Part 2 (2/2)

”All right,” said the boy. ”You've chosen a life of vice, and have been consistent and reliable and thorough and successful in carrying it out..

Lymond considered this with every appearance of seriousness. ”I see. Thus the baseness of my morals is redeemed by the stature of my manners? You admire consistency?.

”Yes, I do..

”But prefer consistency in evil to consistency in good?.

”The choice is hypothetical..

”Lord; is it? What an exciting past you must have..

”I despise mediocrity,” stated the young man firmly.

”And you would also despise me if I practiced evil but professed purity?.

”Yes. I should..

”I see. What you are really saying, of course, is that you dislike hypocrisy, and people who can't stand by their principles. I find it so helpful,” continued Lymond, ”when some of my gentlemen have welldefined codes of conduct. It makes them more predictable. What security have I got for your loyalty?.

Redhead chanced his arm, solemnly. ”Your appraisal of me, sir..

”Touching; but I'd prefer your appraisal of yourself. Do your principles admit an oath of fealty?.

”If you want it. I won't betray you, any of you; you can have my word on that. And I'll do anything you want, within reason. I don't mind,” said Redhead recklessly, ”what crimes I commit, as long as they've got a sensible purpose. Wanton injury and destruction, of course, are just juvenile..

”Of course,” said the Master, digesting this remarkable statement. ”Then let us be adult at all costs. Do you have a mistress? A wife? No? All, all in vain, this flors de biaut~? A little quietness, if you please. We are all ready to help, you see. What else . . . Do you use broadsword or rapier? A hackbut?.

Smoothly spinning, the inexorable questions resumed, faster and faster. ”What do you know about gunpowder? Not very much, is it? How old are you? Year of birth? If you must invent, stay awake afterwards. . . . What are you like with the longbow? There's Mat's quiver: hit that tree. Pa.s.sable. Now the thorn. Good. Now,” said Lymond, ”kill the man by the cooking-pot..

Exhausted, deflated and angry, the boy directed one haughty grimace at the Master, hauled on the bowstring and sent the shot of a lifetime buzzing for the mark.

A great cheer, part shocked, part sardonic, arose. There was a blur of movement. Mat disappeared, and a swarm of curious bodies shut off the view of the target. Redhead knew, if he had never shot straight before, that he had put an arrow through blood and bone this time. He stood still.

A gentle voice rebuked him.

”Careful, careful! my slave of sin. These are Sordidi Dei. How nice,” said Lymond, ”to have simple emotions. No trouble with principles; no independence of thought; no resistance to suggestion; no nonsense about adult behaviour when it comes to one's own amour propre..

The skin around the boy's mouth was taut. ”I'm not immune to trickery. And the Sordid G.o.ds in this case are yours, I think; not mine..

no: not mine; I am G.o.dless,” said Lymond. ”Not for me to solve the enigma.

”When a hatterWill go smatterIn a philosophyOr a pedlarWax a medlarIn theology”There is the waste of purpose. Whereas I always have a purpose- you were wiser than you knew, and less successful than you feared. Oyster Charlie has been giving me a little trouble. But if his wits are moribund, his hearing is sensational-a matter of compensation, I suppose. Well, Mat?.

Turkey Mat shook himself free of the crowd, grinning. ”Just a shower of blisters,” he said. ”He dodged behind the pot and got a spray of chicken bree for his pains. He's laying low now, is Oyster. He kens as well as you what that was for..

”Excellent. The warning c.o.c.k and the Devil's bath,” said Lymond, amused. ”Symbolism is coming cheap today..

”You mean I didn't kill him?.

”No. Thus even your remorse of conscience is rooted in hallucination. Oyster is not dead; merely lightly boiled in the sh.e.l.l. I hope you will both perceive the point of the experiment..

Lymond surveyed the grinning audience with an air of gentle discovery. ”Is there no work to be done? Or perhaps it's a holiday?.

In a moment, the spectators had vanished. Left facing the three men, the boy stood straight and with some natural dignity, although silent. Indeed, there seemed little to say. The Master evidently thought the same. He smiled warmly. ”A pleasant entertainment. Thank you. Have you thought of doing it for money? No? You should. It would go down very well on fair days in Hawick. . . . Take the young gentleman's boots off, Mat, and loose him on the hills somewhere. Preferably not within ten miles of me..

The young gentleman turned scarlet. Of course. Having made the bear dance, turn it to the dogs. And to that, youth and hurt pride had only one answer. ”You're welcome to try,” said Redhead, and lunged.

Lymond got hold of the upraised arm halfway to his face. He s.h.i.+fted his grip, twisted, and holding the limb on the edge of agony, smiled.

”Softly, softly! Remember your superior upbringing, and your Caxton. How gentlemen shall be known from Churls. Don't be a Churl, Marigold. Full of sloth in his wars, full of boast in his manhood, full of cowardice to his enemy, full of lechery to his body, full of drinking and drunkenness. Revoking his own challenge; slaying hisprisoner with his own hands; riding from his sovereign's banner in the field; telling his sovereign false tales . .

”You have it pat.” The boy, suddenly released, rubbed his arm. ”Naturally. My rule of thumb. We all have our religion. With Johnnie, it's Paracelsus. Mat here follows Lydgate; and your father and Ascham fit very well together. If he thunder, they quake; if he chide they fear; if he complain-.

Shocked into interrupting, Mat spoke, a broad finger directed at the redheaded boy. ”His father? He was nameless..

”Allow me to introduce you.” Lymond, speaking mildly, was watching Bulb. ”Will Scott of Kincurd, Buccleuch's oldest son..

The gypsy smiled back boldly. ”A prize indeed..

Understanding and contempt filled the boy's face. ”Of course. Your diffidence is explained. But I a.s.sure you, you needn't be afraid of Buccleuch. He'll neither hound you for taking me nor pay you for ransoming me. In fact, he knows I've left to join some such as you..

”Some such,” repeated Lymond idly. ”And didn't try to stop you?” The young man laughed. ”He didn't much fancy seeing his son and heir exposed in the gutter. He tried. But there are two other boys in the family. He'll get used to it..

Lymond shook his head sadly. ”There goes your day's work, Johnnie..

Johnnie Bulb slid noiselessly to his feet. an ecstasy of white aeeth. He stretched lazily, sketched an elaborate bow to Lymond, nodded to Mat, and made for his pony. On the way, he stopped and prodded the boy with a long, dirty finger. ”Home for you, laddie: home!” said he. ”You need a longer spoon than the cutlers make to sup with this one..

”Well?” said Lymond. And Will Scott, to his secret astonishment, read an invitation in the tone.

”I haven't a spoon,” he said. ”But I had a knife I could trust..

”This?” The Master slipped from his belt the dirk he had removed when Will, the solemn tracker, had been ambushed by his quarry. He tossed it thoughtfully once, twice, and then pitched it to its owner. Will caught it, his expression an odd compound of surprise and mistrust.

With acute misgiving, Turkey Mat watched him. ”You're not taking him on, sir?.

”On the contrary,” said the Master, his eyes on Scott ”It's the other way round..

Matthew persevered. ”He'll wait till we're settled, oath or no oath, and then bring Buccleuch and the rest down on top of us..

”Will he?” said Lymond. ”Will you, Marigold?.

Brilliant, youthful face confronted restless one.

A little, malicious smile crossed the Master's face.

”Oh. no, he won't,” said Lymond confidently. ”He's going to be a naughty, naughty rogue like you and me..

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