The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [264]
Nor, from a distance, did they as yet show much signs of soiling. Master Nepeja hoped, when the time came to hand them back to their donor, that she would take the length of wear into her reckoning.
Francis Crawford, with clothes of his own and money to supplement them, did the same polite rounds without enthusiasm, in between arranging, with great efficiency, for the four ships now loading in London to be suitably freighted with his special cargo. It was there that he came across Tony Jenkinson conferring with John Buckland his Master, and Buckland introduced the two men.
Jenkinson showed him over the Primrose, his flagship. At two hundred and forty tons, she was a third as big again as the Edward Bonaventure; and the John Evangelist, the Anne and the Trinity were all larger than the little Esperanza and Confidentia, and even than the Philip and Mary. And Jenkinson, too, who was to succeed Richard Chancellor; who was to try the overland route to Cathay which had been Richard Chancellor’s dream, and whom Richard Chancellor had commended, proved to be young and dark haired and vigorous, with the kind of driving curiosity which had already taken him to Germany and the Low Countries, the Alps and Italy, Piedmont and France, Spain and Portugal, Rhodes, Malta and the Levant, Sicily, Cyprus and Candia, Greece and Turkey, Galilee and Jerusalem, Algiers, Bona and Tripoli.
They should have met long since, he and Lymond. Jenkinson had been conferring for weeks with Best and Buckland and with the other three men from St Mary’s: in several sessions at the house of John Dee they had barely missed one another. It was not all entirely by accident. Lymond did not greatly wish to meet Tony Jenkinson, and although, once introduced, the younger man’s enthusiasm overbore any restraint on his part—did Mr Crawford know that they had been in the Levant at exactly the same time? how strange that he and his friends had not met in Aleppo! was it true that Dragut Rais’s mistress was now living in Moscow?—Lymond left before long. It was coincidence that the first person he met on entering Lady Dormer’s parlour by invitation next morning should again be Jenkinson, and the second, Richard Chancellor’s younger son Nicholas.
There was no doubt who he was, even before Lady Dormer led him forward to introduce him: he was the image of Christopher. And he was staring at Mr Crawford as his brother had looked at the Voevoda Bolshoia, one night long ago, in Güzel’s beautiful house in Vorobiovo. Nicholas said, ‘I am told, sir, that you swam after my father.’
There was no escape from the tasteless situation. Beside him was his hostess, old Lady Dormer; beyond her Jenkinson; and behind him Ludovic d’Harcourt, whom he had also been asked to bring. Lymond said, ‘We all did a great deal of swimming, and some of us were lucky.’
He paused, and the voice of his child-bride said prosaically, ‘If you are wondering who enlightened him, I did. Robert Best told us the story. Nicholas, Emma is asking for you.’
‘But——’ said Nicholas uncertainly.
‘Emma is asking for you,’ said Philippa firmly. ‘You can come back at suppertime.’ And to Mr Crawford, as the boy disappeared, Philippa said, ‘It is really not easy to receive someone’s thanks, but you must make the effort. Is this the man who doesn’t like eagles?’
Ludovic d’Harcourt, smiling, took her hand. ‘What …? Robert Best?’ Lymond said.
‘No. John Buckland,’ said Philippa. She grinned back at Ludovic d’Harcourt. ‘It was you who buried the Tartar girl?’
‘Philippa …’ said Lady Dormer with a perfect and natural kindliness. ‘I think the gentleman would prefer to enter and sit. Where is Henry …? Ah, there you are. Mr Crawford, Henry; and Mr d’Harcourt. This, gentlemen, is my dear Jane’s uncle, Henry Sidney.’
Courtier, soldier, patron of the arts and the sciences, conqueror in single combat of James Mack O’Neil and Vice Treasurer and General Governor of all the King’s and