Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [171]
The man lay dead, by his own hand, in the same room. Nicholas said, ‘So you hardly needed the armour. You almost make me have second thoughts.’
‘No,’ said the fat man. ‘You may think so, but no. You would do the same thing again. And if he had not killed himself, you would have killed him, even had he had both his hands; even though he was the better swordsman. For you should know that you are that kind of man.’
Nicholas drew a short breath. ‘No,’ said the other man. ‘It is enough. Finish what you have to do. I am tired of you.’
Nevertheless, he had called him Nicholas twice. My dear Nicholas, no longer Claes. Why?
For Henry’s sake, naturally. They had both been performing for Henry.
LATER, NICHOLAS WALKED through the door and up to where Gelis and Tobie were waiting. They were not alone. Laid within the silks of a four-poster bed, Robin of Berecrofts was talking eagerly.
There were circles under his eyes, but otherwise you would hardly guess how far or how roughly he had travelled. Or what else he had done. When Nicholas came in, they all stopped speaking.
He was no longer covered in blood, and someone had found him a shirt and an extraordinary garment lined with wolfskin, which were all that came near to his size. He didn’t know therefore why silence fell, unless it was something in his own face. It was hardly reverence for Simpson, whose end they already knew. Nicholas looked down at Robin and said, ‘Your father and Saunders are going to flay you, and you deserve it. You know you saved St Pol’s life and mine? If Simpson had had the use of two hands, he could have killed both of us. How the hell did you stab him?’
He had, it seemed, carried an armoury inside his bandaging. No one ever remembered he had one arm that worked. It had given him some satisfaction, when the bugger had started to taunt him. He wished he had managed to kill him himself.
‘Well, he did the job for you,’ Nicholas said. ‘For all of us. Now all we have to do is get home. That is, I’m proposing to have a day’s sleep followed by a night’s sleep followed by a leisurely journey from one side of the country to the other, accompanied by a wagon full of provisions, and another full of girls.’ He smiled at Robin. ‘We’ve sent a very fast, fresh groom to Kathi, and another to Scheves. All is well.’
He actually thought that was true. He fell into bed in a room which had once been his own, but now looked and smelled different, and was not disappointed or surprised to find that Gelis was sleeping elsewhere. It was not just that they all needed rest. It was to do with the building, and what was in it, and what had taken place there. It was not a place for that kind of joy.
He might have stayed the threatened whole day and night, or he might have decided to leave, if nothing had happened. Jordan de St Pol had returned with his men to Kilmirren, and Henry and Wodman had gone with them. Semple had come, and asked questions, and removed Simpson’s body. No one talked very much, now it was over. They were all too tired.
In fact, he woke later that day, and decided to rise. He was dressing when he thought he heard horsemen outside, and voices calling. When he opened his door, it was to find Avandale’s man come to find him, and Drew Stewart himself down below, having ridden post-haste from Strathaven.
Drew had heard about Simpson. This was other business.
By then, Tobie and Gelis had joined them. ‘What?’
But Nicholas had guessed. First, the immediate news from Craigmillar: Adorne had been released, vindicated, with all the rest; Simpson’s guilt had been proved. All the victims were well, although John of Mar was still under treatment.
Then Avandale’s courteous voice had made pause, impelling Nicholas to ask, ‘And the Duke of Albany?’
For, of course, it was all about Sandy. Hurt, dismayed and upset by all that had occurred at Craigmillar, Albany had found Nicholas gone, and had promptly set off himself in the opposite direction. With all the men of his lordship, he had ridden off to the Borders, with the stated intention of