driving westward, when the moon came up. The need for hard riding made