Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [185]
It was so unthinkable that it was funny. Sandy Albany dragged his sword from under his skirts, but it took rather long, and de Fleury was already trying to get hold of him. The rowers, who didn’t seem to be in anyone’s confidence, had slackened their pace, while the boat jerked under the struggle and continued to wander out to the river-mouth. De Fleury was also wearing a sword, but at least had the sense not to draw it. Against a prince, that was treason. Albany panted, ‘Get him off me, will you?’ to the oarsmen, and two of them did. Of course they did. They knew they would be rewarded. They jumped on the Burgundian, and dragged him away, and banged his head on the gunwale until he slumped. Then they tied him up, while Albany got out of his cloak and kirtle and hood, and, in no time at all, they were alongside the bigger ship, which was a fishing-boat.
Albany had been going to send de Fleury back in the skiff, and then had a better idea. He had him hauled aboard, after himself, and sent the oarsmen back with a message. ‘Tell my lord of Argyll that his plan has failed, and his minion has gone on a journey.’
Hearing that, Nicholas groaned. It was partly sham, for the plan had not, of course, failed. It was partly real, because the oarsmen had overacted, and his head buzzed. He kept his eyes shut and lay on the bottom-boards, which were fishy. He wondered where they would transfer to a larger vessel. The rolling motion was soothing, and he went to sleep.
He woke off the castle of Dunbar. That was all right. The castle was built over sea-rocks. Bigger ships sometimes changed cargo there.
That was not all right. Another rowing-boat had arrived. Sandy was climbing down into another rowing-boat and he himself, still bound, was being bundled down after and thrown at Sandy’s feet. Sandy said, ‘So you’re awake? Don’t you wish you’d minded your own business?’
‘Where am I?’ Nicholas said.
‘Arriving at my castle,’ said Sandy. ‘Where I propose to wait for the King of France’s army to come.’
The oarsmen were grinning, but not because they thought it was a joke. They were proud of the Duke. Nicholas said, ‘You might have a long wait.’
Sandy’s smile did not change. ‘It’s spring. I can hold out all summer. Ellem provisioned the castle while everyone was away because of the pest.’
John le Grant had discovered that. Questioned, the masters of barges remembered bringing timber and lead and artillery. Men and food would come later, by sea, by the open back door to Dunbar Castle. The Lords Three knew the castle was fortified. They knew Albany would try to escape. They thought Albany would go straight to France, or if ships failed him, would use Dunbar as a temporary base until shipping arrived. They had all agreed, if this happened, to let him go.
Instead, he had always meant to go to Dunbar. Long ago, he had asked for French help and (of course) had been promised it. Now, he had announced his escape, and invited the French King to send a fleet, bringing an occupying force to Dunbar Castle. And thus supported, of course, Albany and the French would demand an end to this cowardly peace between England and Scotland. It was for Scotland to proclaim her proud sovereignty by declaring war on her neighbour. And if the King still refused, his subjects would know where to turn.
In a rueful kind of da capo, the note from Nicholas this time was the same as before: Gelis, I’m sorry. I’ll bring him back safe. Only it wasn’t Jodi who had left home this time, but a prince of the realm. And Nicholas wasn’t simply sailing to Berwick: he was a prisoner in a garrison preparing to withstand assault, and bound to go where Sandy went. For whether Sandy wanted it or not, that was why Nicholas was there.
IT TOOK A fortnight for Sandy’s confident message to reach the French Court, and another fortnight