Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [377]
Sandy Albany didn’t have either patience or self-control. He stared at his brother and turned. ‘You want that madman James for a King? When he killed my brother? When you saw him try to kill me? I beg your pardon, but you must excuse me from serving him. I am going to my own. If you want me, send for me.’
He waited, breathing quickly, until the King, shouting, had again been restrained, and then turned and limped to the door. The ushers stepped in his way, but Nicholas came between them and took Albany by the arm. ‘Let me come.’
For a moment nothing happened. Then the Chancellor nodded, the doorway cleared, and the Prince handed himself through, half-supported by Nicholas, and stumbled down to the open air, and his servants. There, he shook himself free and stood, swaying. His lips were tight, as if they wanted to shake. ‘Well, de Fleury? On both sides as usual. What do you want?’
‘To serve you both,’ Nicholas said.
Albany looked at him. ‘No. You must choose. A future King, or a killer.’
‘I see neither here,’ Nicholas said. ‘I see a sick King and his brother, who could help him. I see a sick country, with the means of healing at hand.’
‘What do you know of us? You are a Burgundian,’ the Duke of Albany said. He mounted and left, with his men, and without looking round.
Within a matter of days, every trace of the Duke of Albany’s presence had vanished from Edinburgh, as had all his supporters, among whom was Lord Home’s grandson Alexander, bailie of Gordon. By the time December came to an end, the kingdom had two centres of power. One, occupied by the King, was the burgh of Edinburgh and its suburbs. The other, occupied by his brother, was the castle of the Earls of March at Dunbar, massively fortified, and blessed with daily increments to its company, as Albany was joined by Lord Crichton and Douglas of Morton, Lord Grey and Alex Home, Archibald Angus, together with Applegarth and the Tantallon Douglases, and finally by young Jamie Boyd and his great-uncle Hearty James Buchan. In recent days, such men had lingered at home, but now conscience called. Three years ago, aided by witchcraft and abetted by the Burgundians and their doctors, this half-crazed King had killed Johndie Mar. Now it had happened again. Now all the world knew how, desecrating the holiest feast of the year, the King had attempted—had vowed—to murder his one remaining brother, and the hope of the kingdom.
In reply to which, there was only one really popular solution.
THE PRIORESS OF Eccles, at present in the convent of North Berwick, wrote to Anselm Adorne’s niece, inviting her to bring her children for a short stay, away from the distress and anxiety of the burgh. The shipmaster Mick Crackbene offered to transport the demoiselle Katelinje and her baggage by sea, provided the January weather allowed. It was a very short distance. Accepting, Kathi decided to bring Margaret and Rankin, leaving four-year-old Hob behind with his nurse and his father, who, after hesitation, had firmly agreed that she should go. To help her, she took two good-hearted maids and—at the suggestion of Gelis—the willing person of young Jordan de Fleury.
By then, the winter snow had begun, and the country, to those who had time to look at it, became singularly beautiful, rather like the fields around Nancy.
Chapter 49
Without iustice quhat is a kinrik than
Bot thift and reif with foull slauchter of man?
AFTER JORDAN HAD gone, Gelis closed her residence and moved to the Canongate, where the House of Niccolò and the Floory Land had become one.
As in the great moments of crisis in the Bank, no one touched or importuned Nicholas for three weeks, as he moved about after Albany’s departure from Adorne’s house to the Castle, and from there to the secret houses in the burgh where the inner Council and burgesses met, unknown to the King. From there, Nicholas always returned to the Canongate for, as statesmen resorted to him, so he made use of the combined experience