The Scottish Prisoner - Diana Gabaldon [68]
But why him? Why did the Greys need him?
For the poem, first. The Wild Hunt, in Erse. That much, he could see. For while the Greys might have found someone among the Scottish or Irish regiments who had the Gàidhlig, it would be indiscreet—and possibly dangerous, given that they hadn’t known what the document contained—to put knowledge of it in the hands of someone they couldn’t control as they did Lally and him.
He grimaced at the thought of their control but put it aside.
So. Having brought him to London to translate the verse, was it then merely economical to make further use of him? That made sense only if Lord John actually required assistance to apprehend Siverly, and Jamie was not sure that he did. Whatever else you liked to say about the man, he was a competent soldier.
If it was a straight matter of showing Siverly the order to appear at a court-martial and escorting him there, John Grey could plainly do that without Jamie Fraser’s help. Likewise, if it were a matter of arresting the man, a detachment of soldiers would accomplish it fine.
Ergo, it wasn’t a straightforward matter. What the devil did they expect to happen? He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, letting the warm sweet fumes of well-rotted manure help to focus his mind.
Siverly might well simply refuse to come back with Lord John to England. Rather than face a court-martial, he might resign his commission and either stay in Ireland or depart—as so many had—to take service with a foreign army or to live abroad; peculation on the scale Pardloe had shown him must have given Siverly the means for that.
Should he so refuse—or hear of the matter beforehand and escape—then Jamie might be of use in finding or taking the man, yes. With a bit of practice, he’d likely get along in the Gaeilge well enough; he could make inquiries—and his way—in places where the Greys couldn’t. And then there was the matter of connections. There were Jacobites in Ireland and in France who would show him courtesy for the sake of the Stuarts, as well as his own name, but who would turn a closed face and a deaf ear to the Greys, no matter what the virtue of their quest. Despite himself, his brain began to compile a list of names, and he shook his head violently to stop it.
Yes, he might be useful. But was the possibility of Siverly’s flight enough?
He remembered what Lord John had said about Quebec. Siverly had saved John Grey’s life during the battle there. He supposed Lord John might find it an embarrassment to arrest Siverly and thus prefer Jamie to haul him back to England. He would have thought that notion funny, had he not had firsthand experience with the Grey family’s sense of honor.
Even that … but there was a third possibility, wasn’t there?
Siverly might fight. And Siverly might be killed.
“Jesus, Lord,” he said softly.
What if Pardloe wanted Siverly killed? The possibility once named seemed as sure to him as if he’d seen it written down in rhymed couplets. Whatever the duchess had seemed to be saying to him in her nocturnal visit, there was something in the Siverly affair that touched her deeply—and what touched her, touched the duke.
He’d no idea what the connection was between the duchess and Edward Twelvetrees, but he was sure it was there. And the duchess had told him that Edward Twelvetrees was an intimate of Siverly’s. Something moved in the web surrounding him, and he could feel the warning twitch of the sticky strand wrapped round his foot.
He took a long breath and let it out slowly.
In the cold light of logic, the answer was obvious—one answer, at least. Jamie was here because he was expendable. Better: because he could be made not to exist.
No one cared what became of a prisoner of war, especially not one held for so long, in such remote circumstances. The Dunsanys would not complain if he never came back, nor ask what had happened to him. His sister and Ian might—well, they would—make inquiries, but it would be a simple matter merely to inform them that he