The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [84]
Simon turned and, flinging himself full length, seized the shears and brought them round in a single red murderous swing.
The girl shrieked. The other man, obeying some instinct, threw himself over and away and then turned, crouching, his fingers touching the ground as the shearpoints sank thudding down where he had been. Simon tugged them out and then stopped, for the girl was standing between them again, and in her two hands was the door-key held fast in the claws of the tongs. Claws and door-key glowed red. She said, ‘Give me the shears.’
Behind her, the younger man stood. He said, ‘Give her them.’
Simon hesitated. The key was darkening. She was only a girl.
She was Adorne’s niece, and a witness.
He said, ‘There are other ways,’ and flung the shears to the back of the room. The girl was so short that he and de Fleury stood eye to eye, even though she was placed between them. Then she had gone, running, to open the door.
The other man said, ‘There are no other ways.’
‘You have partners,’ Simon said. ‘And possessions. Berecrofts will regret sheltering you, my friend, before this night is over.’
‘The night is over, for you,’ the other man said, his voice strange, and stepped forward.
It was the last vindictive flare of their battle, and brief though it was, it lasted in its fury until fresh, cold, powerful hands pulled them apart and held them, still struggling, like beasts. Then Simon stood still and Anselm Adorne, slackening his grip, transformed it into one of light support. Opposite, young Sersanders kept a strong arm round de Fleury until he too was still. Then Adorne’s nephew shifted his grasp, with no tenderness, to his arms. His eyes, scanning Simon, were bright with horrified anger, and his dress caked and glistening with snow. Behind, the open door was a luminous rectangle of swirling, feathery white. Nicholas de Fleury said, ‘You wouldn’t care to give us five more minutes alone? For the price of a ship?’
Adorne said, ‘You are barking-drunk, both of you. So is half the Court. St Pol, take my cloak and go while I hold him. There are horses waiting outside. Can you manage to ride to Linlithgow?’
Simon said, ‘He had me dragged here roped to two riders.’ He had not meant to blurt it out. But the alternative, now, was to have the other man walk out scatheless to Berecrofts.
Nicholas de Fleury said, ‘I felt he deserved it. Should we not tell the whole story? Should we not go back and complain to the parasol of authority together?’ The girl had brought in a torch, quick as a firefly, and was lighting others. They made a sunken glare of de Fleury’s face, the dimples black as charcoal, or scorchmarks. The cool response had come from a furnace.
Adorne spoke to Simon. ‘Pay no attention. You can’t. Go. I shall take care of this.’
‘No,’ the Fleming said.
‘Do I need to explain?’ Adorne said. He stood, cloakless now, experienced and, of course, admirable, as he had stood victor in the lists against Simon himself. He said, ‘So far, no one knows of this but we five. Do you want the world to witness this feud? St Pol, go!’ The girl, running about, was raking together all the lethal debris under their feet and throwing it, with efficiency, into the third room, where the snow was melting under the window.
‘Let us go together,’ de Fleury said. The girl looked at him, and shut the door.
Adorne said, ‘So that you can attack him again?’
‘Would you let me?’ said de Fleury. ‘I won’t harm him.’
‘I don’t propose to let you try,’ Adorne said.
‘Then you’ll have to follow us,’ Nicholas de Fleury said; and, flinging Sersanders off, took a first step towards Simon. Adorne exclaimed and sprang forward. Someone – the girl – dragged at Simon’s arm, pulling him towards the door, and thrusting her uncle’s cloak into his arms. Simon looked back.
Adorne shouted ‘Go!’ The word ended in a gasp. From the door, Simon saw the three men struggling together. There was nothing he could do. Just now, there was no way he could get rid of this man. But there