The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [283]
He did not drink any more than he had become accustomed to drinking. But he did not answer, either, when Ludovic d’Harcourt, penitent, returned to tap on his door.
On April 25th, there was held at court the Masque of the Allmaynes, the Pilgrims and the Irishmen. It was most successful, although it was noted that the Pilgrims’ robes were decorated with a most unusual linear design in yellow ochre, sap green and dragon red. Mistress Philippa was complimented on the effects of her feathers.
On April 26th, Master Peter Vannes, Dean of Salisbury and late English Ambassador to the Doge of Venice, crossed from Calais to Dover with his secretary, his servant, his four stirrupmen, his men at arms and a prisoner. In the baggage, nailed down as he had received it from the Bailiff of Padua, was a box containing all the personal correspondence of the late Edward Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire, sometime claimant to the monarchy of England. An idle man, waiting about the harbour at Dover witnessed the arrival and, travelling post, set out to cover the seventy-two miles from Dover to Fenchurch Street, London.
On the same day, April 26th, there arrived off the town of Scarborough on the north-east coast of England two French ships, on their way to land French troops in Scotland. They also carried an English rebel named Thomas Stafford and a hundred soldiers, part French and part English refugees. Stafford, a nephew of Cardinal Pole’s and a grandson of the late Duke of Buckingham, landed on the coast with his friends, and, seizing Scarborough castle, proclaimed himself King. The local militia, who had been warned long ago to expect precisely such an attack, were awaiting him quietly and moving in under the leadership of his other uncle the 5th Earl of Westmorland, captured Stafford and rounded up almost all the invaders.
On Wednesday, April 28th, before the news of Peter Vannes’s landing or the news of the Scarborough invasion reached London, and ignorant therefore of both events, Francis Crawford of Lymond cancelled his engagements and, releasing his staff for the day, set off alone and fast out of London, to ride forty miles to the manor of Gardington, Bucks., there to call on his great-uncle, Leonard Bailey.
It was raining. He passed some carts making their way to the city, with milk, and farm produce, and kegs and parcels done up in sacking; and one or two vagabonds, and the odd man in a good coat, with servants and runners, coming up early from his house in the country. But few, as yet, bound outwards from London as he was.
Lymond had ridden a few miles therefore before he became aware of the drumming of hoof beats behind him, travelling as fast as his own over the mud and stones of the highway. Without pausing, he threw a glance over his shoulder, and saw the rider was hooded and cloaked, and was waving to him. An instant later, and he recognized Philippa.
For a long and critical moment, it appeared to Philippa that he had not observed her and that she was going to have to put two fingers between her teeth, regrettably, and whistle him over. Then he brought his weight to bear on the powerful horse, and slowed it down and, wheeling, rode back towards her.
Her hood bounding: ‘Ludo told me,’ called Philippa, trotting likewise to meet him. ‘You were going to Gardington?’
He looked underslept. He came to rest beside her, his gaze wry but not unduly harsh. Only Philippa recognized the aura of resistance surrounding him, like the kindly, masterful, obdurate resistance Lady Dormer displayed when brought face to face with a lapse in good breeding. But Philippa, through the months, had learned how to deal with Lady Dormer. So she greeted him again. ‘Khúsh Geldi. Are you going to Gardington?’
And he said, ‘Yes. And you are going to protect me?’
‘You need a witness,’ said Philippa. ‘Unwanted, unasked, unwelcome as ever, here I am.’
‘Again,’ said Lymond.
If she had not been expecting it, it might have hurt; although he had not spoken sharply. ‘Yes, again,’