The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [162]
The voice came from the stand. As he hesitated, a page in royal livery came running, important with the command. It sounded like a summons to heaven. Perhaps it was.
He had to go as he was, bare-headed, his sallet under his arm. The steps to the royal enclosure were covered with velvet, the rails gilded and carved. He had provided the craftsman himself. And the central chair with its emblazoned awning, from which James the King had just risen. The regal face was unevenly flushed, and a man in riding clothes stood, head bowed in deference behind him.
The news had come.
You made three obeisances, as in Trebizond. Then this King, seventeen years old, said in his uneven voice, ‘It has been in our mind to send for you before this. We are pleased with what you have arranged for our nuptials. So is the lady Margaret, our future consort. The lady Margaret also wishes to thank you.’
Above the belt and collar of jewels, the ermine fichu, the stuffed, golden sleeves thick with embroidery, the lady Margaret’s hairless face regarded him winsomely. He bowed and, when she held out her hand, kissed it and spoke to her. All merchants knew the Hanse languages. She smiled, her eyes widening.
The King said, ‘She thanks you. Master de Fleury?’
Out in the field the last pair of combatants were meeting. They had already made several strikes. No one in the royal stand was watching them. Nicholas said, ‘Yes, my lord King?’
‘I owe you for more than that,’ said the youth. He wore a magnificence of ruby satin. They all did. The colour, burning under the lamps, strove against the rows of fiery Stewart polls and eyebrows, and lost.
The King said, ‘The traitor has fled. You warned us. You were right. We have uncovered the plots of his father. And now the man has proclaimed his guilt. He will never come back. If he comes back, his head will be forfeit.’
‘Your grace?’ Nicholas said.
‘Thomas Boyd, Earl of Arran,’ said the King. ‘He entered the town, saying nothing. He took to his chamber, feigning sickness. Now we learn he has sailed. He returned to the harbour last night and took ship. For where we do not know.’
‘And took Mary with him,’ said an accusing voice. Nicholas turned. Margaret, the King’s red-headed sister from Haddington. Her lip stuck out.
The King said, ‘So it appears. She, too, was said to be unwell. Her husband has overthrown her proper judgement.’
‘My lord,’ said Nicholas de Fleury. ‘Had we known, your friends should have tried to detain them both.’
‘No! No! It is his flight which has proclaimed his guilt! Had he remained, who knows what lying witness he might have produced to try and save himself! That we are spared. We had a canker at the heart of the kingdom, and now it is gone.’
‘With Mary,’ said the inexorable voice.
The King turned his back on his sister. ‘We have therefore much to thank you for. In the months ahead, it will lie in our power to show proper gratitude. In the meantime, we wish to enhance something you already possess. You are a Knight?’
‘Of the Order of the Sword, your grace,’ Nicholas said.
‘And is there a sword in this place?’ said the King.
There was a rustle. Outside, someone was counting aloud. Twenty-one. Twenty-two …
Numbers. Make friends of numbers, and they will never let you down; never weary you; never sicken you. A sword was brought. ‘Kneel,’ said the King.
It was the Order of the Unicorn to which he was being admitted: the Order of which Anselm Adorne was already a Knight. The chain laid round his shoulders was borrowed from another, until his own could be made. ‘But you are no less a knight of this kingdom for that,’ said the King as he rose. ‘And will use your title forthwith, for it is not some mean order of Cyprus, but one known to the world. As for your chain, Wilhelm can make it.’
‘My lord King,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have no words. But look. I have arranged the heavens to speak for me.’
They thought him a magician, but he had seen, in the dark, the glimmer high on the Rock where he knew to look for