Part 6 (1/2)

She said, ”It's Tom Erskine- Outside the postern, quick. Where's Sym . . . oh, there you are. Yes, I know: he's told me. Look: go with him, take him to the cave and come back . . . it's a small cavern halfway along the path; well hidden. You can stay there till dark. I'll get a cloak and some food over to you later..

”My sword-.

”I'll send it. Here's the postern key. Quick!.

She turned, as their running footsteps receded. ”Tom, my dear! Wait and I'll come up!.

Christian Stewart lifted her skirts and began climbing the stairs thoughtfully. ”Damm the man!” said she, as she went; and it was not at all clear which man she meant.

* * *With Erskine were all his troops; tired, filthy and in the wildest of spirits. Biggar opened its doors to them: Bizzyberry echoed with laughter and music and at the castle, officers and garrison, suitably freshened up, shared a happy excess of food and drink in the banqueting hall.

Sitting beside Tom, smelling the white soap he used and picturinghim, clean, rosy and normal, Christian was moved to say, ”Tom, I'm so gJad you're here!.

He said apologetically, ”I'd have been here long before if I could. You look tired to death. Idiotic of Jenny Fleming to leave you..

She smiled. ”It's only my capacity for intelligent sympathy that's exhausted-I'm longing for simple, positive, cheerful conversation. Tell me more of your news..

For it was not only good, but miraculous. Lords Wharton and Lennox, dug deep into Annandale, had turned tail; and pursued by himself and Lord Culter had scampered back to England. There was a garrison still at Castlemilk-no very great danger-but the deadly thrust north had been stopped: the western arm of the nutcracker had broken.

”Why?.

”Overconfidence, we think. They spread a rumour they meant to march north, and got a shock when Culter a.s.sumed the opposite and charged in. Made a mess of poor old Annan, but nothing to what Clydesdale missed, thank G.o.d. Although I don't mind saying,” he added frankly, ”that Culter took a chance I wouldn't have touched with a billhook..

”But it worked,” said Christian. ”And now?.

”Report to the Queen Mother. Dispatch rider ahead, of course, with details but I follow tomorrow. You'll come, won't you?.

”I think I shall, yes,” said Christian. ”If there's no threat to the castle they can dispense with me here. And I ought to take those children off Lady Fleming's hands. Is there a moon tonight?.

”No: It's got overcast,” said Tom, surprised. ”Why?.

”Oh, it doesn't matter. Sym wanted some night fis.h.i.+ng. And I must finish packing as well,” said Christian, with the appearance of absolute truth.

* * *The path through the bog was not easy to find. Even steered firmly by Sym, her booted feet kept gouging into wet sponges and clucking, half-dug hags. Her gown was soaked and her spirits still damper when she heard a murmur ahead.

Sym, a joyful conspirator, whispered. ”There's someone else with him in the cave, my lady..

Christian said, ”Be quiet!” but the low voices stopped, and therewas a stealthy sound to their right. She pushed Sym a little, and he stepped forward, rising surprisingly to the occasion with a bold voice. ”Stay where you are! We bring food from Boghall, but we're armed, too.',”Doubly armed, I trust,” said the voice of their former prisoner. ”My faith, yes. Food, my sword and dagger-Sym, you're a hero.

Good G.o.d!” it said plaintively. ”Good G.o.d! Lady Christian. The most determined creature since Bruce. I owe you some mformation, don't I?.

”You do. How do you feel after your wallc?.

”In good heart and excellent health. Happier than Augustus, better than Trajan. And one of my own senators, to boot, has already traced me and is about to restore me to my empire. It's the new moon. Like the elephants of Mauretania, my friends are foregathering to perform mysterious rites . . . Jonathan Crouch is an Englishman I want to speak to, that's all. I know nothing about him, except that he's a prisoner in Scotland, but I mean to trace him, if it takes me to h.e.l.l and back..

”It needn't do that,” said Christian. ”Because I can do it for you, through Tom. He has access to all the lists at Stirling, and he'll be discreet, if I ask him. Come to this cave on Tuesday, and I'll leave word for you..

The voice this time was brief. ”Thank you, Shalirazad, but I think not..

She spoke bluntly. ”Crouch will be ransomed back to England long before you can find him yourself..

”Nevertheless, no..

Meeting the rock of his will, she had no mind to plead. ”Well, whether you want it or not, the information will be there,” said Christian. ”Ignore it if you want to. Good night.” And pulling Sym's coat, she moved.

She was stopped at three paces by long, wiry fingers and a gust of garlic. Then: ”G.o.d d.a.m.n you, Johnnie, let her go!” said the expressive, flexible voice, and the hands dropped. She moved on quickly, without waiting for more.

Hallway back to Boghall, Simon spoke. ”Who's Shahrazad?.

”A farsighted lady who kept the Shah on a leading rein by telling him stories..

Pause. ”I don't see the connection,” said Sym.

”Oh, don't be a fool!” said Christian irritably. ”There isn't any..

More Blindfold Play:The Queen Moves Too FarIn figour mild be maid in chess a queneA fair ladyc yat galye cled suld beneAnd in a chyar scho suld be set on bight,A crowne of gold apone hir bed weile dicht.

Richt sad in moving suld yir wom~ beAnd of short s.p.a.ce, and to no fer ciltre.

”F IREARMS!” said Wat Scott of Buccleuch with a powerful disgust. ”Firearms! I could do more harm with a good spit througha peashooter. .

Tom Erskine located the voice without enthusiasm.

He had had a frustrating week. Stirling was his home: his father was Keeper of the castle, and in the romantic and ingenuous soul which lurked behind his rouad exterior, the Master of Erskine loved above all things to see between his horse's ears the Rock of Stirling, a homely Lorelci in the green meadow of the Forth.

It had taken all Friday to bring Christian Stewart and her women to Stirling. He had left them at Bogle House, which the Culter family and the Flemings shared, and had found his town like one with the plague at the door. Court, government, the tougher shreds of army command, had all recoiled on the place, and the streets were a nightmare of hors.e.m.e.n and wagons. More than that: inside the packedlands lived an invisible disease of fright and nerves ten times worse than the newsless, suffering strain of the country because, like proud flesh, it increased on itself. Arran the Governor, awaiting the final, destined disaster of Somerset's attack, saw Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin in lapidary capitals before him and was sick with nerves. The town followed his lead.

At least, Tom found, they had taken thought for the Queen. For a week, the baby had been in hiding with her mother, and Mariotta and Lady Culter, now taking the place of the new-widowed Jenny Fleming, had gone to be at their side. Later, he heard that Christian had been commanded to join them.

He could not even be her escort. He was held fast in Stirling by affairs, and by the necessities of war. On Monday night. they heard that Leith was on fire and Holyrood Abbey overthrown; later, that the English Protector had struck camp and was on the move, while an English fleet was sailing farther north. No question now, of being sent to join the Queen, and Christian. Erskine stayed, and lightheaded with the despair of high crisis, the town awaited fresh news.

In the evening, it came. The English army was marching-not west, toward them, but south.

It was news that would be repeated, word for word, as long as they lived. On Monday, it was confirmed. The Protector, at Lauder, was still moving toward England. On Tuesday and Wednesday, fresh reports: the English fleet had simply fortified Broughty Castle on Tayside, and appeared to be waiting only for a wind to leave again. Thursday and today, Hume Castle had fallen to the enemy and had been garrisoned; the English army were now at Roxburgh, and apart from these outposts and the cut and dead wrack left by the storm, the pounding seas had withdrawn and the tide had flowed south.

Impossible to understand why Somerset had failed to press his brilliant advantage. The tired captains in Stirling could only surmise. The cautious pointed to the four English garrisons: two seabound on the open east coast, two within reach of the Border; but jubilation, like a truant, crept up on the town and its army.

Tom Erskine, at last free to escape, was impatient alike of wild opinions and delay, and irritated beyond reason to find Bucclcuch in the company on his first visit to Stirling since Pinkie. Particularly when the company, sleek and splendid, was George Douglas, whose elder brother, the Earl of Angus, was head of the House of Douglas in Scotland and father to Lord Lennox's wife.

He walked forward nevertheless and was seized. ”Here, Erskine:you've used 'em. Hackbuts, boy! d.a.m.ned dangerous things!” Fighting had left Wat Scott of Buccleuch unaltered: bonnet crammed with Buccleuch bees, he looked as he had done when, standing with Lord Culter on the Boghall battlements, he had watched smoke rise from the castle where his wife Janet lay with a knife in her shoulder.

And that was a theme painfully close to Erskine's mind-and Sir George's too, it appeared, for interrupting Buccleuch blandly he observed, ”Hullo, Erskine. Come to tell us about poor Will?” And so Tom had to embark, perforce, on his errand.

”I've seen your boy, Buccleuch. He's in good health.” That, at least, was true.

Circ.u.mscribed by lowered eyebrows and raised beard, Buccleuch's face did not change. ”Poor Will?.

Sighing, Erskine discarded finesse. ”He's with Crawford of Lymond..

The thickets of grey curls tightened. ”Lymond!” bawled Buccleuch. ”As a prisoner? A hostage?.