Gemini (100 page)

After the Queen had retired, they sat drinking with Sandy that night, while Nicol treated them, by request, to a number of excruciating tales from his repertoire, followed in due course by Colin, who had a barbed, sleek wit of his own, in both Gaelic and English. Heavy with relief and contentment, Sandy seemed willing to stay there till dawn, and when his servant finally took him away, he was calling for Nicol to go with him, but unsuccessfully, for Nicol had fallen asleep.

When the door shut, he woke up. ‘Well done,’ said Avandale. ‘Well done, everybody.’

A tolerant man, Will Scheves smiled. ‘Especially the Queen,’ he remarked. Grimly, as the Great Margaret would have done, the Queen had made her personal contribution to the effort of pleasing the siblings. It meant losing some land, and she had required a little persuasion; but they had laid the matter before her, and she had agreed after a number of talks, some of them with de Fleury in private. Henry Arnot and Adorne had been right: she had taken to Nicholas de Fleury, and so had the young prince. Because of the Queen, they had been able to promise Darnley a fee for what he was doing, as well as immunity. Because of Will Scheves, they had an inducement to offer the King’s uncles. To the public, Edinburgh Castle was sealed, with the monarch inside, but of course there had been constant secret communication between those who occupied it and those who were holding the kingdom together outside. As soon as he, Avandale, got back to Edinburgh, he and the King’s uncles would meet, and the King’s freedom would be arranged.

It would take just over a month. Beginning immediately, the Castle would be placed under siege by the Provost and leading merchants of Edinburgh in the name of Albany, who had spurned England to seek the love of his brother. And during the month, someone had to persuade the King that he was in no danger from Albany. He trusted the merchants. He was already unsure of the motives of his half-uncles and Darnley. When, in due course, the uncles would (tragically) be driven to surrender, James should be reasonably glad to emerge. It might be, by that time, that someone like Darnley could explain what was happening.
This is the price of Gloucester’s retreat. Pay it, for now
.

Or possibly, of course, pay it for ever. Albany’s first condition for returning to court had been the prior departure of Argyll, Scheves and Avandale himself, ‘who had so nobly held the breach, but who must now be allowed to return to the peace of their estates’. Albany did not wish the King’s veteran Councillors, the men who had known him as a boy, breathing over his shoulder. They were being permitted to install him, that was all.

They had agreed. It had been foreseen. It was why they had left Whitelaw behind. They were all leaving for Edinburgh in the quiet of the evening tomorrow. As soon as they had conferred with the uncles, Will and Colin and he would disperse. Not too far, naturally. God knew, they would still require to confer and to meet. But of the old inner Council only Archie Whitelaw would remain, and James of Dunkeld to watch out for the Church, and Nicol de Fleury to watch out for everyone. If Albany was Gloucester’s Trojan horse, then de Fleury was theirs.

Colin’s mind, obviously, had been running along the same lines. Stirring, flushed, in his shirt-sleeves, Argyll said, ‘Niacal,
fhir mo chridhe, fhir
mo chridhe
, do not in any way get yourself killed this day or another, will you then? Your country needs you.’

The Queen’s friend was still flat on the floor, but not asleep. ‘Which country?’ said Nicholas de Fleury.

Colin Argyll unfolded, quick as a polecat. He said, ‘The one you are fit for, to be sure. Go where you please.
Foghnaidh salann salach air im roineagach
.’

They were glaring at one another. It must have been quite an insult. Avandale sighed, but not audibly. He said, ‘MacChalein has had a few bottles, Nicol.’

‘I know,’ said de Fleury. ‘Otherwise he would never have invited me to his bed.’

‘Will you accept?’ Avandale said. He was entertained. Colin’s fair face was purple.

‘Why yes!’ Nicholas said. ‘I don’t mind a bit of
roineachd
.’ But before he finished the word, Colin was on him, and they fought with some intensity, for a bit, until they fell apart, satisfied.

T
HE FUNERAL AT
Paisley Abbey was unlike that of Lord Hamilton, and when it was over, children did not compete in dangerous races with sledges. Of such a pair, one had now come to his grave, and the other, tall and grey-eyed and solemn, had today been cursed by the dead youth’s grandfather and told to get out of the church:
‘They brought you here to gloat!’
But young Jordan had stood without moving, and so had Gelis his mother behind him, while the Abbot hastened forward with others of sense and compassion: Robin’s grandfather; neighbour Semple of Elliotstoun; the lord of Torphichen; the young men of the Guard who had come to carry Henry’s coffin. In the end Andro Wodman, helped by his stick, had taken the fat man by the arm and turned him away, while Bel went first to Jordan, and then to Kilmirren.

Julius, standing by Kathi, had wanted to help, but she had kept him back, to stay beside Gelis. Since Nicholas wasn’t here, Gelis should be supported. Kathi had also brought her own daughter Margaret, but not for Gelis’s sake. Young as she was, Margaret was a stout friend to Jordan, even though he had left their house now, to prepare for his higher studies elsewhere. Once he had gone, Margaret would miss him, Kathi knew.

The ceremony ended. Afterwards, no one wished to stay there for long. The neighbours and the men of the Guard were offered hospitality, as was proper, but Kathi made her excuses and left, and Julius left with her. Gelis and Jordan had already departed to spend the night with Tam Cochrane’s kinsmen, and she had allowed Margaret to go with them. Kathi wondered how sorely Gelis was remembering her last visit to Beltrees, when Robin had been the bait, and David Simpson had died in Nicholas’s place. Someone still wanted to kill Nicholas, and had caused the tragedy they were mourning today. But if today had been perceived
by anyone as a lure, it had failed, for Nicholas wasn’t here. It struck Kathi to wonder whether Gelis had come in part for that reason: to observe anything or anyone out of the way. But what brought her of course was more than that. Henry had been her sister’s son, and her sister had been married to Simon.

Bel of Cuthilgurdy had also left. She had wept at the funeral: something rare for that small, composed woman; and when Kathi had gone to speak to her, she discovered that Bel was not returning to Kilmirren. It did not surprise her. After three weeks as the self-appointed mainstay of that obese, stricken, bitter old man, she was exhausted. Now that Andro was here for Monseigneur, she said, she felt free to go back to her home. Stirling was a short ride away: she would sleep in her own bed tonight.

Kathi, returning to her other children and Robin in Edinburgh, had been more than ready to alter her journey and come with Bel instead, but Bel, after hesitating, had refused. Then, Kathi didn’t try to insist. But when Julius set out with her presently, and they came across Bel’s small cavalcade on the road, Julius asserted himself. Of course Bel should not return home alone. He and Kathi had to spend the night somewhere. They would diverge to Stirling, and travel to Edinburgh tomorrow. If Bel didn’t want him, he would stay at Cambuskenneth, with Abbot Henry.

Julius, when he liked, could be irresistible. Bel agreed, even knowing, Kathi supposed, the inquisition she might be inviting. But, in fact, it did not come. It was a thirty-mile journey, and they were weary. It was more than that. Although she had watched Julius and his insatiable curiosity at work, even here, Kathi knew he realised now that it was fruitless to try and legitimise Nicholas. She had learned of St Pol’s explicit denial from her own kitchen:
You made the old man so wild he bloody disowned me
. Since then, she had thought of Julius more kindly. However wrong-headed he might be, he had tried to help Nicholas, over and over. For all they kept quarrelling, he must be the oldest friend Nicholas had. And his greatest pleasure, still, was the excitement he found wherever Nicholas was.

They were within sight of the Burgh Port of Stirling after a hot, tiresome journey when, without warning, their way was blocked by a group of dark horsemen. The men who stopped them were faceless: they wore expensive weapons and armour but carried no emblems. Their own men, of course, were also armed: Julius, never backward, was already offering battle to the opposite captain, who neither answered nor shifted. At the same time, Kathi noticed, there had issued from the Burgh Port in the distance a troop of well-guarded horsemen, riding sedately. They, too, bore no distinguishing marks, and their cloaks hid the quality of their dress. As the gates closed behind them, they began to string out, moving more quickly. Of them all, only one glanced across.

Julius had seen him as well. He called out in surprise, turning aside so that one of their captors, thinking him about to escape, leaned across and seized his reins roughly. The mysterious cavalcade continued regardless. Then the man Kathi had already noticed leaned over, speaking to someone, and the next moment detached himself and trotted over. The captain threw down Julius’s reins and went to meet him. They spoke. A moment later, the soldiers detaining them saluted and went, following their fellows along the Edinburgh road. They were free.

Their rescuer approached, and pushed back his hood.

‘Nicholas?’
Julius said.

It was, of course. He was wearing his stand-by expression: one of tranquil authority. ‘Kathi? Mistress Bel? I’m sorry. They were under orders to hold everyone back. Let me take you into the town. You’re going home?’

‘We’ve come from Paisley,’ said Bel. ‘Do you have to follow your friends, or can you spare us a night? You’d be welcome.’

‘I hoped you’d ask me,’ he said. His face, the versatile face, had given way, for a moment, to something he hadn’t controlled; and you could see the same attrition, for a moment, in Bel.

Julius said, ‘You look terrible. You’ve spent the night drinking, you dog. What was all that about?’

Julius. What could you do with him?

O
FTEN, IN HER
dealings with Bel, Kathi had felt herself under scrutiny, and had realised very soon that this applied to any person of either sex who was connected with Nicholas. She believed she had passed the invisible test, whatever it was, and found proof, if it were needed, during the night and morning they all passed in Bel’s house in Stirling. They had come to support Bel, but the situation was made bearable, in the end, by the presence of Julius, whose few observations on the funeral were entirely prosaic, and who preferred to talk about other things. For him, Nicholas outlined, on promise of secrecy, what had clearly been a momentous meeting between the Queen and the Duke of Albany; and watching Bel’s absorbed face, Kathi was relieved that she, at least, had received a respite from the burdens of the day.

Bel had a well-ordered house, trained to deal with any contingency. Julius, content in mind and in body, lingered at table, and left it deep in strenuous argument. ‘Why not simply kill Albany?’

Nicholas, sharing a settle with Kathi, had treated it seriously. ‘The purely practical reasons against? Because the King doesn’t want it; and, at the moment, couldn’t be blamed for it anyway. Because it would consolidate the faction that already exists behind Albany and his two sisters, who might well invite England to come back, get rid of the King, seize
the Prince’s guardianship from the Queen and rule in his name, probably through the half-uncles, throughout young James’s entire minority.’

‘And the less than practical reasons?’ Bel said. She had eaten nothing.

‘Because we promised him—I promised him—that we wouldn’t.’

‘He’s an idiot,’ Julius said. ‘So why not kill the King, or free him on condition he abdicates?’

‘Same reason,’ Nicholas said. ‘Civil war, bloodshed, with the weaker party bringing back England. As it is, we’ve got peace; the King ruling with Albany’s help, and a council of sorts to advise them, even if it isn’t as strong as the original one. And the Prince is still safe, in the Queen’s custody.’

‘And you’ll be at his side,’ Julius said. He had said that before. His slanting eyes gleamed with satisfaction and mischief.

Nicholas said, ‘No. You’ll be at his side. If he’s daft, he needs someone about him who’s dafter.’

Julius swung a desultory punch and Nicholas answered it, mildly. The marks of excess (Julius had been right) had receded, and Nicholas had behaved, once in Stirling, as if this were a day like any other. Indeed, he had made only one untoward reference in Kathi’s hearing, and that had been a question to Bel. He had said, ‘How is he?’

He hadn’t mentioned a name. Bel, round and taut as a tabour, had answered immediately. ‘Vindictive. Otherwise he wouldn’t have survived any of it. He pitched into the boy, into your son, in the Abbey. Gelis will tell you. Like he pitched into you, Julius tells me, in his house. You may not have enjoyed it, but it was a God’s blessing to him.’

‘I am glad to have been of service,’ Nicholas said.

Then Julius came along, and the subject was dropped. But it was the only reference. And it pertained to Fat Father Jordan.

Tobie had talked about the odd, tenuous relationship between Nicholas and Bel. Tobie had found out quite a lot about Bel, and believed that Nicholas knew at least as much. Tobie had investigated the young woman at Chouzy in France, whom Tobie and Robin had once met, and whose
nom de fille
was Claude d’Échaut, or Shaw. She was Bel’s daughter. There seemed no doubt about that; or that her father, also called Shaw, must have been Bel’s second husband, or lover. And then you had to remember that the wife of Fat Father Jordan, and the mother of Simon and Lucia, had been called Aleis Shaw.