The Game Of Kings Part 29

Lymond was very tired. It was clear in his face, and in the steel undisguised through the velvet of his voice. He wanted Samuel Harvey. He made it perfectly understood that it was a matter of blackmail, and that he had no services but only silence to sell in return.

The Douglas brain moved smoothly behind the statesman's brow. Sir George walked to a cupboard, and as he had done once before, poured two gla.s.ses of wine and moved one across. "You look as if you've ridden a long way, and to no purpose. I'm afraid neither you nor I nor anyone else will have the privilege of speaking to Samuel Harvey in this world, Mr. Crawford. Harvey is dead..

The other man did not touch his drink; but neither did his precious control fail him. After a pause, Lymond raised his gla.s.s in a steady hand. "Can you prove it?" he asked.

It so happened that Douglas could, and the proof was convincing because, rare among Sir George's fantasies, the story was true. At the end, when the last servant had left and the man had come to light the tapers, Sir George addressed the Master's cogitating back. "What will you do?.

Lymond replied without emotion. "Eat, sleep and spend money, I expect. What else does anyone do?.

There was a little silence. Then Douglas, tilting his gla.s.s so that the wine caught the light, said gently, "You know Grey is bartering the Stewart girl's life for yours?.

The reaction this time was instant. Lymond spun around, stopped himself, and put his empty gla.s.s on the table. "No. I hadn't heard." He stood waiting, his eyes open and unwavering on Sir George while the Douglas, gazing back, extended to these fresh fields his style of gentle apology.

Ironic, in a way, Mr. Crawford. lf you hadn't been quite so clever at Heriot, Dalkeith would never have been attacked..

Lymond heard him without interruption. Sir George, who was enjoying a malicious sense of power, ended. "Perhaps a life imprisonment in England is the best thing that could happen to her. . . . I a.s.sume you have no romantic urge to offer yourself at Holyrood so that they can send you in her place..

Lymond's face was quite blank. "If it suits me, I shall approach the Court, however uneasy it makes you..

"And make a killer of your brother and a life prisoner of your benefactress? Not a very economical programme," said Douglas blandly. "Suppose we are practical. Are you going to surrender to Lord Grey?.

"Why? Do you want the privilege of sending me?.

For once in his life, Sir George was completely frank. "Yes. I do. I need Grey's favour, and I have the perfect arrangement ready. A messenger of mine leaves at dawn for Berwick with letters from me to my niece and nephew. I can arrange it so that his safe-conduct allows for one accompanying soldier-at-arms." He knew the type, knew the gesture would be irresistible; and was disconcerted to find in Lymond's gaze the mocking reflection of his thought.

"The war horse's answer to death by old age and pink-eye. How can I refuse?" said Lymond.

Sir George got up with some deliberation. "You'll go? You'll go to Berwick tomorrow with my man and exchange yourself for this girl?.

"Do-to the book; quench the candle; ring the bell. Of course I shall go. Why else was I born?" said Lyinond with bitter finality.

2. The Tragic Moves.

Next morning Lymond, swordless, left Edinburgh's Bristo Port with a courier carrying Sir George's letters and Sir George's safe-conduct.

The day was breathless with promise; the cobbles s.h.i.+ning like milk gla.s.s in the quiet; the gables asleep in blanket rolls of mist. In the streets there was no sign of the grumbling, sc.r.a.ped-up army of men who were preparing to face battle in the warm summer weather.

As the first sun fed on the early haze there was a stirring in the houses. Smoke rose from new fires, and a man with water plodded along the High Street alongside a creaking cart, leaving a trail of splashes like silver s.h.i.+llings on the cobbles. Then he leaped to his horse as a small company in Erskine colours plunged past him and drew rein outside Lord Culter's door. Tom Erskine, in its lead, dismounted and hammered on the knocker until it opened.

He was inside for less than ten minutes. Richard, hail out of his tumbled bed, listened to the beginning of the story, and jumped for his clothes.

The Palace had found a spy, cleverly concealed: a man who had heard not only the Council in session but all the subsequent orders for the Queen's escape to France. They had uncovered him, and chased him, and lost him; then captured him finally after rousing hail the town in the middle of the night.

Erskine rattled on, pacing the room. "The h.e.l.l of it is, he'd already pa.s.sed on what he heard. They know that. They're still trying to get him to say whom he told..

"And if the information has left Edinburgh?" Standing up, Richard stamped himself into his boots, fastening the buckle of his sword belt.

"It's our job to trace it. Quickly . . ." And followed by Lord Culter, Erskine made for the door.

At the Castle, their methods of persuasion were not subtle. By the time Tom Erskine and Culter got there, the spy had Qonfessed. All the plans discussed the previous night had been committed to paper and had been sent to Lord Grey that morning by a special messenger-by a messenger who happened to be going to England under safeconduct with letters from Sir George Douglas.

"Douglas!" said Culter at this point, and got a nervously irritableglance from the Governor, grey and sleepless in wrinkled day clothes. "Purely fortuitous, so I'm told. We'll see. Meantime, Erskine- Culter-it's your job to catch that man. He's an hour at least ahead of you. By the Bristo Port. You know what it means if these papers get to Grey..

"They won't," said Tom Erskine briefly.

* * *Adam Acheson, driving his neat, fast mare as quickly as he dared along the Berwick road with Sir George's letters in his pocket, was a man with no ties and no home. But he had drinking cronies in every inn between Aberdeen and Hull, and he kept them and himself in luxuries by ceaseless industry, a willingness to ride twelve hours at a stretch if need be, and a reticence like a warden oyster.

If he had been surprised to be saddled at the last moment with a companion, he had no special objection. He p.r.o.nounced at the outset: "I've orders to deliver as fast as possible, and to Lord Grey personally. If he's not at Berwick, we ride on until we get him. I hope you're ready for a hard trip..

The fellow made no difficulty. "Ride as fast or as far as you like. I'll stay with you." And side by side Adam Acheson and Lymond cantered in silence under the hot sun.

* * *The same sun, grilling the steel jackets of Erskine's troop, added sting and exasperation to the anxious morning as, without pennants or insignia, Culter and Erskine with a dozen men at their heels galloped south.

The porters at Bristo had given them their first inkling that they were chasing two men: "a black, brosy yin on a nice bay, and a swack, smert yin on a chestnut." The first answered the colouring of the man they knew to carry the papers.

At Linton Brig they- stopped again and were lucky enough to find someone who had been up early with a calving. "Aye, sir: a good while ago, and riding like the hammers. .

At Dunbar they ate on horseback and refilled their flasks, and from a packman, got one more detail. "It stuck in my heid; they were that different: corbie and doo on the ane twig..

Richard remounted rather quickly and started off; Erskine looked at him sharply but followed, saying nothing.

At Innerwick the description was confirmed; at c.o.c.kb.u.mspath the description was specific. Tom Erskine, listening, watched his companion's face for a moment and then glanced away. Beneath the cold sweat Lord Culter was white, and in his eyes and the set of his mouth lay an exultant and frightened savagery. Smiling, he raised his right arm, and smiling, brought the whip precisely across the heaving rump of his horse.

"I thought so," he said. "The man on the chestnut is my brother..

* * *As the two hunted men raced south, followed by their pursuers, a third retinue set out, this time from Berwick: a leisurely caravan, jewelled with flags and fringes. Margaret Lennox was travelling south, and taking the Stewart girl with her.

Since yesterday, and a stormy interview with Lord Grey, Lady Lennox had known that Harvey was dead. And further, that Lady Christian Stewart, now back in Berick awaiting her ransom, had spent much more time with Samuel Harvey than she had allowed to appear. It was then that, with Grey's reluctant permission, Margaret decided to take Christian Stewart to her own home of Temple Newsam.

So it happened that while Lymond and his brother neared the Border, Christian, moving away from them, arrived at Warkworth Castle on the first stage of her weary journey south. There, high above the looped and s.h.i.+ning Croquet she lay safely behind dusty curtains, listening to the dandling of moored boats and breathing the savour of the sea-and wondering if she had given anything away under the ceaseless questioning of the day.

She had told of her encounter with Lymond at Boghail, accounting thus for her interest in securing Harvey's address for him. She had shown mild alarm when told of the dissipations of her prot~g~. She had even, with a bitter effort, hidden her rage and fear when Margaret told her that Francis Crawford was being demanded as the price of her own freedom.

Had he escaped from Threave? If he had, these people knew nothing of it. If he hadn't, then the Queen Dowager, spurred by Erskine and Lady Fleming, would certainly agree to the exchange and Lymond, for nothing, would throw away his life.

Or worse, if he escaped and heard of her plight, he would come of his own accord. She was realist enough to recognize that his code of conduct would demand it, and that he would do no less for Will Scott, or for Johnnie Bulb, or for any dependent of his in the same position.

Next day they reached Newcastle in the late afternoon, and the first voice she heard in her new quarters was that of Gideon Somerville.

* * *In Berwicks.h.i.+re by the same evening the hounds were very nearly up with the hares when the scent ran suddenly cold, and, casting about, Tom Erskine and Culter found traces of a considerable company of horse recently pa.s.sed through to the north.

It was Richard who turned about in the tracks of the convoy and, cutting off the first straggler he could find, made him talk. At dusk he rejoined Tom Erskine, his face ridged with weariness. "It was a convoy for Haddington. Their scouts took in the two men we're after-Wylstropp honoured the safe-conduct and let them go-but they haven't gone to Berwick..

"They haven't!.

"No. Grey is at Newcastle, and he's leaving there for Hexham to pick up reinforcements from Lord Wharton. Our men are making cross-country for Hexham. One other thing..

"What?" said Tom Erskine with the flatness of apprehension. They should have caught these men before they reached Berwicks.h.i.+re. Now they were adrift on the Lammermoors, with the reel of their journey suddenly doubled in length.

"They know we're behind them. Wylstropp's forward scouts had already spotted us and decided not to interfere.~~Erskine said sharply, "Well, what of it? They'll expect us to make for Berwick, not for Hexham..

Lord Culter spoke savagely. "You don't know my brother. He's no fool. In all Britain, Grey couldn't have picked a better man to help him." And whipped up his tired horse.

* * *Arriving at Newcastle that same Friday, Gideon Somerville discovered that Lord Grey had gone to Hexham and was expecting himthere. At the same time he found that the Countess of Lennox was in town with the girl Stewart in her train. Gideon, who had mentally made every plan to avoid her ladys.h.i.+p, changed his mind.

He had five minutes alone with Christian Stewart: no more, but enough to learn of the bargain made for her life.

She had trusted him; he could do no less in his turn. "Lymond is free," said Gideon briefly. "He went to George Douglas to try and get access to Harvey.''She arrested a sudden movement. "But Harvey is dead. He's been dead since Tuesday..

He understood her dismay. "Crawford left to go to Douglas on Tuesday. I suppose there's no doubt Sir George will know of Lord Grey's demand and will tell him. It's d.a.m.nable . . . but it seems to be your life or his, you know..

"Do you think they'd dare touch me?" said Christian with contemptuous rage. "And even if they did, that it would matter? He must be stopped," she said. "He must be stopped. But how?.

"But how?" was still unanswered next morning, when he found with mixed feelings that he was to have company to Hexham. Grey's meeting with Wharton was to be graced with the presence of the Earl of Lennox, and the Countess, on hearing that only twenty miles separated her from her husband, decided to join him instead of going direct to her home. Lady Christian, her women, her men-at-arms- and Gideon-went with her.

Without any very high hopes Somerville had spent part of the night making his own limited dispositions. He had posted a man north of Newcastle in case Lymond tried to trace the girl so far, and sent a small party of his own household in a belated effort to watch the other hill routes which a man crossing from Scotland to Hexham might take.

It was more of a gesture than a plan. It seemed likelier that Lymond would make straight for Berwick and there be captured, voluntarily or involuntarily. As his party rode out west through the green water meadows of the Tyne that morning Gideon, sunk in thought, rode in the rear and left Margaret Lennox and Christian to their own devices in front: a small lapse, but one that afterward he found hard to forgive himself.

On the night before Lady Lennox and her party left Newcastle, two parties of men slept in exhaustion on the Redesdale hills, closerthan they knew, until, sensing the coming dawn, the most hardened of them all raised himself on his elbow.

Acheson was furiously regretting his errand. He had bargained neither for pursuit nor for a difficult cross-country ride. Not only that, but he had been forced to put off hours, so close was the pursuit, in covering his tracks and dodging about these d.a.m.ned, dry hills, so that the message he expected to deliver on Thursday night was still in his pocket.

That brought him to something he had been considering all the previous day. Making sure that the man at his side was sleeping, he drew out a third letter-the letter he had to deliver personally to Lord Grey-and broke the seal.

Shortly afterward he roused his companion and, collecting their tired horses, the two men resumed the last lap of their journey. It was Sat.u.r.day, the twenty-third of June, and a glorious day.

In less than an hour, Mr. Acheson's odyssey of frustration had come to a surprising end. They were waylaid.

Acheson had his sword half drawn to deal with the strangers when his silent colleague stopped him, his eyes on their badge. "Wait!" said Lymond. "Were you looking for me?" They were Somerville men.

Acheson let them talk. The man Lymond might look inconsiderable, but he had proved a master of ingenuity in a tight corner. Besides, they had made ground that morning, and he was thirsty. He dismounted, fanning himself with a dock leaf, and was unprepared for the sheer cutting quality of the man who turned back to him.

"What a pity. It seems I'm not coming with you after all," said Lymond.

Acheson put a hand on his sword, then took it off quickly. It was none of his affair, but he liked to keep on the right side of his employers. "What about this exchange business?.

"Later," said Lymond airily. "First of all, we are making a small detour by the house of a friend..

"Then," said Acheson sensibly, "I'll go on alone..

"And tell the others I'm in the neighbourhood? I'm afraid we can't have that either," said Lymond pleasantly, and closed in. The blackhaired one snarled and lunged, but a crack on the knuckles and another on the head cooled his ardour, if not his rage.

He was blindfolded, disarmed, mounted, and led at a smart trot over the remaining moors to Flaw Valleys.

Christian had noticed a moroseness about Simon Bogle very soon after her retinue set out for Hexham. He rode in silence, her long reins in his hands, and didn't even bid her good morning until she had addressed him twice. The deficiency was made up by the Countess of Lennox, who unrolled mellow conversation through the small dales like a Turkey carpet.

By the afternoon, some little sharpnesses and corners began to show through. The conversation took an unexpected turn toward Christian's fiance.

"So different in appearance, of course: poor Tom; I shan't disillusion you. After all, you are affianced to him," said Lady Lennox. "Although you must have a soft spot for our naughty friend to do what you did for him at Haddington..

"I like to think," said Christian steadily, "that I'd do as much for anyone in trouble..

Margaret laughed. "What an extraordinary person you are! To spend days by the bedside of a dying man, just to ask his address!.

Christian was silent.

"Or was it just his address?" asked Lady Lennox, and the black eyes were sparkling. "Sym didn't think so, last night. I like your young bodyguard, my dear; but he hasn't a strong head, has he?.

"Sym!" said Christian sharply. "d.a.m.n it . . .

The boy's voice wailed in her ear. "I was drunk. I didna know what I was saying!.

"He was certainly drunk," said Margaret's cool voice.

Christian said again, "Sym-" and checked herself. He was gabbling. "I couldna help it. Ye ken I canna hud up under beer. . .

She made an effort. "It doesn't matter. Lady Lennox: I depend on Sym for a great many things. There's nothing to stop you from a.s.sociating with my servants if you want to, but I'd prefer not to have the younger ones reduced to a state of c.r.a.pulence for your purposes..

Irresistible but impolitic. Margaret said blandly, "Am I worrying you? I'm sorry. But there's nothing wrong in listening to a dying man's confession; or even in getting it recorded and signed by a priest and thereafter hiding it-where have you hidden it, I wonder? Never mind. There'll be plenty of time to look, at Hexham..

There was a little silence. Then the blind girl said slowly, "You're quite safe, you know. Harvey confessed to a lot of things, but theyhad nothing to do with me. If he signed anything, it's probably on its way to his relatives in the south. Why on earth should I want it? If you don't believe me, I'm quite willing to be searched..

"That's very sensible of you," said Margaret Douglas cheerfully. "Because I don't believe you, and although I'm sure you've been most ingenious, I was proposing to search you very thoroughly in-deed..

Sym, coming out of a cloud of misery, suddenly took her up. "Search her! Just try and touch her, ye b.i.t.c.h! Try and touch either of us!.

"You misunderstand me," said Lady Lennox. "I wouldn't soil my fingers. On you or your complaisant little mistress..

Sym cried out. "What have I done? She means ye harm: what have I done? I didna mean-it was just the drink-and she asked me-.

"Never mind, Sym," said Christian. "I'm afraid it was a mistake. She's no friend of ours-or of our friends..

She could hear him swallow. He said in a low voice, "The Master of Culter? She wants to hurt you and the Master of Culter?.

"Yes..

"Then she willna!" said Sym, and hurled himself at Christian's horse.

The impact of his body jarred her forward, breathless. She felt him settle behind her, the brush of the reins as he gathered them tight; the firm clasp of his arm around her waist. The horse drew himself in, quivered, and answering Sym's heels swerved, spun, and drove like an arrow through the cavalcade.

Burst asunder, rearing, scattered, speechless, they looked after the flying horse; then, streaming up from the green Tyneside meadows, scrambling and pecking and hubooing over the little hills, they followed in full cry.

Christian had no breath. Crushed in the boy's grip, thought was driven from her by the speed of the animal; her hair buffeted and flew about her face, and her skirts tugged and twisted. The clasp at her waist s.h.i.+fted, and she managed a gasp. "Sym, you fool, go back! We'll be overtaken and it'll be-all the worse for us both..