Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [259]
Nowie said, ‘I think it’s remarkable. I think the whole scheme is quite, quite remarkable. So what about the three foreign ships, you said? They’ll blame England, of course, but they’ll also put pressure on us, won’t they, to cede Berwick and stop the dispute?’
‘England thinks they will,’ Nicholas said. ‘But I know all the skippers. The owners will get the ships back, with compensation, and the cargo is well insured. The good stuff was ashore already anyway.’
‘And now, for a bonus, we have the wine-ship,’ Nowie said.
Nicholas caught Robin’s eye. It had been a surprise, on first coming aboard, to find Nowie on Preston’s boat; but of course the Sinclairs were historically the Prestons’ superiors, and Sir Oliver probably owned the boat anyway. It was also typical of Nowie’s undoubted charm that he had welcomed Robin as soon as he discovered him, and had been equally courteous to Jordan, aged twelve. When, still attired as an oyster fisherman, Nicholas had rejoined them all, it was to find the same mellow atmosphere. At times, Nowie might be a wealthy, spoiled martinet, but you forgave him for his exquisite manners. It amused Nicholas, now he knew him, to recognise the steely deliberation behind every inconsequential question, such as this one.
Nicholas said thoughtfully, ‘Yes. The wine-ship. Do you think Leithie Preston could join us?’ He turned to the skipper, who was watching him. Preston gave someone the helm.
‘You know something about the wine-ship?’ said Sir Oliver Sinclair. ‘And I see Robin does, too.’
‘And me,’ said Leithie, arriving. Brisk, acquisitive, humourless like all his Craigmillar kin, he was never deferential, even to overlords. It had never amazed Nicholas that the other Thomas Preston should have been killed in a courtroom quarrel at Forfar. They were all clever seamen. Leithie said, continuing, ‘It’s an English boat all right, but it’s not English-owned. It changed hands the other day, and guess who bought it: that fool Alec Brown. That’s him sailing her now, desperate to leave us behind, in case we notice he’s carrying wine to the enemy.’
‘Is this true?’ Nowie said.
‘He was brought on board Howard’s ship. He didn’t recognise me,’ Nicholas said. ‘We were wondering what best to do.’
There was as much of a silence as there ever can be in the howl and crash of a three-masted sailing ship with a following sea. Robin’s smiling eyes were on Jordan, who met them, and slowly ceased looking uneasy.
Nowie said, ‘In Berwick, one gathers, this is not unusual. Stupid, however.’
‘Very,’ said Nicholas. ‘Alec has a good memory for troop movements, though. Master Whitelaw calls on him quite often at Ratho.’
‘I suppose I could verify that,’ said Sir Oliver Sinclair. His fair skin, in the sun, was powdered with freckles, and his frame was as broad as a bullock’s. ‘At the same time, I fear that his interest is chiefly in profit-making.’
‘That is easily verifiable as well,’ Nicholas said.
‘What, no pressure? How discreet you are being,’ said Sinclair. ‘I rather like that, my Nicol. I agree, the man is probably doing no harm, although he will hang himself in the end. I do not think he should be allowed necessarily to profit from provisioning the English. Neither do I think he need die, although I do not wish, either, to be associated with his survival. In fact, I think the problem may resolve itself, given time. Are we in any haste to return?’
‘No,’ said Robin, considering.
‘No,’ said Nicholas.
‘Eh—’ said Leithie.
‘No,’ said his patron, in helpful translation. ‘In that case, let us sit back and enjoy a leisurely chase. What have we to eat, besides oysters?’
FAR TO THE north, in the islands of Orkney, the youngest and cleverest Sinclair prince stood on the stone wharf at Stromness and peered out to sea. ‘What’s that?’
After only a decade of belonging to Scotland, the average Orcadian still spoke largely in Norse. The harbourmaster said, ‘It’s