Part 5 (2/2)

Christian had reached the door. She turned, and said ironically, ”No burden at all. You haven't forgotten.

”Ho, ho: say you so;Money shall make my mare to go..

She shut the door, smiling, and left him to think it over.

This was Thursday, the 15th of September. Tom Erskine had gone south on Monday: he might very well be back for her any day now.

In the meantime, the demands on her time and her resources were continuous. All the lands of Biggar and Kilbucho, Hartree and Thankerton were in the care of the castle. In the absence of all the able men who had followed Lord Fleming to Pinkie and who had not yet returned-who might never return-the families on these lands must be succoured: given advice, news and medical help as they needed it; and plans made for their reception if the invaders broke through.

For the news from the east was pitiful. The army, ill-a.s.sorted and suspicious of itself, had crowned tactical blunder with panic: breaking up on the field, it had given way and had been hunted into extinction. While, forty miles to the north, the Court had found temporary refuge at Stirling, the English Protector, moving victorious toward Edinburgh, had put his horse into empty Leith, camped outside, and embarked on leisurely discussions about its fortification while English s.h.i.+ps, sailing unchecked up the east coast, took and garrisoned the island of St. Colme's Inch, strategic gem in the midst of the Forth estuary north of Edinburgh.

And at any moment, they might hear of the approach from the southwest of Lord Wharton and the Earl of Lennox, and their English soldiers.

The day at Boghall wore on. The strain was bearing on them all:Christian began to feel herself drained of comfort and vitality. In midafternoon, she made time to visit the deserted wing, aware of increasing irritation with the situation. Baulked meantime of his hopes of ransom, Sym might well have tired, she thought, of acting nursemaid-c.u.m-jailer, and think there would be less danger and more fun if he brought Hugh into the affair. In accepting four years of Sym's unshakable loyalty, she had discovered his weaknesses. Thinking thus, she made for the private stair.

A clash of swords above her drove the blood from her heart. She stopped, and was rewarded with a crack of gasping laughter. ”Man, it's not s.h.i.+nty! Use yourself neatly: see, to the left; forward; then up and through..

There was a further clatter as pupil evidently followed suit. She swept to the stairhead.

”You pair of fools: they can hear your swords in Biggar. Sym. Is this the way you look after a sick man? And you, whoever-you-are!You're taking our care of you very lightly.” Ignoring excuse and apology, she dispatched Sym to keep guard at the top of the stair, and seized the other man by the arm. ”You deserve to hop like St.

Vitus: turning fencing master with the fever hardly off you. Sit down at the stair bottom. Your head-.

”-Would serve a cat in a bowl eight days,” he said, with another gasping laugh, and set about controlling his breath.

The doorway in the turret looked onto her private garden. Overlooked by the deserted wing and surrounded by an eight-foot wall it was silent and secret. The sun was warm; the peace absolute.

Beguiled from her duty she rested too, shoulders held by the wail, face upturned to the sun. Nothing moved but great rumours of perfume swelling and fading, sforzando and diminuendo; an orchestration of woodwind in the warm air.

Silence, broken by three golden notes of a lute: her own, she remembered, left on the bottom step. She said, ”If you play, please go on. Music's my joy and my obsession..

”What shall it be?” He ruffled the strings, and made a false start. Then a spray of notes flew into the air, modulating in descending arpeggios. He suddenly sang, neatly and gaily,”En mai au douz tens nouvelQue raverdissent prael,Qi soz un arbroiselChanter le rosignolet.

Saderala don!Tant jet bonDormir lez le buissonet..

He paused, and evidently accepting her smile, continued. Tentatively, Christian joined him next time:”Saderala don! Tant jet bon Dormir lez le buissonet..

They sang the last chorus together, melody and descant, and when he stopped she said trumphantly, ”Sang School! I knew it!.

Plucking crotchets like raindrops, he responded. ”Am I a schoolmaster, think you?.

”Or a monk?”-innocently.

Laughter intensified in the voice. ”When clerics sing like littlebirds?-No, surely not . . .” and he swept tempestuously into a song made immortal by its far from clerical sentiments; and from there to an estampie she did not recognize.

His playing was restrained and skilled. Drifting from this to that composer~ he discoursed gently about musical theory and philosophy; and she found herself stating her own views, asking questions, listening intently. With humble and rather touching delight, she entered into her own world; the world of sound, and was happy until Conscience put a hand on her shoulder. She said suddenly, ”Who is Jonathan Crouch?.

”Who?” he said lazily. ”Oh, Jonathan Crouch. He's an Englishman, at present pns- The hiatus, the inhalation, the shaken voice, were plain for her to hear. ”You use drastic methods, don't you?” he said.

Christian replied quickly. ”Memory's a strange thing, taken unawares. Sym told me you spoke the name in your sleep..

”Did I? Then it must have some personal importance, I suppose but what? I'm sorry. It's vanished. Try again..

”Then it probably isn't your own name?.

His laugh sounded genuine enough. ”G.o.d forbid! Surely I'd know it if I heard it?.

”It might strike you suddenly. Or maybe you'd rather select one? O Dermyne, O Donnall, O Dochardy droch..

”No,” he said. ”Look, we could go on forever. I think I prefer being an old, nameless article to a new-minted one with a false label around my neck. Or, indeed, anything of a ropelike character. Leave me to spend my remaining wit on Jonathan Crouch, and in the meantime let there be dancing and singing and all manner of joy . .

The lute sang, irresistibly, and so did he.

”The Frogge would a wooing rideHumble-dum, hum ble-dumSword and buckler by his sideTweedle, tweedle twino.

”When he was upon his high horse setHumble-dum, humble-dumHis boots they shone as black as jet-.

The break was as violent as if death itself had struck. The four strings gasped, once, under clenched fingers, and there was silence.

Alone with the hammering of her heart, with infinite patience, Christian waited.

”Memory's a strange thing.” What aspect of the bold, ill-fated frog had opened the gates? Frogs-and wells. What lay at the bottom of a well? Cats; and kelpies; and curses; and cures for warts . . . and Truth, of course.

As if the thought had reached him, there was a movement beside her. The light insouciant voice showed no inclination to dive into wells.

'I-Tweedle, tweedle, twino. I have a confession to make. The first rule of prison life is to curry favour with your jailer. This I have done with some success: Sym tells me he has no desire either to hang or to impoverish me. On the contrary: this afternoon he showed me how to escape with the key of the postern and over a secret path in the bog. I promised not to use it without your permission..

Christian said, ”I see. You seem to have been working very hard. And what is the rule when there are two jailers?.

He was silent for a moment; then said, ”Look: swear me G.o.d from top to toe in one breath if you will; but remember, I exposed myself voluntarily..

”All right,” she said. ”Provided you have a clear idea of the situation. I take it you've recovered your senses, and your ident.i.ty is not one that would be pleasing to Hugh. You are likewise unwilling to be a source of profit or revenge to Simon or myself. You are therefore asking us both, in view of past favours, to connive at your escape..

If she had expected him to betray any further emotion, she was disappointed. ”Admirably just, and justly d.a.m.ning,” said the voice equably. ”Well, the remedy is in your own hands.” And he quoted mockingly:”Se'l ser un Si, scrivero'n rima;Se'l ser un no, amici come prima..

There followed a pause, during which Christian came to the annoyed conclusion that she had once more been outmanoeuvred. Possessing the key, he had flung himself on her mercy. Why? It occurred to her that when referring to the enslavement of Sym, he had refrained with the utmost tact from drawing a parallel. He had left her to do that. To betray him now would suggest the vindictiveness of a disappointed woman, and she might well, in his opinion, shrink from that.

”Amici come prima, indeed!” repeated Christian viciously to herself, and added aloud, ”I a.s.sure you that if you've persuaded Sym out of his dream of wealth through sheer weight of personality, I'm unlikely to insist on furca and fossa out of spite or low curiosity. But what I must and will have clear is that once free, you'll do us no harm..

”I could give you my word on that, except that, like the wonders of Mandeville, my probity is problematical..

”The thought had occurred to me,” admitted Christian. ”Therefore while accepting your promise-of course-I must make one other condition. Tell me your interest in Jonathan Crouch..

”G.o.d!” he said; and this time she heard genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Next time I'll make straight for Hugh. Rather the thumbscrews than the confessional. But I warn you, it's a poor bargain. You won't trace me through Crouch..

”I'll risk that,” she said, and then had further words struck from her by a sudden, vast commotion, echoing among the towers. At the same moment, a familiar voice rolled down the stair. ”Good news, Christian! Are you there? Can I come down? Christian!.

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