Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [334]
The King smiled, and then realised that his eyes had closed. Sleep at last. He would let the lad finish the song, and then dismiss him and Roger to bed. Tomorrow—today—would be a great day.
Will Roger, watching the King, had also decided that this song would be the last. A boy’s voice, not quite settled, should never be worked too much when tired, however much he himself enjoyed studying it. He had jotted down a piece for two voices that had been developing recently at the back of his mind, set specifically within Johnnie’s best range, and exploiting the smooth bridge between registers which was one of his gifts.
The other part had been written for Nicholas de Fleury, but the bastard was away so often just now that you’d be in your grave, or he would, before ever he sang it.
It was only as the song came to an end that the voices outside the pavilion became really audible. The King heard them too, and roused to frown at an attendant, who wordlessly slipped from the tent. He returned, looking ruffled.
‘It was nothing, sire. My lord of Angus requested an audience.’
‘Why?’ said the King. ‘Ask him!’
He found out soon enough, when Archie Douglas was brought in and sank to his knees, his stepfather from Lochleven behind him. It seemed that Sandy’s perfidy was public knowledge at last. Spies confirmed it. This invasion wasn’t a ruse; a silly ploy to get back his lost honours. Sandy had come to take James’s throne.
The doctor, Tobias, was standing watchfully now inside the entrance, but the news didn’t bring back James’s frenzy. It was what he had always suspected. It vindicated that early decision to begin calling in troops. It meant he could raise his banner today and march forward, his unified army behind him, to punish his brother, and show Gloucester who was King of this realm.
He had begun to declare as much, ringingly, when that stupid man Angus jumped to his feet. Master Whitelaw had always said that Earl Archie had no head for power, but enough land to remind him who his friends were. He had attacked the English with Sandy. Unlike Sandy, it would suit him to keep attacking them now.
So said havering schoolmasters. Here was Archie Angus declaiming the opposite. Standing in front of his King. Interrupting his King. And announcing, if the ears were to be believed, that a Scottish attack was out of the question. That the army did not wish to advance. That to preserve his serene highness’s life, the King must retire with his forces to safety.
It was a lie. His army was loyal. Brave men did not cringe before a superior force. They used guile, and gallantry, and could win. He knew. He had fought in the Highlands with Colin. Where was Colin?
‘Here, my lord,’ said Argyll, from the door. He knelt, as was proper, and his accent had become very strong, as it did under stress. He said, ‘The Earl of Angus is right. George Huntly is here, and Grey and Lyle. They will tell you the same. To take this army against twenty thousand armed men would be suicide. But we would do it if we knew, in the end, that our King would be safe. My lord, it is your death that they want. We cannot let you go forth to martyrdom.’
Then, hearing that, James found it hard to breathe. He was stabbed with pain: in his chest, in his belly, while the heat surged into his face. He rose, swaying. He saw the doctor starting to move, but Will Roger was nearest. His grey hair wild, his long face furious, he caught the King by the arm and shouted, ‘Are ye Lapps, or Tartars, or children? This is your King, who asks you to follow him! Will you destroy him here, in his tent, out of misery at your cowardice?’
Argyll spoke quickly. ‘Will. The doctor will see to him.’
‘I will see to him,’ said Will Roger. He had no weapons. There was a whistle stuck in his doublet.
The King said, ‘Then come!’ and with the musician