Gemini (51 page)

The Chancellor’s square jaw was set. ‘We should have arrested him.’

Adorne said, ‘With respect, my lord. We did discuss it. An arrest without proper evidence would double his followers, and turn a disagreement over state policy into something much worse. All we could do is allow de Fleury, as he asked, to go with him. Liddell will follow. If they cannot restrain him, de Fleury can send for help when it’s clear that the Duke is transgressing.’

‘But some damage will have been done. I am not happy. First Mar, and now this. Well, we foresaw it. With your help we have contained it, a little. We can do nothing until we have word. Let us go in to the Abbot. We must not lose our heavenly credit as well.’

N
ICHOLAS DE FLEURY
, immured with his charge on the English border at Upsettlington, had by this time no heavenly credit left, unless his state of mind was proof against angels.

Riding like a maniac, he had overtaken Sandy at Duns, to be greeted with amusement mixed with triumph. ‘We thought we’d see you before long, didn’t we, gentlemen? And I expect you’ve left messages for Jamie as well. So how did the Three Estates fare? Agreed to everything, did they? If England wants Meg, then they get her, and everyone pays through the nose, because it’s good for business. That’s all it is, isn’t it? A pact that’s good for business?’

It wasn’t Blind Harry sitting in the corner this time, it actually was Dick Holland, long since come down from the north, and an embarrassment to John Colquhoun, who had married into Dick’s poems, as it were, at a time when it was not a good idea—
O Dowglass, O Dowglass, Tender and Trewe!
—to praise some kinds of Douglases. Sandy, of course, was not concerned about that. He said, ‘All right. Let us have the lecture and get it over with. I’m going raiding into England, no matter what you say.’

‘I wasn’t going to say anything. Where are you mustering?’

It was Upsettlington, of course. The convenient Border land with its church on the Tweed, just east of Coldstream, and next to the Norham ford. Nicholas said, ‘Then can I go with you?’

Sandy could never see anything coming. He agreed, surprised, relieved and touchingly pleased, and told Jamie Liddell at once, as soon as he burst in. Before Jamie had time to react, Nicholas said, ‘We’ll all go. With this number of men, we can attack ten different places and be back before anyone stops us. What do you want? Cattle? You’d have them
taken off you when you get back. Just to make a few townships sit up, before the other Wardens get there? Then let’s plan it.’

‘I thought you were on their side,’ said Sandy.

If you want to convince, keep as close to the truth as you can. ‘I am,’ Nicholas said. ‘But if you want to do this, no one can stop you. I’m just here to help you do it in the way that will cause you least harm.’

‘Never mind that,’ Sandy said. ‘I can look after myself.’

It should have warned him. It didn’t. He had to pull Jamie round to his way of thinking and then, encamped at Upsettlington, to go and plant a word in the shrewd ear of Will Bell, the Rector, who had the triple advantage of being a priest, a notary and a friend of the Abbot of Holyrood. After that, Nicholas wandered round, talking to all the hearty Borderers who had ridden in with their men, ready to wipe their English counterparts off the map. They didn’t need Blind Harry: they were going to out-Wallace Wallace on an elixir of personal euphoria.

They liked the idea of co-ordinated attacks in different directions. It was agreed that it couldn’t be done without central control. It was further agreed that they didn’t want the King’s men on their tails, once all the local sycophants got wind of what was happening, and that there should be someone in authority to stop them. It was finally accepted, by Sandy, that the central control at Upsettlington should be himself.

It was different, clearly, from his original dream of heading a young army into England, hacking and burning in freedom’s great name. On the other hand, if you knew Sandy, you could tell that shreds of normal thinking were already beginning to creep in. If he did that, he risked losing everything, including possibly his life.

Small attacks were less contentious, but also less stirring. He didn’t fancy leading a hundred to burn some boats and mills and destroy a few barns. Staying at Upsettlington and outfacing the governesses when they arrived was not unattractive. Provided, of course, that Jamie led the band they had personally brought. And that Nicol, as promised, led another.

It was a Lumsden he rode with: a jolly man he had met before, who didn’t frankly care who ruled what as long as he could batter his neighbours when he felt like it. As, of course, they battered him. He could see, and was patient with the high-flown arguments over it all, which Nicholas didn’t try to revive. Nicholas merely pointed out, from time to time, that theft was actually better than burning, and they might even get away with it, if they kept off whole herds, but took a horse or two here and there, and some nags that could carry bales of wheat, or malt, or a few kitchen utensils. If the English complained, it was even possible the King would settle up first himself. He had tried to instil the same idea into the other groups, and he thought Liddell saw the point. A lot of dead men, or raped women, or—God forfend—deceased royal or semi-royal
noblemen would cause more trouble than even Sandy had wanted. It would be nice if it rained, really hard.

Someone heard, for it rained. It was not the most joyous late winter’s day that Nicholas had ever spent but, returning cold and mud-coated and saddle-sore with his bedraggled company, he thought it might have been worse. They were all alive. He carried a few hacks and slashes, as they all did: there had been some fighting, both on horse and off, but nothing too desperate. As soon as they splashed over the ford, Lumsden waved and set off, his men floundering behind with the booty. The banks of the Tweed would be littered for miles. Fortunately, it was not yet in spate. He waited a bit, until his own men returned with the news that Liddell was back, and most of the rest seemed to be over except for the Douglases, who could take care of themselves.

Also, of course, that a troop from Berwick Castle had arrived with instructions to take the ringleaders back under escort. Including Alexander, Duke of Albany, Earl of March, lord of Annandale, lord of Man, with his odd little device of the three booted, spurred feet going nowhere. Albany, Liddell and himself. Except that they were going somewhere, all of them, that was for certain.

It turned out to be Edinburgh Castle. Sandy was locked into his own rooms, tired but happy; Liddell and Nicholas were put in the spare chart-room, which was at the top of David’s Tower. Marching up from the gate in the darkness, they had passed Henry, who turned his head, against orders. He looked amazed.

Jamie wanted to talk, and Nicholas let him. After a bit, someone brought in washing-water and strips of fresh cloth for their cuts: Nicholas recognised the servant. Later, Liddell was sent for. After that, it was not too long before the door opened and Colin Campbell came in.

‘Ochone, ochone,’
said Nicholas sourly.

‘No. You did very well. Liddell says you don’t need a doctor.’

‘For my head, perhaps. So what is happening?’

Argyll sat down, a shade less spryly than usual. Nicholas could imagine what it had been like, steering the King and the others. Ordinary fighting was easier. The Controller said, ‘The consensus is that England will take the chance to make threats, now they need us much less. James will meet that by disowning all Sandy has done, and announcing that he is now in prison for his failings as Warden. The recriminations will occupy a few weeks if not months, during which time no one would dream of asking the lady Margaret to pass down to England, which removes that immediate bone of contention.’

‘We all did you a service,’ Nicholas said. ‘Yes, yes, I know. I do understand. My lord.’

‘Well, who better,’ Argyll said. ‘You, of course, were never over the Border. The King thinks you rode south to dissuade Sandy; you and Liddell
are here to be questioned, after which you will be released. Sandy will stay until we know the damage that’s in it, and can see what best to do. Why is he cheerful?’

‘Because he’s won,’ Nicholas said. ‘He did what he was forbidden to do, and showed his disagreement with the English peace policy, and quite a lot of March lords agreed to ride with him, at that. I’ll give you a list of their names. No surprises. He’ll be a lot less cheerful as the weeks go by.’

Argyll said, ‘I’ve asked Bishop Spens to come and talk to him. ’Tis known to me that he’s seen as the universal peace-maker, whateffer, but he and Sandy came through that business in England together, and he knows how Sandy thinks. If Sandy would agree to keep quiet, he could disappear into Annandale for a few weeks while this is all sorted out. So long as the English think he’s in prison, that’s all that matters.’

‘But that’s all that matters to Sandy as well,’ Nicholas said. ‘He expects a rap over the knuckles and freedom. If he doesn’t get that, he’s going to be the noisiest martyr we have all ever known.’

‘
Faire, faire!
I wish I didn’t believe you were right,’ Argyll said.

He left. Liddell came back, followed by a supply of superior plenishments, including writing materials and books. Food arrived, wrapped in cloths, which was rather more satisfying than the Castle’s usual provender and came, Nicholas suspected, from the Argyll tavern.

Bishop Spens arrived, wiping his face. ‘Man! He’s a thrawn devil, young Sandy!’

Liddell got him a seat. ‘My lord, it’s not from lack of principles, or respect. He’s acting as his conscience directs.’

‘Aye. I ken,’ said Bishop Spens. ‘Rogues are easy. Ye can aye sink your teeth in a rogue, but a principled man can be poison. Which reminds me. All yon at Craigmillar is safely over? Cortachy came away without blame, like the rest of ye? That’s a good man. I’ve said before, someone should try to keep him in Scotland. He could earn his keep. He’s got my Linlithgow franchise, and welcome. And I’ve nine and twenty prebendaries floating about in the north that could offer a position for one or two sons, when the time came. Tell him that.’

‘I shall,’ Nicholas said. ‘Although I don’t think Lord Cortachy feels he can make plans just yet.’ Spens knew that. The previous year, the Duchess of Burgundy had had a son, Philip, delivered with promptitude the summer after her wedding, but her husband had still produced no decisive victory against the French, nor a new form of combined rule for Flanders in Burgundy.

Spens rubbed his big-nosed, high-coloured face. Rising seventy, Bishop of Aberdeen but tied to Edinburgh by his skills as a judge, Thomas Spens was a former protonotary at Rome, a lord of Council, an auditor, a broker of truces and marriages who had, in his time, asked for and received a papal bull which exempted his bishopric alone from the
superior rule of St Andrews. He got on well with Will Scheves. He simply liked to go his own way, and had earned the right to do it. Now he said, ‘Oh, it’ll open out some time, if only we exercise patience. I’ve every sympathy with Sandy Albany. He’s proud of his country, and so am I. How did he take it, the stramash at Craigmillar? The Prestons had a lot to say, I’ll be bound.’

Again. Liddell was up, pouring wine. Nicholas said, ‘They’re a formidable crew.’

‘Aye,’ Bishop Spens said. ‘Yon John, he made a good marriage. Ah! A cup of Bordeaux! Jamie, your very good health, and may this all be settled by Christmas.’

It was March. Liddell laughed, and so did Nicholas, and presently Bishop Spens left, and it was soon time for bed. In the darkness, Nicholas lay thinking. John Preston. Who was his wife? Then he remembered.

G
ELIS SAID
, ‘N
ICHOLAS
is still at the Castle: they want him to keep Albany happy, and Liddell under his eye. Or that’s my guess. Anyway, you’re to go up and see him.’

‘Why?’ said John le Grant. He had always got on well with Gelis van Borselen, ever since she came to the battlefield at Nancy three years ago, and especially since she got himself and Tobie and Robin into Bruges that God-awful night. In fact, his life had turned round since then. He had replaced Astorre and his company with another: with young Kathi and Robin; with Tobie and Clémence; with Adorne and Sersanders and Berecrofts, and best of all with the sea, and all the friends he had made there. He spent most of his time in Leith. He was best pleased, although he would not admit it, when Gelis and Nicholas were at the Leith house, working with him. The news of Sandy’s crass raid, and Nicholas’s even crasser involvement had roused him to fury: he had fulminated round Robin’s chair until even Kathi grew dizzy and told him to stop. And Nicholas wanted to see him.

‘Why?’

‘He’s dying, perhaps? Or he thinks I’m pining, and wants to send me a token of undying love? Or he just wants some fresh shirts. How would I know?’ asked Gelis. She sounded as caustic as ever, but looked edgy.

John said, ‘It’s all right. Give me something of Jodi’s. That’ll cheer him up.’

A
T THE
C
ASTLE
, Nicholas wasn’t locked in, but there was a guard outside the door, half asleep. Inside, Liddell and Nicholas were gambling with the brat, young St Pol. Nicholas said in a welcoming way, ‘John. Did you bring any money?’

‘Some,’ said John cautiously. Liddell, a big, good-looking man, looked worn but reasonably cheerful; Nicholas looked bland. The brat, vivid and bright-eyed, looked triumphant.

‘He’s winning,’ said Nicholas, indicating St Pol with a nod. ‘But that won’t last long. Go on, then. Sit down. We need a fourth.’

John said, ‘Gelis thought you wanted some shirts washed.’

Nicholas looked surprised. He said, ‘Well, I could send her some, but they do them very well here. Little thistle stitched in the corner, and a crown on the tail. Is that all the money you have?’