Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [339]
Amid all that farrago of half-lies, it seemed to be true that Nicholas had somehow followed Adorne back to Edinburgh. About to join Moriz and John at the Castle gates, Tobie had turned back, on an impulse, to confirm it. After all the hapless, miserable losses at Lauder, the return of Nicholas would be something to exult over, at least. It struck him, abruptly, that Nicholas himself would not yet have heard about Lauder.
As he had hoped, John Stewart of Darnley had the information he wanted. Nicholas was back. He had had business in Kelso. Since it was no longer private, Darnley mentioned, regretfully, what de Fleury’s concerns at Kelso had been.
For a while, Tobie stayed in the Castle, speaking to no one, and doing nothing in particular. Then he walked slowly down to the guardroom, where John and Moriz were waiting.
They looked angry and anxious. John said, ‘So, what? Couldn’t you find out? Has something happened to Nicholas?’
‘No. He’s here,’ Tobie said.
John said, ‘Well, where? We ought to find him. I don’t want him hearing the news from just anybody.’
‘The news?’ Tobie said. He felt ill.
Then Father Moriz said, ‘Of Lauder. Of the death of his friends. Tobie? What is wrong? What have you heard?’
Tobie looked at him. He said, ‘Darnley just told me why Nicholas didn’t come back with Adorne. He has been at Kelso all night.’
‘Kelso?’ said John. Moriz was silent, but he had taken his crucifix unthinkingly in his fingers.
‘Kelso Abbey,’ Tobie said. ‘Simon and Henry de St Pol both died yesterday, drowned in the Till during a skirmish. Nicholas brought them away, and carried them both to the Abbey. They are still there.’
‘And Henry?’ Moriz said. His fierce face was drawn. Of course, Moriz knew. He was one of the few people who knew. John did not.
John’s mouth had opened. He said, ‘Nicholas was coming from York. How could Simon be there, on the English side, at the same time? No one was supposed to know where Nicholas was crossing.’
‘Except Adorne,’ Tobie said suddenly. ‘Adorne was on the Borders,and knew. If someone arranged this, I am going to find him and kill him.’ Then he broke off and said, ‘But, dear God, that is the least of it.’
Father Moriz closed his eyes. He said, ‘To Nicholas, certainly. This, to Nicholas, is more than the death of a handsome man, and a … beautiful stripling.’
John said, ‘I suppose he’ll never find out, now, whether he was Simon’s son. It will stop Julius’s prying, at least.’
‘It hasn’t,’ said Tobie. ‘This very afternoon, apparently, Nicholas knocked him off the steps of Kilmirren House, and kept at his throat all the way down to the Nor’ Loch. Julius has been put to bed in the Canongate, and Nicholas has been removed from public view by his disapproving superiors. He isn’t at home.’ He sneezed. It felt like a cramp in the vein of his heart.
‘Bless you,’ said the priest gently.
Tobie took out his kerchief and blew his nose. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt so sick, or so helpless. He said, ‘So you see, we have nothing so momentous to tell Nicholas, have we? Nothing, by the divine pity, so terrible as the darkness he is walking through now.’
FAR DISTANT FROM the mishaps that beset every grand plan, the complex strategy of the King of England’s campaign unfolded: half evolved by its own leadership, and half dictated by changing circumstances, which, however exasperating, were proof of a Scottish incompetence of truly marvellous proportions. By the evening of that same Monday, the memorable twenty-second day of July, it was known to the English command that the advance against them had stopped. That, for some shameful reason, the King of Scotland’s army had revolted at Lauder, and had refused to march further south. An hour later, and they heard that it had disbanded.
To Sandy Albany, hedged about with English magnates, the news was pure bliss. ‘They refused to fight me! The people want me! Now we can march!’
Smiling, Dickon of Gloucester agreed. Now they could march. Not (had