Pawn in Frankincense - Dorothy Dunnett [298]
‘Could you sleep?’ Archie said. She was going to answer when Lymond said suddenly, ‘As alternatives, they leave a lot to be desired. Could no one bring us some raki? If we must have a wake let us make it a happy one. Heureux qui, comme Ulysse, a fait un beau voyage. Let’s have Jerott’s form of decadence for a change.’ Jerott said, ‘Francis, shut up.’
Lymond went on, ignoring him. ‘Can you recite? Tell us six dirty stories. Let’s have a sing-song, like the brave old days round the campfire. Why not be cheerful?’
‘Why not,’ said Gaultier viciously, ‘play chess?’
It silenced Lymond. His head went back as if he had been struck, the indrawn air caught in his throat. He said nothing more.
Archie Abernethy got up and, bending, wrenched Georges Gaultier to his feet with the arms accustomed to tigers. Then he slung him, protesting, out of the room into the bedchamber and turned the key in the lock. Jerott said, ‘Has anyone got any money?’
No one had. Philippa thought of the diamonds now lying in Roxelana’s silk coffers, a fortune squandered for nothing. She said, ‘Would this help?’ and, undoing the tortoiseshell clasp round her neck, held out the jade. She saw from Archie’s eyes that he guessed what it cost. Jerott said, ‘It might,’ and, pocketing it, made for the door, his courtly manners struck from him; reduced, as they all were, to the basic humanities. Archie said, ‘What? Raki?’
‘If I can bribe someone,’ Jerott said. ‘He’s right. I’d rather be decadent than mad.’ Archie said, ‘I’ll come and help.’ The door closed. And Philippa found herself with Lymond, alone in the room.
No one spoke. In the silence filling the room she could feel the blows of her heart in her ribs: her breathing made a queer noise, like the sound of weak bellows in a poor state of repair. Lymond’s arms rested on his updrawn knees and his head was bent over them, the long fingers deep in his hair. Next door, she could hear Gaultier move about, muttering; perhaps going to bed.
Five minutes passed. The wall was just behind her. She learned back, softly, stretching her cramped limbs, the tawny silk spread all about her; and, as if in answer, slowly the tense fingers opposite relaxed, and without looking up Lymond spoke to her. ‘Temperament. I’m sorry.’
‘You have nothing to apologize for,’ said Philippa; but she had stirred some thought in his mind, because he dropped his hand and said, commanding his mind with an effort that could be felt, ‘Don’t wrest from me my repentance. A whoremonger, a haunter of stews, a hypocrite, a wretch and a maker of strife.… Kate is going to think I have a great deal to apologize for.’
‘Luckily,’ said the new Philippa calmly, ‘we aren’t talking about what Kate thinks. I don’t regret anything. Except, perhaps, all that training and I never did wriggle up from the bottom of the bed. I always wondered how one got past his feet. And my philology is superb.’
It was the faintest of smiles on his lips; but it was there. He said, Tm sure of it. But it all poses certain problems in ordinary life.’
‘This isn’t ordinary life?’ said Philippa; and he shook his head, and said, ‘It’s all right. You don’t need to clown. I’m speaking of going back home. No more peacocks, but eating the milk of buffaloes and cast-down melon skins.’
‘Do you think,’ said Philippa helplessly, ‘that they’ll try to stop us?’
He looked at his hands. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. It would suit Roxelana for one thing. But at least they’ll let us get out of the Seraglio, I imagine, and back to the Embassy. Don’t worry. I shall get you back home. With Kuzúm.… Philippa, have you given a thought to the future, once you are home?’
Kuzúm. Philippa said, her throat tight, ‘You’ll want him, of course, at Midculter. But if I could stay with him until he gets to know