The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [267]
‘Incantations,’ Lymond said. ‘Wisdom in the form of counterfeit pearls of dried fish eyes, to accompany the votive offerings.’
‘Travelling about in a wheeled cult-vehicle known as St Mary’s, to the sound of imprecations.… Do I frighten you?’ said Philippa.
‘Yes,’ Lymond said.
‘That’s odd. I don’t frighten Austin Grey. The Lion in Affrik and the Bear in Sarmatia are fierce, but——’
‘… but Translated into a Contrary Heaven, are of less strength and courage. It is not necessary, Mistress Somerville, for the heaven to be quite so contrary. Are you looking forward to Greenwich?’
‘No,’ Philippa said. ‘The Queen has a cold. She isn’t appearing in public.’
‘And King Philip is arranging to go hunting with the Duchesses of Lorraine and Parma?’ Lymond said. ‘How is Cardinal Pole treating the delicate problem of King Philip’s threats to His Holiness?’
Philippa glanced at Lady Dormer and smiled, while diplomatically lowering her voice. ‘As Papal Legate, he publicly failed to give King Philip the formal welcome which was his due. In private, he called on him later to apologize.’
‘And the Queen?’ Lymond said.
For a moment, Philippa was silent. Then she said, ‘The Queen has written to Rome, expressing great regret at the rupture between His Holiness and the King her consort, especially as she had done so much to return England to its devotion to the Church. And she excused herself for giving King Philip her help, as she couldn’t do otherwise.’
Lymond said, ‘They talk of war when the harvest is in.’
The chatter all round the tabled covered their words. Lady Dormer, assuming them launched on a battle of words, had not attempted to separate them. Philippa said, ‘Sooner than that.’
Lymond gave his attention to the meal. ‘Can you tell me?’
She said, ‘There is a plot afoot, among the English rebels in France. The English Council know all the circumstances. If … the threatened event occurs, the blame will fall on France, whether the King was truly implicated or not. And if that happens, it may move English popular feeling at last towards war.’
‘Against the Pope?’ Lymond said.
‘Against the French. It is the same thing,’ said Philippa. ‘I am not looking forward to Greenwich. And my advice to anyone with a shipload of munitions would be to sail. To sail quickly, before you are stopped.’
‘I shall be gone in three weeks,’ Lymond said.
‘And I before that,’ said Henry Sidney, catching it. ‘Aunt Jane, I have an errand. May I steal some of your guests to befriend me?’
His journey was only to Blackfriars, a few minutes down-river from Lady Dormer’s. His errand was merely to talk to a man about hangings. And because the place of his appointment was the Office of the Revels and Masques, Mistress Philippa begged to go with him, on a matter, he understood, to do with feathers.
Sir Henry had hoped to have a few minutes’ quiet conversation with Mr Crawford. Mr Crawford, perhaps, had hoped the same. But in the event, five of Lady Dormer’s dinner guests took leave of her presently and embarked for Blackfriars: Sir Henry and Mr Crawford, Philippa Somerville and Ludovic d’Harcourt and the boy Nicholas Chancellor who had never, he said, been in the Storehouse of the Revels. And since it was a sunny, sparkling day and the company was both gay and congenial, Sir Henry smiled and let affairs take their course.
It was a short journey, and more fateful than any one of them knew. A journey inevitable from the day Francis Crawford was born, and set firm in his stars where already old eyes had distinguished it and younger eyes, also far-seeing, had chosen to ignore and defy it.
Of its significance he himself had no inkling when he set out, relaxed by the company a trifle more than was usually possible; his quilted shirt sleeves white in the sun under his sleeveless green jerkin; his sunlit head sheathed in his high, elegant collar. The two barges rocked at the steps, their four