Part 36 (1/2)

For the second time in a few days, Richard Crawford had made a momentous decision purely on impulse. It made him feel uneasy,the prey of dark and atavistic caprice. But on thinking it over, more or less all night, he found that he regretted nothing.

The odd thing was that Lymond believed him without question. The next day, although catastrophically weak, he replied slowly and sensibly to Richard's necessary questions. Moved for the first time to imagine how it felt to exchange an oblivion so pa.s.sionately wanted for such an extremity of defencelessness, Culter dealt with him wisely.

As the days pa.s.sed, his sense of time perished. Lymond, however spent, was never less than scrupulous, unaffected, undemanding. Avoiding only the recent past, they ranged in their talk over the widest ~elds. Richard was impressed by his brother's grasp of affairs. He was well-informed, not at the level of amba.s.sadorial junketings and court lev&s, but as the product of shrewd observation over the battlefields and spyholds of half Europe.

He spoke without embarra.s.sment of such episodes in his life, but with discretion. Once, when Richard, seizing on a point, began to develop it with uncharacteristic excitement, Lymond himself interrupted with an anecdote so helplessly funny as well as so ribald that Culter was surprised into a shout of laughter and forgot, until afterward, the original issue.

Later, staring up into the night sky, Culter said, ”If only you'd come to us after you left Lennox, instead of . . .” Instead of foundering in self-pity. He could hardly say that.

Lymond flushed. ”Instead of surviving to bellow like a barghest?” It was his only reference to the other night, and Richard was caught without a rejoinder, but after the briefest pause, Lymond himself w~.nt on. ”But I did come back. To my kinsmen I will truly, praying them to help me in my necessity. . . . I thought you knew. I came to Midculter from Dumbarton in '44-fully au prodigal son, puffing excuses like smoke from a chimney head-” A trace of the old mockery sharpened the light voice.

”What happened?” asked Richard quickly.

”I was shown the door. By our honoured father. He tried to enforce the suggestion with a whip..

There was a short silence. Then Culter said, ”He must have told n.o.body. I wouldn't touch you: you know that. Until the-the Midculter affair..

”I know, you d.a.m.ned fool,” said Lymond mildly. ”That's why I had to attack Midculter..

Lord Culter sat up. After a moment he pushed a hand throughIhis flat brown hair and said bluntly, ”What about the setting fire to the castle.

”Green boughs. Good G.o.d, Richard: I've mastered the art of making timber burn better than that by this time..

”And the silver?.

This time there was a little pause. Then Lymond said, ”You're going to be annoyed about that. She didn't tell you, I expect, because she knows what a filthy bad actor you are. Mother got it all back the next day.~~Richard's stare was embarra.s.singly concentrated. ”And Janet Beaton?.

”Oh. That,” said Lymond bitterly. ”That was because I had to drink the whole b.l.o.o.d.y night through to get enough courage to visit the castle at all. One more skirl and one of my pets was going to slit the lady's larynx for her. So I did something first. Unfortunately, I was too d.a.m.ned drunk to do it properly. That and the pa.s.sage with Mariotta: the kind of lunatic blunders that always blemish the high romantic in grim reality. . . Come, my friend, my brother most enteere; for thee I offered my blood in sacrifice; and all that. Except that it was Janet Beaton's blood..

Richard said mildly, ”It wasn't anyone else's blood at Hexham,” and saw his brother redden again. ”The climax to a series of sordid private fights. Don't get excited. Erskine got the idea he was carrying out the Third Crusade, but all he carried out was me, the lord be thankit. G.o.d, I've whined for ten minutes. Bury me at Leibethra, where the nightingale sings..

As Lymond grew stronger, his brother forced the pace of their discussions and once, out of an obscure train of thought, said, ”Francis. Did you ever tell Will Scott how old you actually are?.

Lymond looked blank. ”No. Should I?” and Richard grinned. ”Probably not. You appear to be immeasurable in his view, like G.o.d and the Devil..

”A year with Will Scott would make a dayfly feel like Enoch,” said the Master. ”Whose side is he on now?.

”Yours, by all accounts,” said Richard dryly. ”Buccleuch got him accepted back at Court and Will has taken to advertising your peculiar talents from the four walls in a voice like a Gadwall duck..

”Don't be deceived,” said Lymond with equal dryness. ”That's only remorse because he bit me and I didn't bite back. He'll settle in time into a decent, douce Buccleuch..

If Richard thought it unlikely, after a year of Lymond's company, he said nothing; and was not to know that his brother was watching him. A moment later the Master said equably, ”n.o.body's going to hold you to a promise that needs this amount of nursing, Richard. I don't want my life at the price of anyone's outraged instincts. It has a rudimentary value in that you were moved to preserve it, but don't let's labour the point..

He was not, clearly, interested in a superficial rea.s.surance; also, his reading was correct. If he produced facts a yard a day like a guinea-worm, Richard didn't want them. He had promised to free Lymond, and he had no desire to regret it. He said at length, ”My instincts are very accommodating..

”All right, but remember, although you've bought the rights of fuel, feal and divot, I shan't be lying here like an upset sheep forever..

Richard said, ”You think I'll discard in the perpendicular what I favour in the p.r.o.ne?.

”Not if you talk like that: you'll want an audience at any price..

Culter laughed, and it was the end of that particular discussion.

But although Richard forgot it, Lymond apparently did not. Next day he put his theory to the test, dispa.s.sionately and with the kind of calculated resolution that still startled his brother. Richard knew nothing until he came back from his traps to find the clearing empty and his horse gone, and one of the saddlepacks with it.

One by one, his first conjectures were discarded. No one had captured Lymond: there was no trace of struggle, and only their own footprints and the tracks of one horse in the soft gra.s.s. Nor could it be some flamboyant gesture to relieve him of his decision: horseless, Richard had little chance of reaching Scotland alive.

He looked again at the tracks. They were very recent, and not hurried. Lymond was unable, of course, to ride fast. With sudden decision Culter stooped again, and s.n.a.t.c.hing bow and quiver followed the mare's hoofmarks out of the clearing. They led him along the banks of the stream, then up a shallow cliff to open gra.s.s. He picked them up, running lightly, as they swung out in a wide circle, and alternately studied the ground and the gentle, tree-scattered slopes in front of him. There was no trace of Bryony there. Driving back every apoplectic emotion which might distract him, he concentrated on the ground.

The hoofprints brought him, in a gentle arc, back to his own clearing. He stopped when he realized it, breathing tightly and fast,and waited, resting, his free hand smoothing back his hair. When he had control both of his breathing and of the curious conflict within himself, he went on.

Lymond, lying face down beside the gently cropping Bryony, turned his head and produced a sick, placating grin. Richard exploded.

'This b.l.o.o.d.y mania for juggling with other people's guts. You lunatic, if I'd overtaken you back there, I'd have killed you..

”I thought,” said the Master pacifically, ”that it was time to get used to the saddle again. We ought to start north..

”Quite. And that was only part of what you thought,” said Lord Culter. He tied up the mare and stalked back again with a cup of water, which he dumped at his brother's elbow. ”You like to be sure of your relations.h.i.+ps-who doesn't? But no one else does it by making themselves into a clearing nut for other people's emotions. If my sentiments are in a muddle,” said Richard angrily, ”I d.a.m.ned well prefer them to stay in a muddle, without any interference from you.

Propping himself on one elbow, Lymond lifted the cup, spilled it badly and set it down again without drinking. He said, ”It seems I can now stick on a horse. Therefore we can get back north, beginning tonight if possible. And since, as soon as we move into Scotland, my company will compromise you, we ought to have some issues clear..

He stopped. Richard said nothing; and his brother went on grimly. ”You offered me a reprieve knowing only hail the story. You mentioned Mariotta, and what I told you about her was true. You haven't mentioned Eloise..

Richard sat down, removed the fallen cup, and set it straight. Then he said, ”Look. I don't share your pa.s.sion for self-immolation. I don't want to hear about Eloise, and I don't want issues made any clearer than they now are. Whatever your conscience has on it, I intend to take you back to Scotland and see you aboard s.h.i.+p. If you can ride, we leave tonight..

”G.o.d,~~ said Francis with amiable rudeness, between his hands. ”What price now the mighty Lar?.

A day later, with Lymond mounted and Richard walking at his side, the two men began the slow journey north.

Dinner in Lord Grey's house was served at two o'clock, and he had invited company: Sir Thomas Palmer, his fortifications expert from London, and Gideon Somerville and his young wife Kate.

Katherine, neat as a peach and spruce in grey satin, was not impressed by Berwick, by the meal, or by Willie Grey. With a thoughtful brown eye she watched the salt cellar whisking past her nose-”There you are: Bowes, Brende and Palmer with the horse, leaving tonight and lying at Coldingham”-the ale jug: ”Holcroft with the foot, leaving tomorrow and joining the two of you with the horse at Pease Burn”-and the salt cellar again: ”Monday, early, Palmer makes contact with Haddington and they give cover while all of you put fresh men into the fort and come back..

Some of the salt had spilt. Kate threw it over her left shoulder and remarked, ”How simple it sounds in Englis.h.!.+ Just imagine Sir James drawing diagrams on the walls to convey his orders in Haddington. A quick course of Udall would work wonders with this army..

Gold wire twinkled. ”Why Udall?” asked Palmer.

”Or any other nimble Latinist you can think of. Don't you think they need a lingua franca, poor things?” said Kate. ”And if your two thousand Germans are coming by sea, and Lord Shrewsbury with eleven thousand Englishmen from all the s.h.i.+res are exchanging dialects at York, and the Swiss and the Spanish and the Germans want to communicate from Haddington, throwing in a few Italian engineers for luck, you'll have a dear little Babel all of your own..

Lord Grey's face was gloomy. ”So will the Scots,” he said. ”By all accounts. If Henry sends forty thousand more Frenchmen and the King of Denmark throws in-.

”All the more reason for linguistic action. Buchanan against Eton. You've been to Haddington, Sir Thomas?” asked Kate.

Palmer grinned. ”We all went the day they held Parliament, and popped a good few bags of powder in while they were busy. Bowes took young Wharton under his wing: he did rather well. Between Lord Grey here and his father he was a bit low to begin with..

”Incompetent young fellow,” said Grey vaguely; and remembered something. ”By the way, sincere apologies: Gideon having to bring you that girl who escaped. Nasty business, but unavoidable. Lady Lennox could do nothing with her, I believe..

Katherine said, ”You never caught up with the other, did you.

The man who killed the messenger at Hexham?” and Grey stared moodily at Palmer. ”That d.a.m.ned fool Wharton. The father's worse than the son. Five minutes after the shot he sends a man to collect the body- No body. The fellow had an accomplice. One? The kind of guard my Lord Wharton had on that church, he might have had ten..