To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [303]
He was full of invention, and so was the girl. It began with word play and with chanting and then developed into a variety of games, sometimes the three of them on their own; sometimes appropriating other parties of adults and children. He bought everybody mulled wine and pastries from the great tent with the portable oven. They played dangerous leapfrog and danced. He borrowed a sledge and set off careering one-footed with Gelis. He took Kathi under the arms and spun with her. She flew, fast and neat as a whip, brown hair flying, her hands on his shoulders, her serviceable boots firmly together. By then, the young men had come clustering to lure her away. Set down, her cheeks crimson, her eyes brilliant, she threw out her hands in enquiring despair.
‘Oh, go on,’ Nicholas said. ‘But keep Willie’s verses in mind. Where is Willie?’
‘In Haddington with the Princesses,’ Gelis said. ‘And just as well, too.’ She paused and added, ‘What verses?’
Kathi had gone. Nicholas grinned. ‘All about her aspiring husbands. Don’t ask to hear them: you wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye for a week. Oh look, there’s Tobie.’
Gelis knew that tone of voice. She looked first, and saw what he meant her to see. She said, ‘With Mistress Clémence!’
‘Kathi’s suggestion,’ he said. ‘She says he’ll end up doubting everything he’s ever been taught, including his toilet training. He wasn’t anxious to come, but he seems to be sticking it. Come on. I want to teach you something.’
Tobie said, ‘That was rather remarkable.’
Mistress Clémence said, ‘It is pleasant to see them so light-hearted. Dr Tobias, do you know the history of this piece of water?’
‘The history?’ Tobie said. He was watching Kathi speed off, a seal-coated mascot in a small group of covetous men. She had made Nicholas laugh again and again, and Gelis, too, had thrown herself into the sport. Now Nicholas appeared to be teaching something to Gelis; she kept stopping to laugh, and so did he. She looked beautiful. Tobie saw that he had brought her another cup of hot wine.
Mistress Clémence said, ‘This is an artificial lake only thirty years old, created to defend the north side of the Castle. It is fed from the well-house over there, and by springs. Its height is controlled by a dam and sluice at the east end, by the Trinity College gardens, through which the sluice water runs. Skating is perfectly safe so long as the water is frozen quite solid, but care is required as the season advances.’
‘Why are you kneeling?’ said Tobie.
‘To listen,’ said Mistress Clémence, sitting up. ‘I am sure there is no reason to worry, but if you will lay your ear to the ice, you will hear a murmur of fresh running water. It is not frozen solid.’
Tobie listened. She was right. She reminded him of a tutor he had once had and disliked. He said, ‘None of the natives appears to be nervous. In any case, Jodi leaves soon. Will the Berecrofts escort him?’
‘In great numbers,’ she said. ‘They will send us word. You will be able to rest. Do you take very much exercise as a rule?’
It was unfair. He had just bought her a pancake.
Jodi’s scream, when it came, was not heard by his nurse or his parents, for the noise between them submerged it. Even Robin, kneeling to replace a glove, didn’t at first understand why the child had pulled his hand away and exploded into terrified screeches, dragging his scarf down, drawing every eye to his scarlet face and petrified stare. Then the sound came to his ears: a sound no greater than the cluck of