Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [121]
IN the weeks that followed, Margaret Erskine found herself sorely tried. Stewart’s journey to Ireland and back could take a month, even without a delay there on his mission. A month to wait, and observe Thady Boy’s return to carefree excesses. A month to watch Jenny, glorious Jenny, coolly set out to build a court for herself, dazzling her admirers; drawing the benefice seekers to her side. The royal child, Margaret’s half-brother or sister, was due in less than four months, and Margaret knew how the women about the King were reacting. Jenny herself paid no attention. She had never demanded deference. She simply assumed, once the news became public, that they would defer.
But in much less than a month there came the check on Lymond which Margaret was silently praying for. Sooner than they had thought possible, Richard Crawford, third baron Culter, with his short and glittering train, answered his summons to Blois.
Early that day, John Stewart of Aubigny also came back to Court, after a spell at his castle of La Verrerie, and heard for the first time a mildly surprising item of news. As soon as he could, he sought out Thady, taking George Douglas with him, to ask why O’LiamRoe had gone.
The ollave had been on the terrace, with a small and exuberant party, playing quoits. Sir George’s speculative eye, looking him over, noticed the suffused eyes and the softer weight and the decisive air of abandon. He also noted, privately, that this young man had been sharply ill, and was not yet quite recovered.
Thady Boy answered his lordship, however, with unfettered buoyancy. ‘Are you not for believing all you’re told? He had an urgent message from home. Or that’s what he said.’
‘I know,’ said Lord d’Aubigny quickly. ‘But—’
‘ ’Tis a real student of humanity you are,’ said Thady cheerfully. ‘But, of course, he got no such message. Sickly, impotent, inable and unmeet was Phelim O’LiamRoe. The lady of his heart upset all his plans, and he could think of nothing but home. Oonagh O’Dwyer was all that was keeping O’LiamRoe in France; surely all the world knows that thing.’
‘All the world knows, of course,’ offered George Douglas politely, ‘of his ollave’s famous serena last month.’
Lord d’Aubigny, relieved, paid no attention. ‘I’m glad. I had a notion, Ballagh, it might have been something Stewart had done. He’s a good man, Robin, but unstable, you know. A little erratic. He took a fancy to you, I expect you know; was threatening one day recently to leave and go with you back to Ireland. Then he went quite the opposite way. Last time I saw him, he was consigning every Irishman to the devil. Unstable. So I hoped nothing had been said.…’
Thady Boy’s dark smile grew. ‘ ’Tis a fine Archer you have there, true, but a thought clinging. No blame to him that O’LiamRoe went. Quite the other way. It was O’LiamRoe telling him to his face that I had no intention of going with him to Ireland—a true word, but I would have put it more sweetly myself—that put the pot on the boil. I saw Robin myself before he went. I doubt, my lord, that you won’t see that fine fellow again.’
Lord d’Aubigny showed no signs of sorrow at this. He said kindly, ‘And what of you, Ballagh? I hope you’re staying?’
‘As long as the King wants me.’
‘Then you must come to La Verrerie again. I have some friends who want to hear that fine playing.’ Objets d’art were Lord d’Aubigny’s business. ‘You’re staying at Blois, then?’
Part of the Court was moving upriver shortly. ‘So they say. I go where I’m taken.’ The silken arm of d’Enghien suddenly encircled his shoulders. Jean de Bourbon, smiling cursorily at the others, said, ‘You’re holding up the whole game, my dear. Are you feeling well?’
Sir George Douglas’s smile was quite masterly, and almost won a response from Francis Crawford. Sir George said, ‘He’d better be, after challenging that Cornishman.’
Thady Boy’s surprise was guarded. Discovering his quoit, he hooked the iron abstractedly on d’Enghien’s high-bred hand, then queried, ‘What Cornishman?