Pawn in Frankincense - Dorothy Dunnett [293]
Changeless; like the machine Jerott had felt him to be, Lymond turned in the long silence to Roxelana Sultán; and the Queen, facing him, put back her veil. A narrow, vigorous face, a small mouth and arched nose and shrewd, painted dark eyes studied him, from the fair orderly hair to the rich scarlet robe. Lymond said, ‘High and mighty Princess … thy rules have been obeyed; thy burdens borne without protest. The game is now mine. In one move I shall claim the life of Jubrael Pasha, as you have promised, and of all those on his side save the children. I beg thy highness’s word that this will be permitted, and that my friends and I may then go free.’
‘It is so,’ said Roxelana; but Gabriel’s smooth voice, a thread of discord somewhere in its honey, said strongly, ‘Princess, what are you thinking of? Let them free, to bandy your letters from court to court, from gutter to gutter? Might they not go to the Sultan himself in the field? What tale will they tell him?’
‘A tale of a traitrous Vizier,’ said Roxelana calmly. ‘And some forged papers.… Make thy move, Hâkim.’
But Lymond did not turn away. Instead he said, in the same level voice, ‘Once, Princess, you returned, out of the delicacy of your spirit, what you could not accept without granting a favour. That which you returned is again in the care of your Treasurer and I have to beg you, a second time, to take this gift in your hands.…’
From Lymond to Roxelana, a bribe. Jerott, following every syllable and the sense of nothing, wondered bleakly what the gift was; and then saw Philippa’s face and wondered again. It would be, he supposed, with Kiaya Khátún. Roxelana said, ‘Thou art foolhardy with thy wealth. What now is the wish of thy heart?’
‘Only this,’ said Francis Crawford. ‘That when I make this move, I may let the child live.’
‘That is not the rule,’ said Roxelana Sultán calmly. ‘The rule is clear. Break it, and you lose.’
The blue eyes, searching met hers; but the dark gaze gave back nothing. Lymond said, in the same prosaic voice, ‘Then allow me to take the child’s place. I have no objections, and you might find it … convenient.’
‘Thy persistence does thee honour,’ said Roxelana blandly. ‘But the answer is no. Make thy move, or forgo it. Had a pestilence seized them this summer, the children would have suffered no less. Now you need lose only one. Choose, and move.’
From her place by Kuzúm, the light of her life, Philippa stood up. She did not say goodbye, nor did she kiss him or touch him, but moving slowly backwards she withdrew from the chessboard and stood still, her eyes on Lymond, leaving Kuzúm alone. The shepherd clutch thee fast. O my lamb; O my lambkin …
Khaireddin had been alone for a long time, in the square next to that which Lymond had vacated to go to the throne. His smiles, which no one returned, had run dry now; and through his courage a whimper broke loose and a single tear, escaping, slipped down his cheek.
Lymond didn’t come back to the board. He stood by the Kislar Agha, looking before him; his brightly lit face and hair an unfamiliar intaglio of highlights and unexpected sharp shadows. Still as the clock-spinet, thought Jerott, marking the hours, its case rimed with spectacular jewels; its inner wheels blindly spinning, awaiting the impersonal touch on the lever to trip it into a mechanical cascade of action. Which child to use for his checkmate? Which child to have killed?
Gabriel, rousing minute by minute from his paralysis of disbelief, cut through their thoughts. ‘Give up, Francis. How can you know what you’re doing? You don’t make decisions at low ebb. Not decisions you’ll live with in after years. Leave the children alone. I won’t checkmate you. I’ll give you stalemate in a handful of moves. Stalemate.… A draw, neither winning. You go free, and so do I.’
‘No,’ said Lymond.
‘Your vow?’ said Gabriel. ‘That means nothing either? You would have your son strangled?’
‘I don’t know,’ Francis Crawford said steadily,