Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [394]
‘And I, if you please,’ said the fat man.
They were agreeing, without words, to fight.
IT WAS THE last gamble, of course. They were in a strong place, which was also a church. There was a chance that among the attackers, there were those who would waver. It was worth trying. It was perhaps not worth more than that. Fortunately, there was not much time to think.
Most of them had been in battles like this, where there were few choices, and all of them harsh. Nicholas and Crackbene and Adorne had all seen action together in the past, and they worked well together. Crackbene had charge of the soldiers, deployed high in the attics and within the penthouses attached to the walls. Julius helped him, with his one active arm. Kilmirren, rendered static by age and obesity, could still command; and however little he made himself liked, his advice was worth listening to. For the rest, young Jordan stayed with his father, and the Bishop, stripped for action, displayed an alacrity that endeared him to Crackbene at once.
During all the swift preparations, Nicholas ran downstairs, once, to visit the cellars where Kathi, wrapped in three blankets, was playing cards with her two children, similarly cocooned. Her nose was blue. Nicholas said, ‘I’m sorry. It is safest, if you can stand it. They’ve turned down our offer, so we’re preparing to fight.’
With Kathi, he never had to spell anything out. They were here, in the cold shuttered dark with a candle, because they might be overlooked if the Priory fell. Then, men would make for the chapel, where the treasure was, and the brewery, and the warm kitchen and refectory and dormitory where the nuns and servants would be gathered. You might say that she ought to be there too, sharing the risk, helping the others. She had not done so because of her children, and because of Robin, and because of Nicholas.
She said, ‘You don’t think you can hold out.’
No one had put that into words. In battle, one never did know. He said, ‘Your uncle will decide.’
Rankin was trying to get his attention, and Margaret was reproving him, with all the authority of eight over seven. Their mother said, ‘Adorne is the person they want.’
Nicholas said, ‘If something is worth buying, it is worth the fullest extent of its price.’
‘I see,’ she said. Then she said, ‘And what about Jordan? Young Jordan?’
Always straight to the core. He said, ‘Crackbene will look after him.’
‘Against whom?’ Kathi said. ‘Have you told Crackbene who it is, Nicholas? You have to tell someone now. Who is more important than Jordan?’
He was silent. She said, ‘Nicholas. You’ve seen obsession in others. Now, at last, you are being forced out of yours. You have done all you can; all you should; all that anyone could ever expect of you. Now you tell someone, or you let my uncle walk out alone. They will take Lord Cortachy. They will allow Nicholas de Fleury to stay. They may even suspect that if you stay, someone will kill you for them.’ She waited. She said, ‘Who is Elizabeth’s son?’
Rankin was showing him something: a tile with a bird on it. He made a comment and gave it back with a smile. Then he looked up at Kathi. He said, ‘I have left a sealed note with the Prioress, and asked her to give it to Crackbene when we have gone. He will decide what to do.’
She drew in her breath. She didn’t comment. What he was doing, without words, was passing to Crackbene the task he could not do himself. If that was the end of an obsession, then so be it.
She said, ‘So you and my uncle will go out together.’
‘Yes. Of course,’ he said.
Of course.
She said, ‘Tell him I love him, and always shall.’
‘He knows,’ Nicholas said.
THEY WERE NOT going to be able to hold out. It was the nature of the assault that finally determined it. For a while, the attackers fought by the rules, hoping to achieve a quick, tidy success that would escape public censure. Unfortunately, success proved elusive, and too many men were being picked off from high vantage points by extremely talented