The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [162]
‘So careless?’ said Chancellor.
‘The spheres move,’ Lymond said. He was still looking at Konstantin. ‘Nothing else?’
Konstantin said, ‘Only stains. Some small stains of fresh blood on the snow.’
Richard Grey, his face shocked, had said nothing since the conversation had taken this murderous turn. Now, hesitating, he offered, ‘A lure? Some meat offered the eagle?’ And then as no one answered, took confused thought himself. ‘No. Not if they wished her to hunt.’
Lymond was still looking at Konstantin. ‘Not meat,’ he said. ‘But flesh. We want a man who is bloody, as any novice handling Slata Baba would be bloody. Strip. Strip to the waist. Coat, waistcoat, tunic and shirt. Unwind your bandage.’
The lieutenant was white. He said, standing upright, ‘I was here. I called the Boyar Chancellor. I could not have taken the eagle so far off in time.’
‘You might have taken her there. You might have paid an accomplice to fly her,’ Lymond said. ‘Strip. And you, Master Grey. And every other man in this hut.’
Grey jumped to his feet.
‘Do it,’ Chancellor said. ‘He is the Voevoda Bolshoia. Perhaps he will think I am stripped enough.’
The prick brought no recognition. Nor did the promptitude with which he was obeyed. Grey, the serving men and Konstantin were all without blemish, save for the dead flesh in Konstantin’s fingers. Grey had begun to rewind the bandage for him when Lymond said, ‘I want each of the soldiers stripped and examined, one by one. And Aleksandre brought here at once. Where is he?’
‘Outside,’ said the lieutenant. ‘There is a Samoyed Shaman with him who has been asking to see you. The tolmatch says that two of his tribe ran in the race.’
Lymond said briefly, ‘That has been dealt with. The Tsar accepts the blame, and the Tsar will be generous.’
Konstantin said, ‘He still wants to see you.’
‘Later, then. Call in Aleksandre.’
He came in; a short and burly young man, the deftest and most intelligent of all the new Streltsi Danny Hislop had trained. He said, ‘My lord——’ and stopped against the unyielding wall of Lymond’s face. Lymond said, ‘We are endeavouring to reach the truth; always a tedious proceeding. You will humour us by baring the sprain you received in the tavern tonight.’
The lieutenant looked at nothing, and the captain did not glance at him, but flushed in an angry awareness of his audience. ‘I, my lord?’
Lymond said dryly, ‘You are not alone in your predicament. Every other man in this room has also obliged. Unwind the bandage.’
The fur coat came off, with stiff obedience. The narrow sleeve underneath was rolled up, with some trouble. The bandage, unwound, revealed a bloated patch, red and misshapen, on the upper part of the wrist. There was no doubt that it was a severe sprain, and painful.
‘Now strip to the waist,’ Lymond said.
He didn’t do it. He had fallen, Chancellor conjectured, waiting and wondering, into some kind of daze, brought on by the lateness and the drink and the long and strenuous trials of the night. He saw Konstantin, with a glance at Lymond, reach out and touch Aleksandre on the arm. And he saw that Aleksandre, like a man frozen, still stood unmoving. Lymond said, ‘Captain.’
Aleksandre said, ‘I have an old wound. It is not very pleasant to look on.’
Lymond continued, calmly, to hold his eyes. ‘Konstantin. How many soldiers outside?’
‘Four, my lord. I thought it as well. There is much drunkenness.’
‘If they are sober,’ said Lymond, ‘bring them in. Then help the captain to undress.’
Diccon Chancellor saw, disbelieving, that Aleksandre’s face had quite changed. For a long moment he stood glaring at Lymond; then as the door opened and his men began to come in, he dodged suddenly and ran head down, straight for the door. He fought so hard that they had to half stun him before they had him, arms spreadeagled, in front of the Voevoda, and Konstantin peeled off his tunic.
The shirtsleeve