After Flodden (29 page)

Louise stared at an emerald the size of a robin’s egg, embedded in a heavy gold claw. ‘I cannot . . . ’ she began.

Gabriel kissed the top of her head. ‘My sweet, you must. It was my father’s. He gave it me on his death, as his own father had done. The emerald is an emblem of my country, but it is
also the colour of my father’s eyes. I think of him every time I look on it, and I wish you to remember me also, should I die.

‘But,’ he continued brightly, ‘I do not intend that to happen. I plan to come back, and to marry you. This ring is my pledge.’

‘Marry me?’ she asked. ‘Marry?’ She took a step back. ‘I am flattered, my lord, deeply. And yet . . . ’ She looked at him, troubled though she was not sure
why. ‘We scarcely know each other. And I thought we said nothing could be settled between us yet . . . ’

Gabriel placed a finger on her lips. ‘I spoke like a fool,’ he said. ‘How could I not want you for ever? We are made for each other.’ He kissed her again, his tongue deep
in her mouth, and a hand undoing her jerkin and finding the thin bodice beneath.

After their first kiss, Louise had day-dreamed of such a moment. But now he was pressing against her she felt panic. His grip was becoming too tight, squeezing the breath from her. As his hands
moved over her, pulling up her skirts, he gave a moan, and his knee pushed her legs apart.

With a wrench she pulled herself out of his hold. She stared at him, too shaken to speak.

‘You’re right, my love,’ he said, stepping back. ‘This is not the place. Not the time. What are we thinking? Any minute now our chaperone will be back. But soon now,
sweet little one, very soon . . . ’ His face was flushed, and he looked on her with an expression she could not read, or did not want to.

Her voice trembled. ‘I will take your ring,’ she said, ‘and keep it safe. But be very clear, I will give it back to you the moment you return. I cannot think of marrying right
now. Not you. Not anyone.’ She could not meet his eye, but Gabriel seemed unaware of the shadow that had passed between them.

Turning from him, she slipped the jewel into her chemise, where it pressed hard against her heart. At that moment, Crozier returned. She did not think he had noticed her adjusting her clothes or
blinking away her tears.

*    *    *

After days in the wilds with only the sound of birdsong, the noise of Durham city was like a hammer on Gabriel’s skull. He put a hand to his bruised forehead to steady
himself, then marched on with an expression of disgust at the squalor around him. Tall and imposing though he was, with his riding cloak and sword, and his broad-brimmed hat, he had to stand aside
for the urchins and street sellers who barrelled their way along the cobbled streets as if they would rather trample over him than deviate from their path by a single step. Their cries made his
head ache, as did the bells of beggars, hirpling from door to door, and the stench from the tanneries, no less pungent here than it had been on the bedraggled outskirts.

Gabriel led his horse up towards the centre, taking care not to step in the gutters, where liquid filth bubbled and swam. The city was a warren built on a hill as steep as a belfry, and the
streets snaked this way and that, as if in playful mood. None led him where he expected, and many disappeared into shadowed alleyways he preferred to avoid, even at this innocent time of day.

At the city’s crown stood the cathedral, soaringly massive against the sky. For all its plain beauty, it cast an admonitory eye over the streets below, a severity echoed by the castle
which was not only as plain but forbidding. It stared down on its citizens as if hoping to catch them in crime, but Gabriel headed straight for it. He brushed past the ale-sellers and flower girls
whose booths ringed the castle mound, and was soon at its gates. Rapping on the sentry’s grille with his whip, he demanded to see the governor. There was no trace of doubt in his manner.
‘Tell your master he has a visitor from the court. I must see him this instant. It is the Viscount Rutland.’

‘He ain’t here,’ said the sentry. ‘Gone north with the bishop.’

‘Well, his deputy then,’ said Gabriel, feeling sweat prickling on his neck. ‘Just fetch whoever is in charge, will you?’

‘That’ll be Constable Ridley,’ said the sentry. He disappeared, and a few minutes later the side-gate was unbolted, creaking as if it had not been opened in years.

The governor’s office reeked of sweat. Under a clammy brow, the constable looked warily at his guest, but offered him a tumbler of wine, which Gabriel downed in the time it took his host
to remove his helmet, and settle behind a desk that all but filled his chamber.

‘What brings you so far north, my lord?’ he asked. ‘I thought there was business enough at court to keep you and your kind close to the crownhead in these desperate
times?’

Gabriel gave a cold smile. ‘With Henry in France, and affairs settled in Scotland, it matters not where the court finds itself. Anyway, that is none of your concern. But what must and does
concern you is one of your prisoners. I have been sent by the lord lieutenant to find him.’

The constable was stung by his tone. ‘That a fact?’ he said, with a look that was turning swiftly from surly to suspicious. ‘It’s not so many days since Surrey was last
here, and he said nothing about this matter.’

‘How could he, since it has only just come to light? Events are moving swiftly, dear fellow, on all our borders. Let me explain.’

Gabriel bent forward and lowered his voice, obliging the constable to lean across his desk if he wanted to catch his words. The viscount talked as if he was rolling damsons around his mouth, so
elegantly English he might have been the king’s brother.

‘We believe you might be holding the man in part responsible for the king’s present troubles in France and in the north. A spy in other words, who has been passing information to
both enemy sides.’

The constable frowned. ‘We have taken many prisoners here since Flodden, both Scots and French. I have no note of their names, and in their condition it’s hard to tell one face from
another. Where they’re going, it hardly matters.’ He swallowed. ‘Who is this man, and how will you recognise him?’

‘His name is Benoit Brenier, and I know him well. His complexion is so poor, I could find him blindfold, but I trust that won’t be necessary.’

‘And if he is here, as you suspect, what next? I cannot release him unless you bring orders from the king or his lieutenant.’

‘There would be no need to release him,’ said Gabriel, ‘but I do have authority from Surrey to interrogate this prisoner and handle him as I see fit. The lord lieutenant has
been called urgently to London, otherwise he would have seen to the matter himself.’

He handed the constable a parchment stamped with Surrey’s seal. ‘One would only need to spend an hour in conversation with the suspect, nothing more.’ He met the
soldier’s eyes. ‘I am sure you understand me perfectly. We need information. And names. We may be obliged to find ways to persuade the prisoner to offer these up. In that enquiry, I
feel sure you would be an able assistant.’

The constable scanned the letter. It was simply worded, and the signature was Surrey’s, or very like, as was the seal. He sensed something was awry, but if the viscount’s request was
legitimate, he would lose his post for refusing it. And there could be no harm, he reasoned, in showing this man the cells. At the very least he would enjoy seeing his lordship pale at the scenes
below.

With a grunt he rose from his chair, lifted an iron ring dripping with keys and led Gabriel into the passage. Summoning a guard to accompany them, he unlocked the first of many doors that led to
the dungeons.

*    *    *

On the hill, behind a bluff of rock and gorse, Louise and Crozier hid. Durham stretched out far below. From this distance its streets and houses looked orderly and neat as a
game of counters on a board.

As the day progressed, a pall of smoke thickened over the rooftops, but the smell of burning firewood only made them colder. To help pass the time, they eked out their day’s ration of
food, but they spoke very little. Voices carried far in these hills, and Louise was busy with her own thoughts. Crozier too, it seemed.

From their post, they watched farmers and pedlars making their way to town. A party of monks filed by, so close they could smell beer and onions on the air. Flattened on the ground, and praying
the men did not turn and see the horses tethered among the willows, they waited for a cry of discovery, but none came. Thereafter, they took turns watching for intruders over the rocks, taking care
not to show more than the top of their heads.

As the day slipped away, Louise grew anxious. Crozier was leaning against a tree, his brim low over his eyes. The vixen lay by him, head on paws. Louise crept to his side. ‘What do we do
if he doesn’t come back by dark?’ she whispered.

‘We leave.’

‘Abandon him? He might need our help. How can you even think of it?’

Crozier sat up, and pushed back his hat. ‘Look, lassie, how many search parties do you intend to lead? First your brother, which I understand, and now this silver-tongued lord, which is
harder to fathom.’ He raised his hand to cut short her protests. ‘If he does not return, he has either run into trouble, and there’s nothing either of us can do about that. Or he
is delayed. If that’s the case, he will know to head north on his own. But we can’t sit out here overnight, it would be deadly dangerous. It’s unsafe enough as it is.’

He could see she was not convinced. ‘Listen, lass, Torrance knew the risks when he agreed to do this.’

‘I know,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think I did.’

Crozier sighed. ‘I can see you have an affection for him, and he for you. That’s plain to anyone. But you are here for your brother’s sake, and if you can’t get news of
him tonight, you must make your way home. There’s nothing more you can do for Benoit out here, and with each day in these parts you put your own life in peril. If we must set off without
Torrance, once we reach the border I can set you on the road to Edinburgh with one of my men, but I must then get back to my people. I’ve already been away too long.’

She looked miserable, and he put a hand briefly on her arm. ‘But it’s early to be thinking like this. We have another few hours before we must leave. He may well be back before
then.’

There was a rustle of grass behind them, and they turned, expecting to see the courtier. Before they could take in what was happening, an arm caught Louise around the waist, and she was dragged
to the ground, with a knife at her neck and a hand over her mouth. A soldier stood with his boot on Crozier’s chest and his sword pricking his throat. The vixen was barking like a banshee,
darting in to bite the soldiers, retreating to a safe distance when they swung their blades at her, where she continued to yap.

‘Will you look at this, then!’ cried the one holding Louise, who was the older and fatter. ‘A cosy little party for two. Mind if we join ye?’

The soldier standing over Crozier snickered. He moved his blade across the Borderer’s throat, as if tracing the gash he planned to inflict. ‘I wonder what youse are doing out here,
so secret like,’ he said. ‘Nothing good, I reckon. But ain’t she a bit old and lardy for the likes of you?’

Crozier looked to Louise, whose eyes were frantic above her captor’s hand. Imperceptibly he shook his head, but it was too late. In that instant she had bitten the hand so hard she reached
the bone. The soldier squealed and released her, doubling up over his injury. Louise scrambled to her knees, but before she could run, he reached out his bloodied hand and caught her ankle, pulling
her back towards him. He twisted her arms behind her back, and spoke over her shoulder into her ear. ‘Nasty little thing, you are. You need a lesson in manners, don’t you?’

Pinioning her with his knee, he began to unbuckle his belt. His friend laughed again. ‘You’re gonnae enjoy this,’ he said to Crozier, ‘and come to think of it, so am I.
It’s my turn next.’ He pressed the sword tip deeper, and a trickle of blood ran into Crozier’s shirt. The Borderer’s breathing quickened and his hand inched towards his
hilt. Seeing this, the soldier stamped on his chest, knocking the breath out of him. ‘Don’t even think of trying to move,’ he said. ‘I wis a butcher’s boy one time,
and I can do things with flesh that wid make ye regret it.’

Beside herself with fury, the vixen bobbed and barked, nipping the older soldier’s heels as he fumbled under his jerkin. Cursing the dog, he jabbed his sword at her, then loosened his
britches and hoisted up Louise’s skirts. She kicked and squirmed, but he was too strong for her. Rage and humiliation washed over her, scalding as boiling water as she waited for what must
follow. But as the soldier rolled onto her he gave an eerie whistling sigh, and she felt his full weight slump down, heavy and dead as a sack of meal. The younger soldier gave a surprised holler,
then a shriek. At the same time there was a gurgle and a hiss at her ear and a spurt of pumping blood hit the grass by her head.

She was screaming when Gabriel dragged her clear of her attacker, whose throat he had slit. By the time she was on her feet, and ripping off her blood-soaked cap, Crozier too was free, kicking
his assailant’s body aside and wiping his sword on the grass. The dead man’s stomach gaped.

‘More coming up the hill,’ cried Gabriel. ‘Get out of here!’

Blinded by panic, half-crazed by the smell of blood on her face and hands, Louise ran for the horses. Crozier pitched her and the vixen into the saddle, and gathering her reins, leapt onto his
mare and tugged her pony into a gallop at his side. They blundered their way through the wood, branches whipping their faces. When they reached the hill-top Crozier handed Louise her reins and they
turned, panting, to catch the gleam of pikes as soldiers milled around their hiding place. Hooves pounded the earth close by, and Gabriel rode into sight, crouched low over his horse’s
neck.

‘Get a move on!’ he shouted. ‘There’s mounted soldiers close behind!’

What followed was the terrified flight of the hunted animal, whose pursuers never tire. Fast though their horses could gallop, they did not know these parts, and at every hill and turn the
hoofbeats that once were faint, grew louder. With two murdered comrades to avenge, and the knowledge that they were dealing with no ordinary criminals, the soldiers were not going to give up.