Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [398]
Margaret said, ‘What is it? Is Great-uncle there? That’s the shutter that squeaks. Rankin will waken.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Kathi defiantly. ‘I think it’s good news. I think everybody should waken.’
Nicholas was alive. He was outside. When he came inside, she knew the first thing he would do. He would look for and destroy the letter he had left for the Prioress.
Kathi said, ‘Margaret?’
‘No,’ said her eldest child. ‘Whatever it is.’
‘It isn’t much,’ Kathi said. ‘I’ve got to go out for five minutes. I’ll be back. Lock the door from the inside, and I’ll close the shutters. It’s for Uncle Nicholas.’
‘He isn’t Uncle Nicholas,’ Margaret said patiently. ‘Or Jordan would be our cousin.’
‘All right. I agree. Lock the door.’
‘I heard you,’ said Margaret. Kathi left.
IN THE CELLAR, Margaret was bored. She laboured at whistling a tune. When that failed, she opened the squeaky shutter, and Rankin woke. He was entranced to see out of the window, and watch the men running about. There were very few now. He said, ‘I want to fight.’
‘You will, when you’re a big boy.’
‘I’m big enough now. That bar is broken. Look. I could get through.’
Margaret inspected it. ‘You couldn’t. Anyway, we’re not to go outside. It’s dangerous.’
‘I can fight. I can punch,’ Rankin said. ‘I could go and help Uncle Nicholas.’
‘He isn’t Uncle Nicholas,’ Margaret said.
‘He’s my best friend,’ Rankin said. ‘I could get through that hole.’
The trouble was that he did; and so she had to go after him. It took longer, because she was bigger, and he had already run off laughing. Rankin was always escaping and laughing. She caught up with him just as the big horse came round the corner, and someone bent down and hit at them both. Rankin did no punching at all, although she screamed at him, and then stopped.
Chapter 52
Sic is the douchter as the moder beyne.
WITHIN THE PRIORY, it was not at first clear what was happening; except that a miracle had occurred, and a force was approaching which would put their assailants to flight. They could see, from their windows, the panic among the soldiers outside, and the running men, and the ominous mounds of the dead in the flickering dimness, where torches were dying and fires were guttering within dark, drying pools in the snow. They knew that their two poor Sisters had not survived. Also, someone had seen Lord Cortachy fall. Dame Euphemia feared the worst, although she did not say so, especially as the demoiselle Katelinje had not yet been told. She relied on M. de Fleury to break the news gently. Moving from place to place, comforting her charges, she dwelled, troubled, on the thought of her goddaughter, Efemie.
HURRYING OVER THE garth, on her way to Dame Euphemia’s room, the demoiselle Katelinje’s chief concern, at the time, was to avoid M. de Fleury. It seemed likely, from the noise outside, that he was still in the grounds, dealing with stragglers and welcoming the incoming party. She was still agitated enough to squeak when someone slammed into her in the dark, hurrying in the opposite direction. It was only one of the company archers from Edinburgh who had held the ramparts so nobly all day. He said, ‘Mistress! Have you heard? It’s our own people, Master John and Master Tobie and everyone, come to relieve us!’ Then he stopped and said, ‘Is Monseigneur all right?’
‘Monseigneur?’ she said. She had started to rush on, but halted.
‘Monseigneur de St Pol of Kilmirren. He stopped an arrow. They’ve taken him to the infirmary.’ In the uncertain dark, she thought his face changed again. He said, ‘We’re all desperate sorry about your uncle.’
Then she came back. ‘I haven’t heard. I’m sorry. Will you tell me?’
He didn’t do it very well, in his distress, and she had to hold herself in check until he finished. Then she thanked him and started away, and turned back. ‘We’ve been in the cellars. I’ve left my children. Would someone bring them out when it’s safe?’ He looked puzzled, agreeing. He probably thought