The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [291]
And so it had, in a large keg rumbling erratically up the winding, flagged path, propelled by the boy, along with one or two helpers. ‘I am sure,’ said Lymond to the smith’s lad, ‘that your master would release you to continue your guard duties below. Consider me, if you will, as your prisoner. I shall not expect to walk out of that door until you have all assured yourselves that your master is alive and well. Assuming that he is alive and well, that is, to start with. Are you alive, sir?’ he said, turning with interest to Master Bailey. ‘We seem to have heard remarkably little of you in Scotland. But your manor, if I may say so, is very fine. I find that gratifying. They nearly gave it to me.’
Behind his back, an apologetic exodus was going on. With one eye on the detestable face of his great-nephew, ‘Stop!’ said Leonard Bailey. ‘I haven’t said——Youve been bribed!’
‘Just a barrel of ale, sir?’ said the smith’s man, who suddenly seemed to be the only one left ‘And as he says, sir. He can’t get away with it, sir: no matter what he may do.’
‘Who nearly gave what to you?’ Philippa said, against the noise of Master Bailey’s cane ill-temperedly thwacking his desk.
‘Gardington was made over to me once, by the Crown. It’s one of their standard good-conduct prizes for espionage.’
Philippa said, rather blankly, ‘I thought you were spying at that time for Scotland.’
‘Well, I wasn’t spying for England,’ Lymond said. ‘But there was a small campaign afoot to make everyone think I was. A long time ago. But it makes it all the more interesting to find that when I no longer qualified, my great-uncle was presented with Gardington. What loyal service brought this reward, Uncle?’
Leonard Bailey laughed. He glared round the empty room and flung his cane to the floor, and sitting back in his chair gave vent to a bark of fleering, furious laughter. ‘I nearly sent you to the headsman,’ he said.
‘I thought so,’ said Lymond. His manner, perfectly courteous, was such that Philippa, biting her lip, found she preferred not to watch him. With the same exquisite manners he lifted over a chair, and placed her in it. Then he closed the door, and seated himself, on the other side of the desk from his great-uncle.
‘Now,’ said Francis Crawford. ‘Before we talk, there is a small matter I wish to bring to your notice. In a moment, you are going to explain to me what you know of my birth. Since there seems little goodwill between us, I am sure that the explanation, whatever it is, will be one painful to me and my family. I merely wish to warn you that if in the course of it you speak slightingly or with the least disrespect of my mother, I shall indeed throttle you, and tell the men below that you died in a fit.
‘Further’—as Bailey, his face suffused, lifted himself to his feet—‘if you call back your men, you will see not a crown for your pains.’
Bailey stopped, his hand on the window.
‘Sit down,’ Lymond said. ‘And tell me how much my mother has been paying you. For how long? For thirty years?’
‘What?’ said Philippa; and Lymond, impatient, turned round and looked at her.
‘But of course. Or why else have both he and the Lennoxes foregone the chance to make all this public? He hates and despises the Crawfords. But he has been living off them—haven’t you, dearest great-uncle?—all his life.’
‘It was the woman who sinned——’
‘Uncle!’ Lymond said gently.
‘Who made the mistake, and the woman who paid the price. She could afford it.’
‘But since she is not so young now, and not so well, it seemed a good time to insure your income with the next generation.’ And as Philippa stifled an exclamation Lymond said, his blue eyes still on Bailey, ‘That is why he asked you to bring me. You thought it a matter of old grudges and hatred. It is, of course. But it is also a very English matter of trade. You promised me proof,’ Lymond said