Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [350]
The brawl seemed to have slipped Julius’s mind, which was following a different track. He said, ‘Did you know he was a raving beauty when young? Fat Father Jordan? They said young men swooned in his company.’
Nicholas refilled their cups. He said, ‘There was a rumour that he liked boys.’
Julius lifted a brow. ‘And you, his grandson, believed it? Not a bit. Don’t you remember Diniz being whisked off from your evil presence in Cyprus? And later, Tilde lost her first child from the shock, when the old man was raging about, accusing you and Diniz and Nerio of unnatural practices? No. He didn’t like pretty boys. He had a horror of them. That’s why he brought up the next generation to be as randy as hell with the opposite sex. It was just as well that Simon couldn’t manage much in the fatherhood stakes. Didn’t you realise any of that?’ He was looking curious.
Nicholas said, ‘I suppose I should have.’
‘Get the Archer families to tell you. Andro won’t, he’s too mealy-mouthed. But Johnny Darnley remembers his grandfather’s stories—the first Lord Aubigny, whose troops became the French royal bodyguard, that Kilmirren belonged to?’ He broke off, considering. ‘I suppose it’s not surprising, with all those French connections, that Darnley didn’t want an English conquest of Scotland. I wonder what he really wants?’
‘Supper,’ said Kathi, coming in. ‘I see you liked the wine. I wonder if we have any more?’
Later, leaving, Nicholas walked with Kathi to the door. She said, ‘A reconciliation?’
‘More a kind of regal pardon,’ he said. ‘But thank you, from both of us.’ In the distance, Julius, happy, was shouting something to Robin. Close at hand, something sighed. Nicholas stopped.
Kathi had halted as well, her eyes dark in the lamplight. She said, ‘Tobie brought the lute back from Lauder. Other things, too. In that closet. You were to have what you wanted.’
He fingered open the door. Drums. He knelt by the nearest, his lips close, and spoke. It replied. When he rested his cheek, it became slowly still, but not deadened. He thought it simply resumed listening. He rose.
‘Yes. Soon,’ he said to Kathi; and smiled; and left. When he turned, she was standing still, as if listening, too.
ON SUNDAY, THE fourth day of August, Walter Bertram, Provost of Edinburgh, together with representatives of the merchants, burgesses and community of the burgh, rode out of the town and proceeded to the appointed place to confer with the Duke of Gloucester, guarded by equal numbers of armed men, as if none was aware that within easy reach was the vast English army, come north last week from Coldingham. The offer on the table was eight thousand marks of English money, disguised as a refund of the Princess Cecilia’s dowry, should King Edward decide not to proceed with her wedding to King James’s heir. Both were, of course, children; and the wedding contract had long since grown cold.
The delegation returned in safety, as predicted. They brought a conditional agreement. The Duke wished to consider his position overnight.
In the Tolbooth, merchants and noblemen waited in company for whatever was to befall. The windows, set open because of the heat, relayed to them the muted sounds of the High Street, empty of children and treasure, with all its steep, crooked closes blocked by stacked turf and locked gates. The weapons—and there were weapons—were out of sight. If something went wrong—if Gloucester changed his mind; if some contrary order reached his pavilion through the network of relay stations that connected him to the south—some resistance at least would be offered. But against a determined attack, Edinburgh the town could not survive, any more than Berwick had. On the other hand, this was a citadel that would not surrender.
The officers of the Crown and the town slept in the Tolbooth that night: some in beds; most on mattresses. The following day, a herald arrived from the Duke.
It was not, of course, capitulation. It was an intimation that, given confirmation of certain assurances,