Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [155]
He did his business, which was to obtain a firm promise of satisfactory reward from the Queen Dowager of Scotland, and in return he undertook at midnight the next day to bring information of the most pressing importance to the French and the Scottish Crowns. More, he utterly refused to say. De Chémault indeed pressed him almost beyond his patience, but the other man had sense at least to say nothing and wait. And by midnight tomorrow, thought Brice Harisson, he would have evidence—if all went well, even written evidence—which would dispose of Robin Stewart for ever and earn him a fat Commendatorship in Perth.
The thing had gone just as he wanted. In spite of that, he took out a perfect handkerchief and wiped his brow before remounting his horse, and trotting back up the Strand.
Back at Durham House they watched him go, from the tall windows of de Chémault’s library.
‘Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone attend you, and may you be embalmed with the guts of a civet-rat,’ said the man called Vervassal pleasantly, in English; and walking over, opened a door. When he used the stick, especially, the hesitation in his walk was hardly noticeable. ‘Come in, Tom. Harisson propissimus, honestissimus et eruditissimus has gone.’
And the Master of Erskine joined them, the distaste which they all felt on his face, but his practical good sense already discounting it. ‘No sense in cursing the man. You’ll have to pay him and use him. We can’t find Stewart without him, and we can’t arrest Stewart without his evidence.
‘Officially, we know nothing of Warwick’s share in the plot, and for the sake of peace, we want to know nothing. Let Harisson come here tomorrow night and betray his partners ten times over. All that matters is that we should be able to get hold of Stewart and quietly take him to France, with Harisson’s unshakable testimony to convict him. Your obligations there, Francis, are ended.’
M. de Chémault had the sensation of being surrounded. The transaction had demanded speed. After Harisson’s initial approach the Ambassador had written immediately to Panter, his Scottish counterpart in Paris. His reply had not yet come when Erskine, the Scottish Councillor and Special Ambassador, appeared in London on his way home from France, and de Chémault thankfully turned to him.
Erskine had helped swiftly and effectively. Messages crossed the Channel, back and forth. Within a matter of days, the Scottish herald Mr. Crawford had arrived, accredited by every kind of document to the Court of the Queen Dowager of Scotland, and with full powers to treat.
It was excellent service, and under other circumstances, M. de Chémault would have accepted it with surprised relief. But Stewart had been an Archer in the company of John, Lord of Aubigny; and Lord d’Aubigny and his wife Anne had been the firmest friends of the de Chémaults for many years.
So, nibbling now at a biscuit and pouring wine for himself, his secretary and his two dynamic guests, the Ambassador watched, with divided feelings, the burden being removed from his shoulders. Or more particularly, he continued to watch Mr. Crawford, Vervassal Herald, as he talked. ‘Don’t count too much, Tom, on a tidy conclusion. Stewart, I would remind you, is a lamentable conspirator, and Harisson is a lazy fool. His arrival just now in broad daylight would strike any qualified spy with the ague.’
But the Councillor belittled it. ‘He’s Somerset’s man. He has the entrée anywhere.… My God,’ said the Master of Erskine, ‘why have I to go back to Scotland? What I would give to see Robin Stewart’s face when he finds out you aren’t—’
But the man Crawford rose, the knuckles sharp on the silver knob of his stick, and broke in without haste. ‘Will they not be expecting you at Holborn if you are to set off north today?’
Reminded of his own business, Tom Erskine hurried to take leave of the Ambassador. Vervassal, who was staying now at