Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [230]
‘Albany rebelled and deserted,’ Avandale said.
‘I know,’ Nicholas said. ‘But rumours don’t flourish on logic. I think my lord of Mar has had a fever and, being brought to his physicians to be bled, has succumbed to a mysterious illness unknown to the finest of doctors. Andreas and Tobie can elaborate. They may even mention the unnatural humours which caused the Prince, against his true inclinations, to attack those he loved.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Tobie.
‘Then it is agreed,’ Avandale said. ‘And now I must tell the King.’ He tilted his head, allowing his thoughtful gaze to dwell on each member of the small group. ‘Since we are friends, I ought to say that I often draw comfort from the simplicity of his grace and his brothers. Were they persons of malignancy or cunning, one would serve them with less than a whole heart.’
He was looking at Nicholas. Nicholas said, ‘I feel as you do. So does Dr Tobias. Otherwise we should not be here.’
He left Tobie’s house in broad daylight, and made several brief calls, before walking uphill to his home. There, he took Gelis aside. ‘Something has happened. Come into the office.’
He never had to explain the implications to Gelis. She listened, and spoke at the end. ‘I am mortally sorry as well. But it must be contained. When will his death be made known?’
‘Avandale has gone to the Castle. Once the King has been told, the Councillors will frame an announcement. Meanwhile I have asked Adorne to come here, and all those who have been caring for Mar, so that they can hear what Avandale proposes to do. Then we have to think of the effect on Mar’s siblings. On Mary and Margaret. On Albany, when he hears.’ He broke off. ‘It is such a tragedy.’
‘You were sorry for him,’ she said. ‘So were we all. But he was ill. He was dangerous. He would have had to be cared for to the end of his life, or face the hangman, as he continued to kill. He may have realised that himself.’
‘I don’t think he even did that,’ Nicholas said. He got up, more deliberately than usual.
Gelis ached for him. Nevertheless, she spoke levelly. ‘There is one other thing. You know that St Pol of Kilmirren is in town?’
Nicholas sat down again. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry. He called this morning to deposit a single piece of wicked news. You remember the Hamilton funeral?’
‘Clearly,’ Nicholas said.
‘In November, Henry left the keep for Kilmirren. There, he wrote and sent off a letter, without telling his grandfather until it had gone. It’s on its way to Simon his father, insisting that he come back to Scotland at once.’
There was a silence. Nicholas said, ‘Can he? He was exiled.’
‘On a medical charge, on the King’s orders. Apparently the King later relented, but Simon’s father didn’t mention it to him. Seemingly, St Pol doesn’t want Simon home.’
‘Which is why Henry has sent for him. What did St Pol say about that?’
‘Just that Henry seemed to believe that Simon was a person before whom brave men shivered in tears.’ She heard the chill in her voice as she repeated it. Simon, athletic and fair as Henry was fair, had once been her despised and unknowing tool against Nicholas. But as a fighting man, Simon de St Pol did not deserve his father’s contempt. And, of course, he would never have Henry’s. Simon’s petty beliefs, Simon’s vindictiveness would immediately be adopted by Henry. She said again, ‘I’m so sorry.’
He said, ‘So am I.’ He sounded uncharacteristically at a loss. She thought she saw in his face the same look he had worn when coming to tell her of Johndie Mar’s death.
She said slowly, ‘It’s winter. Nothing can happen for a long time. And you don’t need to wait for him. You can leave Scotland now with a free conscience. Havens are re-opening elsewhere. Adorne knows it. Even this poor Prince’s death has smoothed the way, and so has Albany’s absence. The kingdom has had everything you can give it for three years, and they need you less now. It is worth thinking about.’
‘And you?’ Nicholas said. ‘Would you leave?’
‘Wherever you go, there I shall be,’ Gelis said. ‘Although, whatever you suggest, I shall