Part 38 (2/2)

”Patey must be mistaken..

”I'm not mistaken,” retorted Sybilla serenely. ”I overheard you.” She paused, and then went on. ”I got it from Agnes Herries: did it puzzle you to find her wearing it? Before that, it belonged to Mariotta. They took the rest of the rubbish from her at Annan. It very nearly did what you meant it to do..

He touched his head with his hand and sat back, smiling again. ”Wait a moment-what I wanted it to do? I'm sorry, but hasn't Mariotta explained? It was Lymond who sent her all the jewellery. Blame me if you like for not telling Richard, but your poor daughter-in-law put me in an appalling position. But I swear I did my best to persuade her to confide in Culter..

”I'm sure you did,” said Sybilla placidly. ”With results we all know. Of course Mariotta thought they were from Francis: she was infatuated with the idea of him. That must have been a little disconcerting for you. But when she didn't automatically attribute them to you, you must have realized she wasn't, after all, going to fall into your arms as you planned she should. So you adapted your scheme accordingly and it worked quite well. Mariotta thought they came from Lymond, and that was enough to break her marriage and nearly to kill her..

The thin-boned, high-nosed face was flushed with emotion. Dandy said quickly in a troubled voice, ”Lady Culter. You can't know what you're saying. Mariotta was young enough and troubled enough to turn to me. I couldn't deny her help.” He stood up suddenly, anxiety in his face. ”Is this how she is explaining it to Richard? To whitewash Lymond and put the blame on me?.

Sybilla, neatly swathed in gauze and laces, was the calm within thehurricane. She stretched out a slender hand and retrieving brooch and box, returned them to her purse. ”Mariotta still thinks the jewels came from Lymond,” she observed, fixing the distrait man with candid, cornflower eyes. ”But I think she ought to know that you have now tried to kill her husband four times..

There was a little, breathless hush; and then Sir Andrew said, ”Good G.o.d, Lady Culter,” and sat down unbecomingly. ”But this is nonsense. Do you mean to accuse me of . . .

He stared at her, breathing quickly, and then slapped one hand on his desk. ”No! No. I'm d.a.m.ned if I'm going to be scapegoat. I've a very soft spot for you all, Lady Culter, and for Mariotta especially, but I can't let you twist and pervert facts to get your beloved son off the gallows. Give some thought to my mother, at least. . . . The only person who has tried to kill Richard is his own brother..

”Facts?” said Sybilla. ”At the Papingo Shoot Francis aimed twice:once to cut the cord and the second time to kill the bird. Then he dropped the bow and quiver and left the glove. You were the person first on the spot: you had already tried and failed to free yourself of Mariotta and Agnes..

Sir Andrew's flush had paled. ”It's still nonsense,” he said steadily. ”You know I can't shoot. Everyone knows that..

”You can't shoot at a Papingo target,” said Sybilla, ”but you are an excellent marksman on the flat. Everyone knows that, too..

”It's Lymond's word, in that case, against mine. Do you suppose for a moment-.

”Oh, of course. You've no evidence against you,” she said, ”any more than you had when you led Richard and Agnes Herries over a part of the Nith notorious for its potholes. Happily, Richard is a very strong swimmer. And there were, I suppose, too many witnesses..

”I pulled him out myself,” exclaimed Hunter. ”Lady Culter-.

”But the third and fourth times,” said the Dowager, ”there was evidence..

She had effectively stopped his protest. He made a little gesture of resignation. ”You'd better tell me..

”Do you need to be told? I had some simple tests made with the herbal drink you brought from your mother for Richard's use. They tell me Mariotta would have been a wealthy and marriageable widow very quickly if he had drunk it..

He said quietly, ”Go on. And the fourth occasion?.

For the first time, Sybilla lost a little of her self-command. She said,”Do you know, if you had succeeded then, I think you would have had to answer for it yourself to those same gypsy gentlemen and not to me today. He was on his way to Mariotta when they attacked himbut you knew that, of course. It must have seemed quite foolproof at last: Romanies can only be controlled by their King. Unluckily for you, their King at the moment is controlled by me. He learned of your commission and stopped it just in time. Richard isn't dead, Sir Andrew; and I have three men who will swear to having been paid by you to a.s.sa.s.sinate him..

Hunter's manner didn't alter: only his eyes, meeting hers, were curiously bright and impersonal. He said carefully, ”You are evidently bribing whoever you can to save your son. Forgive me, but if you take this any further I shall have to take steps legally to protect myself..

This time Sybilla herself got up, moving away from the table with a rustle of petticoats. She said over her shoulder, ”I haven't taken it any further-yet. But don't be misled. The fact that I am here doesn't mean there is the least uncertainty; the least hope for you. There isn't any. The only doubt is in my own mind and is because of your mother..

”Mother!” said Hunter's voice, half aloud behind her.

There was the briefest pause, and then her quick brain, suddenly showing her his mind, made her twist around. His sword was already half lifted, light stuttering from the blade.

She said rapidly, ”I may look simple, but I'm not precisely moonstruck yet. If I don't come back, you won't even have a chance to hang, my friend..

He continued to come. The sword, still half raised, was aimed almost casually at her heart, and his face was quite detached, like a dreamer's. She drew one quick breath and stood still, her hands open at her sides, her head a little tilted and her lips parted. He walked until he was so close to her that he had to meet her eyes; had to make the small decision that would force the point onward.

Something of the message of the steady blue eyes must have penetrated; something of her unexpected stillness surprised him into a moment's pause; and Sybilla said quietly in that instant, ”I have your charter chest at Midculter..

She thought she had misjudged it. The sword point wavered and approached and his eyes remained flatly purposeful. Then they came alive again, startled and disbelieving; the sword dropped and he said-and had difficulty in saying-”That isn't true. I keep my chest in the strongroom of this house. No one-.

”Your mother keeps her recipes there: remember? And I have a very talented Romany on my side, Sir Andrew. . . . You've had dealings with the English, haven't you, for a very long time? Your visits to the Ostrich put you in no danger-you were already well known in Carlisle. How else did you know Jonathan Crouch was George Douglas's prisoner? Why did Sir George trouble with you unless he had a fairly good idea you were in the same sweet trade as himself?.

She turned, and walking past where he stood frozen in mid-room, she paused by the window, looking out on the ochre and viridian and sage green of the dusty summer treetops.

”Such a mean, thieving little trade: a dealing in secrets; in hissings and winkings and the selling of men's bodies, back and forth. And even then, they didn't pay you well enough. Maybe they realized that you weren't greatly intimate at Court; that you only touched the edge of what they could already get from Glencairn and Douglas and Brunton and Ormiston and c.o.c.kburn and the rest. . . . So you turned your eyes on my family. Wealth; a pretty heiress; a family feud- who'd be surprised if it had fatal results? And the widow, in due time, would naturally turn to the gentle family friend. Or at the very worst, Francis was worth a thousand crowns to Wharton. . .

He said, ”You needn't elaborate. I know what I've done. You've told, then. The papers in that chest-.

”Not yet,” said Sybilla, and turned to meet his white face. ”The chest will be opened if I don't come back..

Tremors were beginning to shake him. He sat again, abruptly, at the table, his eyes fixed on her like stones. ”What are you going to do?” Seeing the expression on her face he gave a sort of laugh and bit his lip, stilling the shaking. ”What do you suppose my wonderful brother would have done now?.

He was too helplessly self-centred, too rotten, for her to pity him now. She said sharply,. ”Your mother has a lot to answer for, but if you had the heart of a rabbit, you would have made a man's life for yourself and let her make the best of it..

He had some pride left. He said, making no excuses, ”Mother knows nothing of this. It will kill her. What-what are you going to do?.

The cool blue eyes rested on his trembling hands. The Dowagersaid slowly, ”Your mother is a sick old woman, and an unhappy one. I don't envy you the life you've led with her, but she need never have become the sort of person she is now.

”Never mind that. She's going to suffer, but not as much as she might have done. I should like to see you hanged. Because of you, I nearly lost every child I have left: I did lose my grandchild. But that would be an insult to all the magnificent, vicious criminals we already have living freely among us.

”You are not of that kind. You did what you did at second and third hand, as you could, and sweetened over with a glaze of hysterical necessity. Once the need is removed, you won't kill again. A reason for living may be hard to find, too: but that is your problem..

She walked to the desk and drawing a paper in front of him, laid a pen beside it. ”I want one thing,” she said. ”And that is a statement exonerating Francis from the things you have done.” And as he hesitated, she said sharply, ”Come along! Beside the other things you have done, what do these matter?.

He looked at her with dull eyes, and then, bending, took up the pen and wrote. She read it, sealed it, and put it away. ”Yes. It won't save him, as you may guess . . . but it will perhaps undo a little of the damage. And now you'd better leave. I'm going to talk to your mother, and then leave for my home. The chest will be opened and its contents published within two days. By then,” said Sybilla, ”you should be out of this land..

He raised his head vaguely, only half understanding. ”I may go?.

”Yes. And I wish you well of it,” she said, her eyes hard as sapphires.

She waited until she heard the sound of his horse on the cobbles, and then rising quietly, climbed the stair to his mother's room.

The terrier had died in the spring, overcome with fat and lack of air.

Since then, Dame Catherine had had no distractions: her son had hardly been at home, and even her books and her paintings and precious pieces of ivory and jade had begun to pall. Longing for company, she welcomed it by releasing the barbs of months of lonely selftorture. Sybilla, sitting quietly by the taffeta-spread bedside, near the heaped-up delicate pillows, listened to Catherine Hunter's spiced invective against her son, her servants, her surroundings, her illness and finally, as the icy flood reached its spring heights, against her Maker.

The Dowager's voice cut lightly through the flow. ”Why don't you get them to carry you downstairs?.

The black eyes sneered. ”That would be delightful,” said the old woman. ”Unfortunately, I am part paralysed, you know..

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