The White Rose (18 page)

The two brothers were conducted in a cart to the macabre beat of a single drum. They were dressed simply in hose and open-necked shirts. The captain of the guard led them on to the scaffold, a scrawny-faced clerk gabbled out the sentence of the court. The younger man pressed forward, his hands tied behind his back. He looked grievingly at his elder brother who muttered something. The man became calmer, sank to his knees and allowed the executioner to bend him so his neck fitted over the block. Again the drum beat, the great axe swirling in the sunlight. There was a crunch, the hot spatter of blood and a deep sigh from the crowd. The eldest brother refused to have his hands tied but coolly watched as his brother's carcase was rolled away. He then knelt at the block like a priest before his prie dieu. He positioned his head, made a gesture with his hand, the axe swirled again, his body jerked, the head bounced on to the scaffold in a great spurt of scarlet. A guard kicked away a dog who tried to run under the scaffold to lick the dripping blood.

My master, pale-faced, his forehead covered with a sheen of sweat, groaned and turned away. Agrippa beckoned me to follow. A cook, sitting in the shade of a market stall, cackled with laughter and performed his own minor execution of a hapless chicken, slicing the neck and allowing the headless corpse to totter for a while before it collapsed in a heap of bloody feathers. My master hurried away to vomit in a corner. Agrippa waited for him to regain his composure.

'I told you,' he murmured, 'the blood letting by our King is just beginning. The Kingdom will be covered by dark pools of blood.'

Agrippa urged us on and we climbed the hill towards the main gates of the castle where the Red Lion Rampant banner of Scotland fluttered in the wind. A wild thought occurred to me and, for the first time, one of the threads in the mystery of Selkirk's poem began to unravel.

We crossed the lowered drawbridge and went under an arched entrance depicting the wonderfully carved scene of the Annunciation. A burly captain of the guard arranged for our horses to be stabled and immediately took us upstairs into what Agrippa called the Lion Chamber, a long, wooden-panelled room with black and white floor tiles which shimmered in the torch light. These were lozenge-shaped and I remembered them particularly because they were decorated with golden love knots. At the south end of the hall was a huge canopied fireplace and, above it, a blue and gold tapestry bearing the royal arms of Scotland. Beneath this was a large, oaken table and two high-backed chairs, also of oak, cushioned with cloth of gold and fringed with silver silk.

'The Scottish lords have made themselves at home,' Agrippa muttered.

The captain invited us brusquely to sit on a bench before the table and hurried out of a side door. We must have waited half an hour. A serving wench brought us flagons of watered beer. Both my master and myself took in our surroundings, whilst Agrippa, perched on the edge of the bench, hummed softly to himself, rocking to and fro like some cheerful sparrow.

At last the captain re-entered, accompanied by three soldiers. Behind them were two men. One was dressed in a dark blue jerkin and hose. He was an elegant fellow with steel-grey hair and bronzed face, his sensuous mouth fringed by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. His companion, swathed in a dark tawny robe as if he felt the cold, was a different kettle of fish: jet black hair framed a white face. He would have been handsome had it not been for the close-set eyes and the petulant cast to his mouth.

'My Lord d'Aubigny and Gavin Douglas, Earl of Angus!' Agrippa hissed as we rose to greet them.

I must say this openly: d'Aubigny I liked immediately, a gentleman born and bred, a true courtier like myself. All Angus did was pull his robe tighter around him and slump in one of the high-backed chairs to glower at us. D'Aubigny, however, came down from the dais and shook Agrippa's hand vigorously before allowing the doctor to introduce both my master and myself. He talked to us kindly, his grey eyes dancing with amusement as he questioned us about our journey. Had it been safe? What troubles had we encountered? His English was very good, though tinged with a pronounced French accent. I looked at him curiously for Master Benjamin and Doctor Agrippa had told me about him on our journey to the castle. He was a distant cousin to James IV but his father had been exiled to France so he had been reared and educated in the French fashion. D'Aubigny waved aside our letter of introduction and called for more refreshments before joining Angus on the other side of the table.

'Well, Master Daunbey,' d'Aubigny began, 'a representative of the English King is always welcome but doubly so when he is the nephew of the great Lord Cardinal.' He leaned forward with his hands clasped together on the table. 'So, Master Envoy, what messages do you bring?'

My master looked nervously at the Earl of Angus who had hardly moved except to gulp noisily from a goblet of wine. D'Aubigny himself acted as if Angus was scarcely there.

'Queen Margaret,' my master began bluntly, 'wishes to return to Scotland.'

D'Aubigny spread his hands. 'There is no obstacle,' he replied. 'The Queen is always welcome back. I have said this many times, Doctor Agrippa, have I not?'

The good doctor nodded his head vigorously. When I glanced sideways I noticed how his face had changed; the air of bonhomie and lazy good humour had disappeared. His eyes were hard now, glaring at d'Aubigny with the occasional sideways knowing glance at the sulky Angus.

'I repeat,' d'Aubigny continued, 'the Queen is welcome back. I will take an oath over a casket of the most sacred relics on this. I have explained to King Henry many times that his worthy sister left Scotland of her own accord -or, should I say, fled? We did not separate her from her children, but the Council cannot allow our infant King to wander where he will.'

D'Aubigny shifted in his seat. Perhaps he was disturbed by Agrippa's hard glance. He began to emphasise his points with one hand.

'The Lady Margaret was appointed Regent by no less a person than her late husband in his will. However, she infringed that mandate by marrying My Lord of Angus within a year of her husband's death!' D'Aubigny turned to his companion. 'My Lord, you would corroborate that?'

Angus slouched like a spoiled brat, nodded and began to tap noisily on the table top with his fingers. Again d'Aubigny repeated the question, this time a little more harshly.

'My Lord Douglas, you will corroborate that?'

This time d'Aubigny waited and would have done till the Second Coming. Angus stirred.

'Och, aye!' the fellow replied sourly. 'I will confirm that. Perhaps we were too hasty. The marriage brought neither of us happiness, especially when my lady wife insisted on hiding in one castle or the other so I could not follow her.' He smiled sardonically at Agrippa. 'You know the Douglas motto - "Better to hear the lark sing in the woods and fields than the mouse squeak in the corridors and chambers of the castle." '

'What My Lord Douglas is saying,' d'Aubigny said meaningfully, 'is that the Queen hid herself away, first in Stirling, then in other castles. There was an attempt,' he added, 'aided and abetted by other nobles, to rescue the Queen's children from the rightful custody of the Council. But this came to naught and so Queen Margaret slipped over the border into England.'

'Your Grace,' Agrippa interrupted harshly, 'a mother's place is with her children. In your custody her second babe, Alexander, Duke of Ross, died!'

'A Queen's rightful place,' d'Aubigny tartly replied, 'is in her kingdom with her children, one of whom, although still a bairn, is the appointed King.' D'Aubigny's eyes softened. 'C'est vrai, Alexander did die, but he was a sickly boy, born two months early. Anyway, I do not think we should discuss the young Duke of Ross, should we?'

I looked sideways. Do you know, the little bugger Agrippa actually blushed whilst Douglas lost his solemn look. Indeed, the fellow became agitated. I saw my master stiffen, those mild, blinking blue eyes had caught something, though God knows what. D'Aubigny sensed he had triumphed in this repartee and stood up, smiling kindly at us.

'You see, your mission is ended. Master Benjamin, Her Grace is most welcome back. Indeed, I could invite the Archangel Gabriel from Heaven - but it would be up to him whether he came or not!'

My master rose and bowed.

'Your Grace, I thank you for your time.'

'Tush, man,' d'Aubigny replied, 'it was nothing. In the morning we will meet again.' He looked at Angus and his smile faded. 'This time alone.'

I tried to question my master on what he had learnt from d'Aubigny, once we were shown up to our chamber, but Master Benjamin was in one of his more withdrawn moods. He wandered off then came back to lie on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Now and again he would glance at me.

'There is a mystery here,' is all he would murmur. When I looked again, he had fallen fast asleep. Thankfully, the good Doctor Agrippa did not share our chamber. I padded round the room and quietly filched any precious object there: a small set of silver candlesticks, two finely chased pewter goblets and a cunningly wrought steel crucifix which hung on the wall. Satisfied with the day's proceedings, I went to bed and slept like a child until awoken, long after dawn, by my master. He smilingly proffered me a cup of watered wine in one of the goblets I had hidden away the previous evening. I gazed quickly around the room and sighed bitterly. Benjamin had replaced everything. As usual, he paid no thought to the future and the prospect of where our next mouthful of bread might come from. He went across and began washing himself at the lavarium.

'Come, come, Roger!' he said in reply to my glare. 'We cannot take from our hosts. D'Aubigny is the perfect gentle knight. We have enough silver. Remember the scripture - "Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." '

I felt tempted to tell him that I had begun to glimpse some of the mystery behind Selkirk's verses but my anger kept me silent.

Benjamin smiled at me. 'I think,' he continued as if he could read my thoughts, 'logic has shown me a way to solve the murders of Selkirk and Ruthven.'

I started up. 'And Irvine?'

Benjamin shook his head. 'No, but Catesby must be innocent of that at least. Last night, I went to see the Constable: Catesby and his manservant arrived here on the morning of October the ninth. In no manner could they have delayed to ambush poor Irvine.'

'And the other deaths?' I asked crossly.

Benjamin put his fingers to his
lips
. 'Not now,' he replied, 'as yet I detect only faint glimmerings.' He sighed. 'As I said, "sufficient for the day . . .".'

I felt like murmuring the verses about Judas going out and hanging himself, and that he should go and do likewise, but Benjamin looked so quietly pleased with himself that I bit my tongue. I threw some of the water from the bowl over my own face and drank the rest for I was thirsty, then followed him down to the Great Hall. Thankfully, Doctor Agrippa had made himself scarce, realising that d'Aubigny's invitation did not extend to him. He was probably closeted with that sullen turd, Angus. Good riddance, I thought. A steward wearing d'Aubigny's livery, blue with silver fleur de lys, announced His Lordship was waiting for us outside. I thought the fellow meant the bailey but he took us out into a garden which ran down towards a small river. The Scottish envoy was waiting for us, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, talking to one of his clerks who tactfully withdrew as we approached. D'Aubigny was dressed simply in a dark brown tunic like a forester and I gathered he was about to go hunting. He seemed vulnerable but then I heard the chink of armour and, looking carefully through the trees which swept up from the river, caught a glimpse of colour and steel and knew that help, if he needed it, was never far away. Nottingham Castle may have been put at his disposal but d'Aubigny did not trust our Henry. A wise man!

D'Aubigny rose, greeted us civilly and indicated we should sit with him. He looked round, first towards the trees where his bodyguards were grouped and then, tilting his head back, listened carefully. There were no sounds except the soft cooing of wood pigeons, the gurgle of the water and the strident cry of the snow white peacocks rising above the castle walls. He came swiftly to the point. Opening a small casket, he took out copies of letters sent by Queen Margaret in the year following her husband's death. If they had come from any other man or woman in the kingdom of Scotland, they would have been considered treasonable; writing to her brother Henry, Margaret made constant pleas for the English to send troops into Scotland to restore her as Regent and crush any opposition to her and the Earl of Angus. Henry's replies were equally blunt; he offered help but said it would take time and, if matters should prove too difficult, she was to return immediately to England. My master read these through carefully like a clerk marking up a ledger.

'Why are you showing me these documents?' he asked when he had finished reading them and passed them to me.

D'Aubigny shrugged. 'I am tired of Queen Margaret's constant stream of invective. We did not drive her from Scotland, and her infant son died because he was born too early - her eldest boy is hale and hearty. Queen Margaret is most welcome to return but she must not bring an army of twenty thousand English "advisers" with her. Scotland is an independent sovereign nation. Queen Margaret's brother, the great Harry himself, has no authority there.' He bit his lip. 'We begged the Queen to return. Even when she crossed the border and stayed at Hexham, messengers carried importunate pleas to her, all of which were ignored.' He signed. 'You may wonder why Queen Margaret does not return.' He blew out his cheeks in exasperation. 'The Council and I are continually speculating on that.' He pointed to the letters. 'Perhaps she knew we had proof of her treachery, but there is no need for her to fear our vengeance.' He screwed up his eyes and stared into the middle distance. 'No, there is something else . . .Why will she not return? What is she so frightened of?'