After Flodden (30 page)

Even Crozier began to flag. Wheeling to a halt, he held up his hand. In the darkness, they listened. The rumble of hooves down the track told them the soldiers were a mile or less behind.
‘We can’t throw them off,’ he said. ‘We have to hide and let them pass.’

‘Here? Where can we hide?’ Louise’s voice was shrill.

‘I don’t know yet, but somewhere close. When I dismount, follow me quickly.’

A few miles later, he leapt off his mare and led them down a steep embankment into a wooded gully where a stream tumbled off the hills. ‘For God’s sake keep the dog quiet,’ he
hissed, and Louise put her hand over the vixen’s snout.

They had barely hidden themselves when the soldiers could be heard approaching. Louise felt light-headed as they got close. A jingling posse of twenty or more, they rode past, black against
black. As they drew level, Gabriel’s stallion raised its head and whinnied. The courtier quickly calmed it, but Louise shuddered. If the soldiers found them, they were as good as dead. She
could only hope it would be swift.

The stallion went unheard. It was their only stroke of luck that miserable day. Weary, and frightened, Louise said a silent prayer of thanks to the Blessed Virgin, and soon there was only the
sound of rushing water in the night. For the moment, the soldiers were gone.

‘Well done, sir,’ said Gabriel. ‘That was a clever move.’

‘Maybe,’ said Crozier, ‘but now we must find our way back, without running into them. We have no choice but to ride on tonight, and through the day. It’ll be
hazardous.’

Gabriel took Louise’s arm in the dark. ‘Take heart. We are safe now. And I have news of your brother. He is alive.’

‘Alive? Alive? Oh sweet Jesus, I can’t believe it . . . ’ She dissolved into tears, and Gabriel held her until she was quiet. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling
herself from his hold. ‘It’s just . . . I had almost given up hope.’

‘Naturally,’ said Gabriel. ‘How could you not.’

‘Was he there? Did you speak with him?’

The conversation that followed would stay with Louise for the rest of her life, as an encounter with pure horror. The courtier’s voice was eerie, hushed and close as it was in the
darkness, but it was his words that chilled her. As he spoke, he took her hand, as if to charge her with courage. By her side, Crozier stood, silent and solid.

‘There is something you need to know,’ he said. ‘Your brother was indeed a prisoner at the castle. Few Scots soldiers were brought there, other than those who would fetch a
good ransom. Benoit was easy to remember because he made quite a nuisance of himself. The constable did not know his name, but after I made him realise how important this matter was, and made it
worth his while to search his memory, he did eventually recall that a man picked up at Flodden had hammered on the cell door day and night demanding to be released.

‘When nothing would shut him up, the governor asked what he meant by it. He said he had a right to be set free, and if anyone doubted it, they should speak to the lieutenant of the north,
Lord Surrey, who knew him, and the services he had rendered the country, very well.’

‘Knew him well?’ A barn owl glided low over their heads, a glimmer of white against the dark, and Louise found herself following its ghostly flight as if to deflect the words that
kept falling, a slow drip of poison.

‘He made such a fuss, the governor eventually summoned Surrey. I spoke to Benoit’s cell mates, such as could still talk.’ Gabriel hesitated. The memory of the dungeons was raw,
and he felt queasy as he revisited the scene. He swallowed. ‘One old Highlander told me that Surrey arrived late one night, and after a brief parlay through the bars, had Benoit removed from
the dungeon. He swears he heard a bag of coins being put into your brother’s hand as the door closed behind him.’

Louise was perplexed. ‘What does all this mean?’

‘It may not be as bad as it sounds,’ said Gabriel. Louise pulled her hand from his, and folded her arms. She would not cry. The vixen pressed against her legs, as if to comfort
her.

‘What does it mean?’ she repeated.

‘I admit it looks suspicious,’ he replied. ‘On the face of it, it would appear he has committed treason. We have first-hand evidence that he has been in the English
commander’s pay. There is nothing I can think that he would have been able to offer but information. After all, thanks to your sister, and his work at the shipyards, he was close to the court
– ’

Louise gasped, but Gabriel pressed on. ‘Is it possible he also passed news from the French ambassador to Surrey? It seems conceivable, since he too is French.’

‘So you believe he is a spy,’ said Louise in a voice so hard none of them recognised it. ‘Well, you could not be more wrong. Benoit is the most loyal man I have ever known. To
pass secrets to the English would be to betray both his countries. He is a Frenchman, yes, but Scotland is his home. He loves it. You call yourself my friend, and yet you doubt my brother, on the
basis of nothing but hearsay.’

‘Dearest . . . ’ Gabriel reached for her, but she stepped back.

‘If what you say is true, there will be a good explanation for it. I will not believe him a traitor. Nothing will convince me of that. I am grateful to you for the trouble you have gone
to, but if you want to believe the worst of him, I will have nothing more to do with you.’ At this, a cry escaped her and she buried her face in her pony’s mane, muffling her sobs.

Gabriel sighed. He moved towards her, but Crozier stopped him. ‘Leave her be,’ he said. ‘She’s in shock. She’s had a desperate day. No doubt she’ll come
around.’

They moved away and stood silently, listening to the wood around them, though it could not mask the sound of her tears. Some time passed before she could face them again. Patting the vixen, she
wiped her eyes and joined them. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, though it was unclear to whom. ‘I’m not entirely myself. If I can only wash the blood off my face, I will be
better.’

Crouched on the stream’s bank, she splashed icy water over her face and hair. When eventually the stickiness and stench of the soldier’s blood was gone, she rose. She ached in every
bone, but she knew the cause was fear rather than fever. The soldier’s assault had left her trembling, but that was as nothing to what she had learnt about her brother. If such damning
evidence could be brought against him, he would not only die, but publicly, and most cruelly. ‘We should be off then,’ she said, clenching her teeth to stop their chattering.

Gabriel touched her arm. ‘Louise, your brother may already be safely back in Scotland. It’s likely that as . . . as an associate in some way of Surrey, he will have a safe conduct,
and can travel by day. We must make for Leith, and hope to find him there. He will be able to explain everything when we see him.’

‘No doubt you’re right,’ she replied, stonily. ‘So let’s make a start.’ She picked up the vixen, and tucked her under her arm.

Crozier approached her. ‘Ma’am,’ he said, ‘there’s a long ride ahead, and you will be cold. Take this.’ Without waiting for a reply, he draped his riding
cloak around her, the old, soft leather blanketing her from the night air. She pulled the hood over her head, and smelled pinewood, the scent of Crozier’s Keep. ‘Thank you,’ she
said, but he was gone, leading the mare out of the wood and onto the trail.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

14 October 1513

They rode through that night alert to the slightest noise in case it brought the enemy. Often they halted to listen closely to the wind, before moving on. Sensing their fear,
the horses were skittish, and only when morning broke did they and their mounts grow calmer. Under the Borderer’s command, they travelled long into the day, stopping briefly to water and feed
the horses, and eat the dwindling remains of their supplies. Crozier kept them to the hill-tops and forests, where few would be about. Heedless of their route, Louise was white-faced and silent. As
they rode, she went over the information Gabriel had learned, as if by revisiting it from every angle she might find an answer, a clue they had overlooked.

Perhaps Surrey had given Benoit money to pass a message back to Patrick Paniter and the Scottish court? She could think of no other explanation for that sinister transaction. And yet it did not
explain why Benoit was already known to the English commander. That knowledge lodged like a fishbone in her throat. Had he, like her father, lived a double life?

Her head ached. As they headed north, a gruelling, sleepless slog across hills and marshes, she passed from fury and fear to exquisite pain. Not since the news of her father’s and
sister’s deaths had she felt like this. It was as if her heart, battered by too much emotion, had gone cold in her chest. She felt numb, while at the same time hurting as if mortally
wounded.

No direction she turned brought comfort. Benoit must be innocent, but who else would believe that? He would never be given a fair hearing. In this climate, the country needed a scapegoat, and
who better than a swarthy foreigner to bear the burden of guilt for a battle lost, and the nation’s future with it?

The pony’s hooves drummed beneath her: Benoit was as good as dead. Better he had fallen at Flodden. The words knitted themselves into the hoofbeats, and she pushed back her hood, to let
the wind clear her head of the wicked refrain.

They were two days on the road before the country began to change. Yellow, grass-blown hills stretched to a blue horizon, where the Cheviots melted into the border. If anything had the power to
cheer Louise, it was the sight of ragged, nimble sheep on the crags, whose pinched northern faces were as familiar and welcome as a dear friend’s. She patted her pony’s neck. Only a few
miles more and they would be back in Scotland.

Under a stand of pines they pulled up to rest, knowing there was as much danger in the final few miles as on the long road they’d already taken. Mud-spattered and weary, the Edinburgh pair
were in a very different mood from the day they had set out. Then they had left with anxiety tempered by hope. Now, they were not only disheartened, but filled with dread.

As he unsaddled his horse, Gabriel shot an uneasy glance at Louise. For once she met his eye. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault, any of this.’ He
beckoned her, and after a moment’s hesitation she walked into his embrace. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said, whispering into her hair, ‘I’ve been too urgent with you. I
will do better.’ He kissed her gently, and let her go. ‘We will sort things out, never fear.’ Unfurling their bedrolls they slept side by side on the heathery turf. Gabriel
reached out for her hand, but Louise appeared already asleep, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. Crozier kept lookout. When the watch changed, he stretched out at a distance from the girl. He
did not want to see her disappointment when she woke and found him and not her courtier at her side.

Near the border they picked up a well-trodden drover’s road. Though the day was fading, they passed a pair of herring wives returning with empty creels, and a herdsman whipping his cattle
into line with a stick. The riders doffed their hats, but did not speak, nor were they questioned. Everyone was intent on getting off the hills before night. Not until they could see the river
Tweed did they see signs of trouble. Along the riverbanks soldiers were patrolling. Their shouts were faint, at this distance, and in the purple haze of an autumn dusk they looked harmless, almost
comical, boys at play with outsized toys. Gabriel looked at Crozier. ‘What now?’

‘We head westwards,’ he replied. ‘It’s a bit out of your way, but the safest road. We’ll be near Yetholm shortly, and there’s good cover as we come off the
hills there. There may be guards posted, but I doubt many. If we’re seen, we should be able to outride them.’

Some time later, they crept off the English hills and climbed into the oak-lined cleuchs of the Scottish Borderlands. Crozier smelled home in the bitter grasses and the peaty fires of the valley
hamlets and for the first time since they had left Durham, his spirits lightened.

It was not long before he drew to a halt. ‘This is where I leave you,’ he said. ‘Down there, by the village, is the road to Kelso, and Edinburgh beyond. It’s not a
difficult journey. If you are tired, of course, you can come back to the keep for a night’s rest.’

Louise shook her head. ‘I cannot,’ she said. ‘I must get to Leith as quickly as I can. We will sleep rough, if we sleep at all. But please tell Hob I will be back for him as
soon as things are sorted at home. I hope that won’t be long.’

Gabriel made a courtly salute. ‘I pray we meet again,’ he said. The Borderer wheeled his horse, speaking over his shoulder. ‘I wish you well with your brother, ma’am. If
there is anything I can do, just get a message to me. Otherwise I will see you again when you come back for the boy and your horse. We will give you a warmer welcome than on your first visit, I
promise.’

‘Thank you. Thank you for everything,’ she said, but he was gone, giving his horse its head for the homeward stretch. Knowing its stable was near, Louise’s pony tried to
follow, but she reined him in. The vixen too ran after him, barking, but when her mistress called, she turned back, her tail low as she padded beside her.