Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [309]
Chapter 40
The masonnis suld mak housis stark and rude,
To kepe the pepill frome thir stormes strang,
And be thai fals, the craft it gois all wrang.
WHEN, INCURRING LORD Darnley’s displeasure, Simon de St Pol of Kilmirren abandoned the fortress of Lochmaben that summer to race east with his son and his archers, he had no intention, as it turned out, of evading his service, but was merely exchanging one Border keep for another. The captain of Home Castle, the second son of Lord Borthwick, received the supplement to his garrison with surprise, but was prepared to make St Pol’s peace with the Warden. After nearly two months of standing to arms, his sixty men could do with new blood. Simon de St Pol had had a great reputation in his day, and his son was a fine-looking youngster. Indeed, anyone of mettle would prefer to be here, near the action, rather than under Tom Kilpatrick’s command at Lochmaben. A good man, Kilpatrick, but stolid. Borthwick himself was an artillery man. St Pol was here because he wanted excitement.
It was a good enough theory, and one that Simon de St Pol encouraged. In fact, he had left Lochmaben at speed for quite a different reason. He had left with his son and his soldiers because he had received an anonymous message. A well-substantiated, personal message to the effect that Nicholas de Fleury was covertly leaving for York, ferrying information to and from Albany. The dates were vague, but the place of de Fleury’s crossing was given as certain. He would use the ford that led from Scotland to England at Carham, and would probably return the same way. For he was not suddenly defecting to England. He was already Albany’s man, and England’s agent in Scotland.
It was not surprising. It was what many suspected already. But to catch de Fleury shuttling to England would prove him a traitor. And one could do as one liked with a traitor. One could do anything while capturing a traitor, and the law would turn a blind eye.
Henry agreed, after asking some questions. It was more than time that Henry was made to face facts. You didn’t express doubts when pursuing enemies. You expressed enthusiasm.
The ford at Carham was no distance from Home. Home was only four miles from the river. Simon had sent two of his men there already. They knew de Fleury by sight. They would stop him. They would set up relays between them, night and day, and would catch him. Henry had wanted to tell all the garrisons and ask them to help, but Simon had explained that was futile. De Fleury fancied himself as an actor. He would deceive them. He would evade all the permanent guards at the ford. And if they brought in officials, there would be an official process once the man had been caught. A waste of time. A waste of money. A King’s man like Simon could take justice, surely, into his own hands.
Henry had agreed in the end. It didn’t matter whether or not Henry agreed, so long as he stopped interfering.
Once settled at Home, however, it was disappointing to obtain no result from their vigilance. Although St Pol took his men and made himself responsible for patrolling the river at several fords—Carham and Wark, Coldstream and Norham—there was no sign of de Fleury, and it began to seem as if he might have made the crossing already. In which case there was nothing for it but to wait for him to return. A journey between York and the Tweed would take several days in each direction, with a stay of unknown length in the middle. They might have to wait for ten days.
It was not so unpleasant, putting off time. June moved into July. The weather was warm, and the fishing less good than it should be, but there was other sport to be had. At the castle, they relieved the boredom with contests. As the most experienced jouster in Home, Simon had no difficulty winning the prizes, modest though they might be. And he had to admit that Henry also looked well in the saddle, with his brilliant armour, and the hair and eyes so like his own. One of