Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [388]
She listened, pondering on what he was saying. Liddell, the moderate man, was now absent in London. It confirmed Crackbene’s impression that Liddell had no direct hand in the campaign against Nicholas: he was not managing the affairs here of some unknown and vindictive cousin. Liddell’s absence also helped to explain Sandy’s aggression. The foray against Alex Home, just before Whitekirk, had not been wise. Liddell would have advised Sandy against it.
Absent, too, was Bell-the-Cat Angus; but he had lost political courage after his gesture at Lauder, and his personal backing for Albany might not have been fierce, had he stayed. The same couldn’t be said of his unruly, leaderless Douglases, now filling his fort of Tantallon. And Tantallon was close. The red, cliff-top bulk of Tantallon was here, on the doorstep; three miles from where they were sitting, and closer to Whitekirk than that.
Applegarth. Someone was mentioning the name. Nicholas, in course of pursuing some point with Kilmirren. His voice throughout was neutral. The last time they met, he had just come from Kelso, and the fat man had spurned him. ‘Monseigneur, why were you here with the Homes?’
And the fat man answered. ‘Shall I tell you? Yes. I am here to do what the Crown is afraid to do: to uncover the man who plotted against my son and my grandson, and kill him. I know his name.’ He turned to Adorne. ‘You fear I shall upset the delicate balance tomorrow. I shall not. I shall seek this man out myself, when you have gone. Dunbar is full of informers.’
He hadn’t mentioned a name. Nicholas did. Nicholas said, ‘Applegarth is in Tantallon.’
There was a little silence. The fat man said, ‘How do you know?’
And Nicholas said, ‘North Berwick is also full of informers.’
There was another silence. ‘But you will not touch him,’ the fat man said, speaking distinctly. ‘You will not help him escape me, you will not take him prisoner, you will not kill him. He is mine.’
A third person spoke. ‘I would kill him,’ he said. ‘He lied to Henry. He called my father a traitor.’
Jordan. Jordan, Kathi saw with a pang, standing defiantly before the obese, elderly man as a much younger child had once stood, in scratched silver armour, defending his family. In the window, Nicholas had stiffened. Now he must be thinking as she did. How much had Jordan overheard, guessed, been carelessly told?
The yellowed eyes stared at the grey. Kilmirren said, ‘And how many men have you killed?’
Jordan’s gaze did not move. He said, ‘As many as Monseigneur, perhaps, at the same age.’
‘And,’ said St Pol of Kilmirren, ‘you imagine you could kill a man more successfully than I?’
‘I have your son’s sword,’ Jordan said.
There was another space. She could not look at Nicholas. At length: ‘I remember. Perhaps that was another mistake,’ Kilmirren remarked. ‘Perhaps one day you will challenge me with it. Shall I take it back?’
‘If my lord wishes,’ Jordan said. He had brought it with him, Kathi knew. He slept with it over his bed
‘No. You will have blunted it,’ Kilmirren said. ‘So let us return to men’s affairs. Cortachy, what is your plan for tomorrow?’ She wondered what her uncle would do; but he simply looked at the other man quietly, and spoke.
What he said was not welcome. Kilmirren had been in no doubt that Adorne, abetted by Nicholas, proposed to trap and kill the Duke of Albany by some superb act of Burgundian villainy. He found it beyond all belief that there should be no plan at all, and that Adorne meant to do just as he promised. It was perhaps the presence of Camulio that made the lack of deceit so unlikely.