Gemini (97 page)

The Duke had quizzed Albany. ‘Who is Marchmont Herald?’

Even when told, he was not much the wiser. The man was called William Cumming, and had business in the north-east and Fife, and lodgings in Edinburgh. His alliances were with the rich merchant families: the Prestons, the Napiers, the Bertrams, the Meldrums, the Errols.

So. A royal herald, but not from the King, since the King was immured and this message had not come from the Castle. It could be anything. It was worth taking further. A message was sent back, agreeing, and the men who carried it were followed discreetly to Haddington. Watchers reported that the sender was indeed Marchmont Herald, and that he had immediately set out, with two grooms and an official companion. Someone with good local knowledge and better eyesight reported who the accompanying officer was.

Hearing, the Duke of Gloucester sent for Harry Northumberland. His face was dark. ‘The effrontery! They are proposing to send Nicholas de Fleury to parley!’ His voice sharpened. ‘Let him come. We shall send them our reply with his head.’

The Percies all had reddish-fair hair and tall brows, which wrinkled when they were perplexed. Northumberland said, ‘Certainly, my lord, de Fleury deserves to be killed. He has escaped punishment once. His arrival now would be an insult to England.’

‘But?’ the Duke said.

‘But, however tempting an execution might seem, it might be best to forgo it. I would advise that you refuse to receive him. If de Fleury came, Albany would be involved. And we cannot be sure what the Prince would find tolerable.’

The Duke looked at him. ‘We shall never be sure of Albany under any circumstances,’ he said. ‘As for de Fleury, I suspect that he is being sent as a warning. We are being invited to think again, since they know all our plans. This is a cynical message, sent not by the King, but by clever men.
We all have options
, they are saying.
You can pretend to leave. Albany can pretend to stay. As matters develop, you can continue to bluff, or find the money and men to do something quite different. So may we
. He fell silent, discontented.

‘You will let him come?’ Percy said.

‘I fear so. We do not have to appear overjoyed. But you are right. We do not harm him, or Albany cannot credibly play Trojan horse, if he has to.’

•  •  •

A
CCUSTOMED AS HE
was to the nervous protocol of the field, it did not alarm Marchmont Herald to be waylaid halfway through his journey by a group of silent, hard-riding men bearing a paper, sealed by Richard of Gloucester, which invited the herald and M. de Fleury to accompany them. Artlessly, de Fleury was mentioned by name. It was done discreetly, and they agreed without fuss, continuing south by the steep, broken cliffs in virtual silence. Sometimes, the herald wished de Fleury would speak. Then, eventually, he saw by the black smoke in the distance that they were close to the invading army.

It was obvious that the English wouldn’t spare Coldingham land, that was for sure. The Priory itself was a different matter. Big as a city, it was capable of housing royal retinues of many hundreds, and of defending itself with the contents of a formidable artillery store. Whatever Gloucester’s intentions, he wouldn’t waste effort and time on trying to take Coldingham Priory. He would destroy its assets instead, and place his men in the area, under canvas. Which he had done.

The audience tent, in this instance, was as lavishly equipped as that of James, but with a battered air, as if much on campaign. The Duke of Gloucester occupied a state chair, with Sandy Albany on another beside him. The rest of the captains stood on either side, watching. De Fleury, executing his reverence, made quite an impression. His grace of Albany’s face was a picture, even though (de Fleury had said) they would have been told to expect him. To be honest, it was all a bit heady; but it was up to a member of the Lyon Court to keep calm, and do his duty, and honour his profession, even though he was not representing the King.

They were offered seats. Folding stools. The Duke of Gloucester said that he trusted his magnanimity would be noted, to wit that he was receiving a man—he would not say a gentleman—who had come to York as a supposed friend, and had been exposed as a spy. The Duke of Albany said that he had appealed to his grace to throw out the turncoat, but had been overruled. The Duke of Albany added that he did not see the point of conferring with a dog who would serve any man for a shank.

Marchmont coughed. He remarked that he would not presume to discuss affairs of state with their highnesses, but that he was here, on the contrary, to arrange such a meeting, if their highnesses willed, with his lords.

Who were?

Who were the Primate of Scotland, William Scheves; Colin, Earl of Argyll; Andrew Stewart, first Lord Avandale, and James Livingstone, Bishop of Dunkeld. In other words, the inner council that once served the King, who was now removed from their reach and imprisoned.

Indeed. And these lords were willing to come to this camp? Or were inviting their highnesses, perhaps, to meet them in Edinburgh?

These lords were proposing a meeting, with hostages, at an agreed
place of neutrality, with equal forces in attendance on each side. The place was open to discussion. The time was to be in six days or less.

And the matters to be discussed?

Marchmont introduced Nicholas the Burgundian, who spoke.

T
HEY WERE NOT
answered at once. They were escorted out, after an hour, and were brought back after an uncomfortable spell in another tent, being plied with over-rich food in a parody of subservience. The second time, they were asked many more questions, always returning to the same point. Why was the English King’s brother expected to confer with mere ministers? Why was the King still in custody? Once these lords had set to and freed their own King, other Princes would listen. To which Marchmont and de Fleury in turn each gave the same patient answer. The King had been imprisoned by misguided rebels. He was immured in a castle which could withstand a long siege. To obtain a quick resolution, the lords were acting in the King’s name. Thereafter, however long it might take, the lords themselves would set siege to the Castle, and gave their word that the King would be freed.

No one liked this reply. The English command objected for a long time. But in the end, they agreed to the meeting.

R
IDING HOME, QUIVERING
with emotion, Marchmont rehearsed their triumph over and over.
‘They agreed!
Twenty thousand men, unopposed in enemy territory, with the King cut off from his army, his ministers, his Parliament, and the King’s brother and potential successor in their hands! And they agreed to stop attacking and parley!’

‘We were very persuasive,’ de Fleury said. He had always been a very jolly fellow up north, but had been disappointingly quiet on this trip. He was quite right, though, with that sardonic remark. After all, Gloucester had really been bound to agree. He was not in the strong position he seemed. He couldn’t stay long. He couldn’t get the King out. There were few short-term benefits to be had. If he wanted Albany as a puppet, he would be unwise to wreck the lands of his friends. If he was willing to be bribed, he shouldn’t offend the princes, ecclesiastical or mercantile, who might arrange it for him. He was vulnerable. The Scots were anxious. If they wanted a meeting, it was obvious that a bargain of some sort was in the wind. If they followed the mild double-talk of de Fleury, they could now at least guess at its nature. Provided his own safety was assured, and it was, Gloucester had nothing to lose.

Marchmont said, ‘You must have been glad not to be alone in the dark with poor Sandy. I think he’s going the same way as Mar. Anyway, you can present yourself in correct style another time. The Unicorn is a
valuable honour. I don’t like not wearing my tabard, myself. I shan’t be happy until the King is out of there, and we can follow proper practice again.’

It was good, then, to find de Fleury smiling suddenly, in the old companionable manner, and saying, ‘It won’t be long. We took the first step towards it today. Are you as thirsty as I am? There’s a tavern.’

Marchmont protested a trifle, for they ought to return as fast as they could. But he found the idea appealing, and he was pleased with what they’d done, and he was cheered, too, to find that he liked the man after all. Nicol. Nicol, he took to calling him. And the title. He should use the title, a clever man like that, bowing in the Burgundian style.

G
ELIS SAID
, ‘I expected you sooner. Drew Avandale received this peculiar message, urgently dispatched from an ale-house in Yester. The brewster who brought it swore he had been told to say just one word: Yes. Or Yesh, I gather it was.’

‘That’s why I was late,’ Nicholas said. ‘I had to tell Drew what Yesh meant.’

They were in their own house, in their own room and nearly in their own bed. It had been rather precipitate. She said, ‘Gloucester agreed? You’ve got what you wanted?’

‘Not yet,’ said Nicholas crossly.

‘From Gloucester.’ She couldn’t breathe. Her anxieties fled.

‘He wouldn’t have been any good,’ Nicholas explained. ‘He doesn’t have those little—’

‘The meeting?’ she said. But she was just teasing now, and was punished for it. At the indisputable end of the tournament, when all the turbulent contestants had left, he roused from a long, waking dream to ask something. ‘Where is Jordan? When can I see him?’

Jordan, the man of the future; not Jodi.

‘He’s with Robin in Adorne’s house,’ she said. ‘Waiting to see you.’

She had been anxious. When he reached to kiss her damp eyes without words, she knew he understood why. But although she waited, he didn’t bring his losses into the open; either then, or when they moved, later, downstairs.

The great wound, the deaths of Simon and Henry, was beyond touching at present; but she had expected, by now, to hear him speak of the others, about the friends who had been close to them all. Yet, although she was given a detailed account of the political consequences of Lauder, he didn’t mention Big Tam, or Whistle Willie, or Leithie. It was like dealing with the survivors of Nancy again, except that Nicholas was very different from Robin, and the murderers this time had been
from his own side. Hence there was not only grief, she suddenly saw, but boiling anger and shame. His friends had died, and he had not been there.

But he was saying nothing about it, as he had dismissed the fact that someone had betrayed him to Simon:
it isn’t important
. But, of course, it was.

She interrupted him then, without compunction. ‘Nicholas? Are you planning something? Are you planning to run down the men who perpetrated those hangings?’

He looked at her. His hands lay at random and loose, and you had to guess at the effort that kept them so. He said, ‘Why? Do you think they should escape?’

‘They may be dead already,’ she said. ‘The underlings, anyway. Tobie saw fallen men from both factions. As for their masters, they can wait. You’ll spoil everything if you hound them down right away.’

‘So I have been told,’ Nicholas said.

‘Who told you? What?’

‘That the principals will suffer for it in time, but not now, when their very guilt could be an asset. That Tam and Leithie’s families, of course, will be lavishly compensated for the delay.’

‘And you have agreed to hold back?’

‘Yes. It is my misfortune to live with the knowledge that I have neither defended them nor avenged them. It would be a greater misfortune if I put my own feelings first.’

‘But?’

‘But if the law does not deal with them later, then I shall. I think that would be allowed.’

‘Allowed by whom?’ she said again.

‘By ghosts, largely,’ Nicholas said. ‘Forget them. We all need to talk about what we have lost and, of course, between us, we shall. I’m only in temporary exile, quelling my impulses. I should like to know about the funerals. Can you tell me?’

She wished she could match him. She could only do her best. She said, ‘Yes, I can. Big Tam’s will be over. They took him to Renfrewshire, to the family church. Will is at Soutra. The Master and Edward Bonkle took him there. He always wanted to go back to Traquair and Yarrow. They will bury him there, and there will be a service at Trinity. Leithie has gone to the Prestons.’

She broke off, studying his face. He was resting propped in the window, a favourite seat. He said, ‘You are telling me that the Kilmirren funeral is over?’ His hands had shifted together, their crusted lesions now glazed and pink.

She said, ‘In fact, it isn’t. Monseigneur left for Kelso as soon as you’d
gone. He’s had the caskets brought back and set in the Abbey at Paisley. The funeral Mass will be held as soon as the English crisis is resolved. You said you didn’t want to attend.’

‘I said I wouldn’t attend,’ Nicholas said.

‘Still?’

‘Still.’

The ghosts, she deduced in silence, had had no opinion to proffer. No. It was Monseigneur who had proffered the opinion. She tried to show nothing. After a while she said, ‘Bel will be with him. Kathi is going, and Robin’s grandfather. Men, of course, from the Guard. Someone will arrange to take Wodman. Julius wants to go.’

‘Does he?’ Nicholas said.

She said, ‘He’s in Adorne’s house, with the rest. They’ve all moved from the Canongate meantime. Moriz talked to him about the fight you had. Andro as well. You know Julius. He understands you were sick; but wants to know why, if you really thought Simon your father, you kept trying to stop him from proving it.’

‘But he has stopped now,’ Nicholas said. ‘Hasn’t he?’

‘He’s been told to,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to Paisley. I’m staying here.’

He came over and knelt. He said, ‘Go if you want. You don’t have to be here. Wherever I am, you are with me.’

Out of the turmoil, an affirmation. Below death’s tattered wings, the glimpse of a marriage, still standing firm.

Thir men of craft suld kepe a gret lawté
,
Off fallowschipe and frendfulnes to be
,
Off countenans and word of suthfastnes
,
And keip thar promys boith to mor and les
.
Ta keipe frendschipe it semys weile thaim till
,
And fro discord set baith thar mynd and will
.
Frendschip and luf encressis aye the tovne
,
The commoun gud discord it puttis dovne
.
No thing in erd is swetar for till haif
Than is a frend in traist attour the laif
.
Bot for his frende the wys man neuer stud
Agane his aith or zit the commoun gud
.