Part 9 (2/2)

The beasts straddled the causeway, two to a wainload, surging Un-progressively through the night with poached and indolent eye. Behind them groaned the carts, tamped with humped canvas, and behind that, more carts, horse-drawn. The mounted escort, fidgetting on all sides, was in a foul temper and raw-alert.

The night, moonless and unsympathetic, stretched around them, and visibility at thirty yards granted them a view of a quant.i.ty of stunted thorns.

The bullocks puffed gently, and a mare snickered. She was answered by one of the other horses.

Above the wheel-rumbling, someone cursed. ”Hold her nose! We don't want the whole G.o.d-d.a.m.n percussion band.” But as he said it, one of the cart horses threw back its head and presented the night with a splitting neigh.

”Wait a minute!” They listened; while the speaker laid hands on the ox harness and the procession rolled to a halt.

There was silence-broken by a dim beat far out in the night. Then the first tap was begetting others and the pattern was recognizable. Horses, in a solid body, were sweeping in on them from the moor.

A crackle of orders arose; hurried movements and sudden, heavy breathing: bows, pikes and lances readied, they made for the shelter of the carts. They barely got there before, out of the night, dim forms came flying, heaving, nudging, bouncing and kicking in a cacophony of horse language. Lost in the flailing mora.s.s, with their own mounts rearing and thres.h.i.+ng, the supply men had a confused impression of barrel ribs, rolling eyes and merciful, saddleless backs.

”Blood an' bones!” They were hoa.r.s.e with anger and ~llef. ”It's a d.a.m.ned great herd of wild ponies. Get away with yoq! Off! Off!” And they rose out of shelter, cursing and whipcracking at the steaming bare backs and flying manes. Hoofs sparked on the stones; horses neighed, nosed, b.u.mped and reared.

The hill pony is a stout and independent citizen: bold, uncatchable, inquisitive and gregarious. The herd went seriously to work, exploring all these and fresh talents. The mares were going silly and even the oxen were beginning to plunge.

”h.e.l.l an' thunder!” said someone, taking a moment's breathing s.p.a.ce to have a good look. ”That's funny!.

”What the h.e.l.l's funny about it?” snapped someone else, bucketting past with heels flapping like windmills.

”Well, for instance,” said the first speaker, gasping, ”every one of these brutes is a stallion..

But n.o.body heeded him, for just then the leading wain rolled in bovine panic off the road and sank two wheels up to the axle in mud.

They were attempting to drag it out, to calm the bullocks, to chase off the ponies and to control their mounts when Lymond's men descended like moths; and even then they lost seconds in realizing that these horses had riders. The infiltration was neat and unspectacular, involving close-quarter cudgel work and little injury: there were simply fewer and fewer vertical English and finally none at all. It took them longer to round up the ponies again than it had taken to capture the train.

It was a first-cla.s.s haul. Matthew supervising, flour, biscuits, oats, meat, and leather powder bags with serpentine and corn powder were unloaded and put up in creels ready strapped to their own horses. One cart with hackbuts, bills, bows and arrow sheaves was unstrapped from the oxen and harnessed to a team of ponies. The rest of the ponies, without exception, carried beer.

A wooden box, heavily padlocked, yielded to maltreatment and proved, satisfyingly, to hold the end of the month's wages. It was tied to Matthew's saddlebow.

Lymond watched, moving everywhere. To Scott, roping prostrate bodies together, he intoned: ”Sawest not you my oxen, you little, pretty boy? With hemp, with howe, with hemp. . . . Any familiar faces?-No, of course: you wouldn't know..

He looked over the silent row of gagged figures. ”Unfortunate. A Spanish captain, and not worth his own weight in olive stones. Take em all to Melrose, and the rest of the wagons too. How many do you want for escort?.

Scott said quickly, ”I have ten men: that'll do..

”All right, Barbarossa. Allez-vous-en, allez, allez. You've a job to do before dawn..

Scott nodded earnestly, and rode back to load up the leading cart with his prisoners.

* * *The English lookout at Hume Castle, slumped in the empty fire pan on the roof, was doing sums gloomily in his head. Below, night hidthe great sweep of the Tweed valley and the Merse. Slabbed with fortifications, packed with soldiers, and stuck on a precipice with a six-foot curtain, the place was as safe as Durham Cathedral . . . and he was bored.

If the old man sent up the pay from Berwick, he was due two pounds for the month. Then he owed twelve s.h.i.+llings for food. That leftHe groaned, working it out. It was a relief when he heard the wagons approaching, and caught glimpses of activity at the gatehouse, and familiar riding dress. He made for the bell rope. ”Supply train from Berwick, ho! There's the beer, Davie-boy!” sang the lookout.

Long before the portcullis was down, word had gone from the fire pan to the allure, and the allure to the keep, where sat Sir William Grey, thirteenth Baron Grey of Wilton, Field-marshal and Captain-general of the horse, Governor of Berwick, Warden of the East Marches and General of Northern Parts on behalf of His Majesty King Edward VI of England.

Few commanders enjoy visiting outposts in enemy country: the risks of making a fool of oneself are relative to the distance from base.

Through an unlucky incident at Pinkie, Lord Grey was, as it happened, in a fair way toward doing this in any case for a little, whether he liked it or not. Sitting at his temporary desk, sleek, pink and picturesque, hair and beard a silver perfection above splendid riding clothes, he was in as petulant a mood as a gentleman of quality can be.

”I with to G.o.d,” said his lords.h.i.+p bitterly to his secretary, ”I with to G.o.d I wath thtuck with the Crewth again. Even Boulogne and that d.a.m.n rhymthter Thurrey wath plain thailing to thith..

Mr. Myles rigidly agreed.

Lord Grey gave him a sharp look; then ruffled impatiently through the papers before him. He picked one out, and slapped it down again with the same gesture.

”Fifteen labourerth dithappeared during the work at Roxthburgh:four Thpanith bombardierth and twelve pikemen climbed the wallth and gone home. If I could, I'd do it mythelf. No beer: not enough food. How can I thtaff garrithonth without gold and thupplieth? And how do they think they can get thupplieth to uth when winter thetth. in? h.e.l.l and perdithion!” said Lord Grey, goaded to fury by the unfair stings of Fortune. ”Ith there no word in the Englith language wanting an Eth?.

Mr. Myles was saved by the entrance of Dudley, regular captain of the garrisons bringing the leader of the Berwick supply train to report.

”Mr. Taylor, my lord,” said Dudley; and stood back.

Mr. Taylor, a personable young man with red hair, was coolly received. ”Taylor? I was ekthpecting one of my men from Berwick..

Taylor, in the more normal person of Will Scott, had antic.i.p.ated this question. He said smartly, ”I've just arrived at Berwick, sir. I had some of your men with me, but was asked to leave the more experienced ones at Roxburgh..

”I thee,” said Grey noncommittally. ”Well, what have you brought with you?.

He read the lists proffered without comment; handed them to Dudley with an air of private martyrdom, and turned again to Scott.

”Your men being looked after?.

”Yes, my lord.” He wasn't afraid of that. They all wore clothes stripped off the real English, and the lists were authentic. ”Ten men below, sir: I put two or three to guard the wagons until ordered to unload. Beer, my lord,” he added in explanation.

”Good. Any meth-word from London?.

Scott, standing at the door, said still briskly, ”One verbal message for yourself, sir, from his Grace. I was to deliver it for your ear only..

Surprise registered briefly on all three faces, then the secretary, laying his papers deferentially on the edge of the desk, caught Grey's eye and left the room. Dudley raised an eyebrow and stayed.

Scott said, ”I'm sorry, sir: my orders are .

Grey said, ”Thir Edward remainth,” because to his mind a general should appear to keep no secrets from a cousin of the Earl of Warwick. He hoped the boy had some discretion.

Scott, fulminating, wished his lords.h.i.+p had less.

At this moment of impa.s.se the window fell in.

A second later, a crack like the Eildons parting fell on their ears, and a bouquet of flame bellied up from the courtyard.

Grey strode to the window and Dudley had begun to follow when, under cover of chain detonation and shouting outside, Will Scott leaped. Dudley, overcome before he realized it, gave a m.u.f.fled groan and rolled over, stunned by an efficient blow on the prominent jaw.

The explosion had taken place in the middle of the newly arrived wagon train. The carts had already disappeared in smoke, and the nearest thatches were blazing merrily. Grey, staring out, saw the yard striped with shadows running haphazard about the well and courtyard. Then Woodward, Dudley's lieutenant, appeared below, and some sort of order began to materialize.

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