Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [272]
His daughter came, skipping in her long skirts, pretty as a picture with her fair hair and dark eyes and sparkling tease of a smile as she curtseyed to all the men, with a special glimmer for Willie. When she came to Jordan she smiled and, instead of curtseying, kissed his smooth cheek, which turned scarlet. Then she took his fingers and said, ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you, that we’ve met before? I haven’t.’
‘I haven’t, either,’ Jordan said. He was still scarlet.
Muriella said, ‘Then we shall have to see much more of each other. Are you going to stay overnight?’
‘Of course they are,’ her father said, before anyone could protest. ‘Provided, sweetheart, that you let everyone know to prepare beds for them, and a meal for us all. Off you go. You will see more of Jordan presently.’ And she laughed and ran off, while her father shepherded the newcomers into his parlour.
Another guest sat there already and rose slowly, changing colour, as they entered. With a little weariness, Nicholas saw who it was.
‘Uncle!’ said Henry de St Pol. ‘I thought you were defending the Borders from your table in Edinburgh. And Jordan?’ He ignored Julius and barely glanced at Willie, whom he had met often enough at the Castle.
‘They let us out sometimes,’ Nicholas said. ‘Julius, you haven’t met Henry since he went to stay with his grandfather at Kilmirren. I didn’t expect to see him here myself.’
‘They let me out sometimes, too,’ Henry said. ‘I act as messenger for the Lord Warden of the West March. When the scouts tell us that Dickon Gloucester is moving, then I help spread the word.’ He was recovering.
‘Is Gloucester moving?’ asked Nicholas. He had heard as much, but he was interested in what Henry believed. The Duke of Gloucester, much admired by his men, was a ferocious leader of skirmishes, but lacked the broader military vision, they said. Certainly he had failed to provide a counter-invasion to balance the attack of his brother’s fleet. They were seating themselves. Malloch was speaking to someone outside the door.
‘He’s moving,’ Henry said. ‘And Percy of Northumberland. It looks like a gathering at Tweedmouth.’
Tweedmouth was a small English base with a keep and village on the southern bank of the Tweed opposite Berwick. Nicholas wondered whom Henry was quoting so masterfully. John Stewart of Darnley, very likely.
‘Just against Berwick?’ said Julius. ‘Or something bigger?’ With all these men-at-arms, he was longing to use them.
‘Nothing bigger, not now; but it looks like a gesture at least against Berwick. You’ve come to fight?’ Henry said. ‘And Jordan, too?’
‘Tell them to let me,’ Jordan said. His voice betrayed that he more than half meant it. Nicholas looked at him. Jordan and Henry had talked together at Leith. He wondered what had been said.
Henry said, ‘Would it do any good? At your age?’ It sounded disparaging, but there was something not unfriendly about it.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jordan, with gloom. He sat down, not far from Henry, and then got up again as the door opened upon the self-possessed figure of Bonne von Hanseyck, followed by Muriella, still smiling.
Muriella crossed to stand between Henry and Jordan and when they sat, sat between them, taking Jordan by the hand. Henry looked at them both. Bonne gave her hand to the three men and sat between Nicholas and Julius, remarking, ‘Forgive me for not being present to welcome you. I had no idea you were coming. How gallant!’
‘Your stepfather was anxious,’ said Nicholas. ‘He has some suggestions to make. Then I shall take