Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [351]
IT WAS NECESSARY to receive the news calmly, and to treat the herald and his suite with the ceremony his office required. Clerks were sent for. An official statement was written out, rewritten, agreed, and finally ratified with all the appropriate seals. The herald was feasted, given presents, and finally sent out of town with a guard of honour, a wallet of papers, and a train of packmules laden with precious articles which the Provost and community of Edinburgh wished to bestow on Duke Richard and also, of course, Duke Alexander and their captains.
Even then, no one hurled his cup into the air, or ran screaming into the streets. It had yet to be proved that the army would leave, and that it would attain the Border without destruction and pillage. And that the reduction of Berwick would take place in a civilised manner, as the Council had promised the men of Berwick, in confidence, long before. Berwick had always been the one, attainable prize in this war. The trick had been to save the rest of Scotland from falling as well.
Bit by bit, it fell out as designed. The Duke’s pavilions were struck and his host began to move south, briefly escorted by Albany to the limits of his own land, where he stopped. The Duke continued to the frontier, the Tweed, where (reported relays of palpitating riders) he honoured his commitment to disband all his army, save for an extra force which he then took to Berwick. The town was already his. The citadel now prepared to surrender, and, in due course, the Governor and garrison were told that they would be allowed to march out without hindrance. Berwick was about to be English again.
To the worn men in the prison of the Tolbooth, it was the culmination of the second part of their plan, as the King’s arrest at Lauder had been the desperate end of the first. They did celebrate, for the loss of Berwick was nothing compared with the saving of the kingdom. Colin Campbell, as temporary host, distributed the best of the food and the wine they had left, and speeches were made which were far from trite, for they paid tribute to the efforts of every man there who had risked his life, his honour, his goods, to reach this miraculous point.
They were still wearily there, in their creased doublets and shirts, in the fumes of the room, when the fresh message arrived: the one which reminded them that the departure of the conquering army had been obtained at a price, and that a different struggle was pending.
From south in the Lammermuirs, the Duke of Albany wrote to his brother’s lieges in Edinburgh to command a royal escort for himself and his train, now that he returned to his land with open arms, hoping and expecting to embrace his royal brother.
‘Nicol?’ Avandale said.
‘No,’ said Nicholas.
‘The rest of us, of course, will also go: it must be an escort of honour. Fresh clothes, horses, harness, heralds, trumpets. A suitable apartment for the Duke: at Archie Holywood’s, or the friars, or James Dunkeld’s palace of delights in the Cowgate. Or the house of Sir James Liddell, his factor, if the Prince would prefer it. Liddell, of course, will come with us, but I also wish men I can trust to bear-lead this young man. You and Master Julius, as you suggested.’
‘That was when I could still walk and talk,’ Nicholas said. ‘You are bearing in mind that, before he parted with Gloucester, Sandy will have reaffirmed all his Fotheringhay vows? Whatever they say, Gloucester expects Sandy to make himself King, and acknowledge Edward as his superior.’
Avandale said, ‘We all know the situation, I think. Sandy will stay if it suits him, and cross back to England if it doesn’t. Your task is to tell us what he is thinking. For example, you still don’t believe he’ll harm the King?’
‘He’ll try to discredit him. I don’t think he would physically harm him, but others might. Anyway, no one’s going to release James or the instruments of power, are