Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [159]
The King stood. He staggered once, and then mastered his balance, a young, long-nosed, auburn-haired man of medium height, gazing across at the only brother that mattered: the wayward, sulky, athletic brother who possessed the freedom a king did not have, and used it in ways a king often envied. The King said, ‘Sandy?’
Albany had fended himself off the high chair. ‘You don’t believe it?’ he said. ‘My God, I never thought you’d believe it.’ He looked amazed. On the steps, Scheves hadn’t moved. Near the bottom, Johndie Mar suddenly shouted. Tobie looked at Scheves, and away.
The King stood, breathing fast. Then he swept his arm round. ‘Don’t I have to believe it? Look! Who else could have done this? They said you would poison me. They said you would poison me, Sandy.’
‘Who?’ said Albany. The amazement was giving way to slow rage. He said, ‘You fool, you’ve been duped. This man Simpson has duped you. But for Nicol, I would never have known. We let him carry out his plan, just to show you what he could do.’ He laid his fists on the chair back and shot his face forward between them. ‘He hasn’t succeeded in poisoning you, has he? By God, if I wanted to kill you, James, I’d have done it.’
‘Seize him!’ said the King. He was white. Preston’s men looked at one another. The King raised his voice. ‘Send for my Guard. Bind the Duke, and de Fleury, and throw them both into prison. And the rest. Anyone who hasn’t taken the draught. Cochrane is awake. Thomas Preston. The lady, Cortachy’s niece. Who else?’
Davie Simpson looked dazed and happy at once. He looked about, his fine skin bright, his lashes dark on his cheek. ‘Dr Beventini?’ he suggested. ‘I cannot guide your grace in the matter of the Archbishop. But Master Roger did not partake.’
‘I did,’ said Will Roger. ‘I’ve just been sick. Look.’
‘I’d rather not,’ Kathi said. Gelis opened her eyes.
The King returned curtly to Simpson. ‘Where is Cortachy?’
‘Here, my lord,’ said Anselm Adorne from the door. Moved by the wicked precision of timing, Tobie quelled an unnatural impulse to laugh. Alone of them all, the Baron Cortachy was coolly and properly dressed, his hair brushed under his cap, his fine-boned features serene. There was a page behind him, carrying something. At a sign, he placed it at the feet of the King. Adorne said, ‘The bale from Milan. It came unsolicited, with a false seal and note from Messer Portinari. Its opening was witnessed, and the contents certified to be alum, and not agaric. The drug was not imported by me, but by someone else. It is unusual, and can no doubt be traced. Some of it has certainly been cooked and served in some form tonight, although the ill-effects that you see are largely due to the measures taken to counteract it. I am sorry that my lord of Mar has been unfortunate.’
The Papal Collector’s handsome agent turned to the King. Then he knelt. ‘Kill me,’ said David Simpson. ‘Burgundy has always been powerful here. You cannot risk offending her. You will believe these two foreigners and their friends, but you will not believe me, who wished to protect you.’
He looked up, his magnificent eyes full of anguish. ‘Can you think I would harm you, my lord? Can you believe a tale such as this? That your own brother truly means you no harm, but would allow the whole Court to be poisoned, simply to entrap one supposed murderer?’
‘But we weren’t poisoned,’ said Will Roger’s reasonable voice. ‘At least, I didn’t get any mushrooms. There’s my kerchief. You can look.’
‘Willie,’ said Nicholas. ‘Put it into the fire.’
‘It’s evidence!’
Albany said, ‘We have plenty of evidence in the kitchen. The doctored soup was identified, and other means found to produce an effect of discomfort.