Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [255]
It was, above all, a well-timed expedition. King Edward himself was demonstrably still in the south. He had given no audience, as yet, to the Scottish herald and pursuivant sent to patch up the truce and, in the event, never would. The assumption was that the King of Scots, while awaiting them, would be inactive. It was correct in one sense: assured by his scouts of quiet on the Border, the King was persuaded to call no general muster but to wait on events. Those in charge of the King’s ships (and their own) followed a different set of propositions.
In Leith, Gelis was roused by the blare of horns and the clatter of drums just before Crackbene’s man banged on her door. Already the wharves were brilliant with lanterns and as she listened, gripping her cloak, she could see the bloom in the sky to the south; the pulsing bloom that was code for a sea-attack, to be followed by the canon-bell: one stroke for each ship.
And Nicholas and John were away. Ah well. All the more fun for those who were left.
In Edinburgh, the Castle artillery thundered its warning to assemble, even before the beacon fire took proper hold. There would be detailed news soon. There were more lookout posts on that coast than there were bloody guillemots.
Robin shook Kathi awake. ‘Listen! It’s started!’ In the children’s room, Hob started to cry, and Margaret cuddled him.
Father Moriz, dressing hastily, wakened Dr Andreas and Archie of Berecrofts, and vanished across the road to Tobie’s house.
In the King’s tiled house in Blackness, Anselm Adorne and his nephew were roused by a man from Jock Ross at the castle. While the port came awake, a fresh rider took the news to the Queen’s fortified Palace at Linlithgow. Long before, the King’s house had been stripped, and its valuables sent to the Palace. There also were stored the costlier contents of the merchants’ homes and their warehouses. Now the merchants themselves would take refuge there. The village of Blackness had no walls, and its thatched houses were mostly of timber. Its place of strength, with artillery, was the fortress; and many, like Adorne and his nephew, made their way there. Others—the boatmen, the skippers—were already down at the pier.
The night was cool, with a strong, gusty wind from the west which showed unco-operative signs, towards morning, of fading and backing. This suited, however, the oystermen of Musselburgh who set off to their scalps at first daylight, although only two boats were sufficiently assiduous to linger in the estuary all day.
Nicholas pitched into Leith in the afternoon, just as the first of the enemy fleet rounded the Bass. John and Julius were with him.
‘Which?’ he said to Gelis. He looked exhausted and drunk, but was probably just exhausted and wild with excitement.
Gelis said, ‘If you mean ships, you’re too late for them all. No, maybe Leithie would take you. Have they landed anywhere?’
‘The English? No. And their army hasn’t moved to the Borders, so it isn’t a double invasion, it’s the other thing, an attack on our alternative harbours. They’re signalling that if we don’t give them Berwick, they can stop our trade everywhere.’
‘Father?’ said Jodi.
‘I said you’d decide,’ Gelis said.
‘You want to come? Then come,’ Nicholas said. ‘But fast. Ask John what to bring. Julius, they’ll need you here, at the Wark.’
‘That’s all right,’ Julius said. ‘You herd them in, and we’ll pick them off. Don’t forget the wine-ship.’
‘What wine-ship?’ said Gelis.
‘Never mind,’ Nicholas said.
• • •
JOHN, LORD HOWARD, was himself mildly vexed over the wine-ship, which was not his, but which had been bringing eighty butts of sweet malmsey to await King Edward’s (postponed) martial arrival at Bamburgh, and had been unable either to get into the Holy Isle, or to turn back to Alnwick or Newcastle. Sailing north, his lordship had considered the vessel, a small merchantman, to be in serious danger of falling into Scottish hands, and had swept it temporarily into his fleet, where it still was. Brown, the skipper, was known to some of his men.
Himself,