Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [36]
Someone—Whitelaw—spoke in an undertone, quickly. ‘My lord! We can discuss this elsewhere.’
‘I am discussing it now,’ said the Prince. ‘Now the man is here, and can answer for what he has done. Hang him. Hang him, James.’
Albany said, ‘Don’t be a fool. He’s done nothing. James—’
‘Wait,’ said the King. ‘What has de Fleury done? An attack on a prince of the realm constitutes treason.’
The large, grey eyes of the Burgundian glanced at Albany, and then returned to the King. The Burgundian said, ‘In the presence of the King and his nobles, my lord, may I confess that what you say is true as the Lord’s Prayer? An attack on a prince is a hanging matter. A prince who drives his sword into another man’s merchandise and then suffers the consequences must, however, blame only himself. Indeed, he should in law recompense my lord of Albany, whose pepper it was.’
‘I told you,’ said Albany. John of Mar, with deliberation, set his hands to the thick table below him and heaved, so that it crashed to the ground, sending a candlestick rolling and ringing. Then he turned and raised his arm, fast, once again; this time towards his brother Albany. The Master of the Household, the Highland Earl of Argyll, seized and held it with ease.
The youth struggled. He yelled, ‘All right, lick his arse, Sandy. You’ll still not get to marry the Duchess. Christ, would you put a brute like de Fleury in front of your own flesh and blood?’
‘The law herself so puts him,’ said Colin Campbell. ‘If you disagree, there is a place to complain, my lord of Mar. But surely it is not here and now, when you are unwell. Let me help you out.’
Others came. Presently the door shut on them all, and the sound of Mar’s bawling receded. Nicholas de Fleury rubbed his cheek, which was numb, and collected the silent support of the Council. The King, talking fiercely to Albany, had avoided his eye. The table was righted and Argyll returned, adjusting his robe. He said, ‘I am sorry, your grace. Were there other matters your grace wished to open with M. de Fleury?’
It seemed there was nothing, which suited M. de Fleury very well. He had conveyed all he wished to convey. A cynical ear might have noted that there were some details that he did not pass on, such as the precise plans of the leaders of Bruges. He had however reminded the King of their names, causing him to exclaim when he mentioned Adorne. ‘My good baron of Cortachy! If they change his office in Bruges, then perhaps he can resume as our Conservator for Scotland? We miss his visits. That is, his nephew and Wodman do well enough, but Adorne was an ornament to our Order.’
It sounded heartfelt. It gave Nicholas reason to remember Mar’s antipathy to foreign advisers, who might arrange foreign marriages. The Duke of Albany had aspired to the little Burgundian heiress. No doubt the King had encouraged him, even though he might suspect it was a lost cause. It would suit James to be free of brother Sandy. He probably wished to God he could be free of his second brother as well. A confused King and two rudderless Princes, adrift in a world which they hardly seemed to realise was splitting apart.
He didn’t know why he felt quite so dismayed. If everything was all right, he wouldn’t be here. He knew why he felt dismayed. It had nothing to do with the Princes.
The interview ended. Nicholas withdrew, after establishing that he hoped to stay for some weeks, and could be reached through the Abbot of Holyrood. He tried to sound grateful for the Abbot’s insistent hospitality. Albany left the room with him, which he hadn’t expected, but which made the next step easier. Before, he had meant to set out at once on the journey Yare had mentioned in Berwick. It was only an hour after noon. There was time to go and return, and make his call on Adorne’s nephew, Kathi’s brother Sersanders. Their house was in the burgh of the Canongate, the lower part of the single thronged