The Game Of Kings Part 7

"But . . ." said Mariotta.

"I wonder," said Lady Culter, recognizing defeat, "if it could be Dean Adam back from Cambuskenneth? He went last Monday, and I suppose- Or a wandering Observant? Oh well, he did her no harm-I think her screams were annoyance when Elspet lost her head and tried to get her into the boat and back..

"They found no one?.

"No one. Lady Christian herself had been walking there, and heard no one at all in the gardens..

"Can I," said the Queen's Most n.o.ble Majesty, with urgency, "say it now?.

"What . . . I suppose so," said Maman, her brow still furrowed. "Eh bien," said Mary smoothly. She recited.

"Hurbie purple hath a red girdleA stone in his belly,A stake through his a.r.s.eAnd yet hurbie purple is never the worse.

"What is it, what is it, what is it?" roared the Queen.

There was a shaken silence.

Then Lady Culter, in a voice preternaturally grave, said (rather unkindly), "I think-it's a hawthornberry, is it not, cherie?.

Her Majesty's face fell.

* * SChristian laughed outright. "How absurd . . . 'Comment le saluroye, quant point ne le congnois?' Of course I recognized who it was. Credit me with ears, at least..

There was a moment more of the kind of constraint she remembered from their last interview in the cave, then the man beside her gave a mock sigh. "Forgive my obtruseness. My voice again? Crying the coronoch on high. I'm sorry about the uproar. I didn't expect company, but even so, all would have gone well if that blasted girl hadn't s.n.a.t.c.hed the child so suddenly. Magnificent lungs for her age..

They sat in the short gra.s.s in the middle of the maze a previous Earl of Menteith had designed on the north sh.o.r.e of the lake. Dusty box hedges with an unused air shut off any view of the water: from the rear a folly in marble overhung them.

It was warm and still, as it had been at Boghall, where, as her prisoner and her patient, he had played the lute and sung to her of frogs. Christian bugged her knees. "But how did the child find you?.

He answered ruefully, "I fell asleep. Considerably more than doth the nightingale. And the next thing I knew she was sitting on my chest..

"What did you say?" said Christian, fascinated.

"She said, 'M. l'abhe' (you'll have gathered I'm dressed like a magpie)-'M. l'abb4 you 'ave greatly insufficient of tonsure.' And I said, 'Madame la reine d'Ecosse, you are greatly in excess of tonnage.' After which exchange of pleasantries .

"She got off?.

"Not at all. She bounced like a cannon ball and said that DEDO-..

"Her pony.~~"-That Daydo had long yellow teeth; and did I know-.

"That," said Christian in chorus, "you can tell a person's age from their teeth. That's a favourite one..

"Oh. Well, as you say. So she opened her mouth, and I p.r.o.nounced her seven years of age, and she admitted to five. (What is she- four?) Then I opened my mouth-.

"What was it, a pebble?.

"-I opened my mouth and received inside it a small fish, still resisting delivery to its Maker. After that-.

"But what did you do? With the fish?.

"I pretended to eat it," he said simply. "Then we played a game or two, and sang a bit, and discussed a number of subjects. Then the nursemaid, or whoever she was, arrived, and whipped off the child, crowing like the c.o.c.ks of Cramond. And you know the echo, to boot..

"I wish I'd been there," said Christian. "Had you been waiting long? I'd walked to the far end of the garden..

"Not very long. But I have been, and am, all a-quiver like goose gra.s.s. My dear lady, you mustn't toss the secret of the Queen's hiding place at the feet of a complete stranger. It's not in the rules. Quite apart from perjuring yourself on my behalf just now."She said regretfully, "I make some terrible mistakes. But then I'm a very hasty person. You see, they wouldn't let me bring Sym, and I'd no one to send, even if Tom Erskine had found out by Tuesday- which he hadn't. Then old Adam Peebles had to go to Inchkenneth, and I asked him to give a message to Sym so that he could go to the cave and tell you to come today. I had to make the message so garbled . . . and it was a gamble whether Tom would even have reached us by now . . . but he has, so everything has turned out well. Did you have much trouble coming? And getting the robes?.

He brushed the questions aside. "It wasn't difficult-it should have been more so: the guard is wretched. I came by the hill path, and I had your pa.s.sword. There again . . . I don't mind being a lame duck, but the pond you've put me into has a kingdom in it, my dear. By all means let's play guessing games. 'Will you hide me, Yes, par foi! Shall I be found out? Not through me!'-and all the rest of it; but not with your life, or the child's: and think what happened to Eve, at that .

"Good G.o.d," he said, coming to a stop. "I appear to be giving you a miserable nagging for risking your life and reputation for me. Look to me as Wat did to the worm, and relieve my conscience.

She made no attempt either to answer or to argue with him. "Is your head quite better?.

To her relief, he accepted the change of subject. "Quite healed, thanks to you. I fall asleep sometimes rather a lot-as demonstrated-that's all." He hesitated; then said, "How do you get bark?.

She showed him a whistle at her girdle. "I blow from the sh.o.r.e, and a boat comes. Then Lady Culter or Mariotta will meet me." She smiled. "We're a crowded household..

He said, "The Culters. Of course. Who else-Buccleuch?.

She shook her head. "In Stirling. Tom Erskine had to tell him that-" She stopped.

"What?.

She said, "Oh, well. It's common gossip now. His oldest boy Will has joined forces with-.

"-The G.o.d of the Flies, the Lord of the Dunghill-I know," he said. "How did he take it?.

"Buccleuch? Terribly shocked, and grieved, and remorseful, I think. He felt he's driven him off in a fit of temper..

"I expect he should have thought of that in the first place," he said with unexpected asperity, and she heard him get to his feet. "My dear lady, they'll wonder what's become of you. Did Erskine really tell you about Crouch?.

She told him, rising with the help of his arm in its coa.r.s.e monk's robe. "Crouch is Sir George Douglas's prisoner..

"Douglas has him!" There was a thoughtful silence.

"Does that help?" she said tentatively.

"Yes, of course it helps. Very much." He appeared to be in a difficulty. "Yes . . . I have been postponing . . . Lady Christian, whtm we last met you were unthinkably kind and generous-for no kind of thanks that I remember making. I swore to myself not to involve you further. Then when I got your message I was irresponsible enough to come here after all. But at least you shan't be in the dark. You shall hear-now-who I am, and if you want to call the guard, I shan't try to escape this time..

"No!" she exclaimed. "I don't want to know!.

There was, for the first time, a weary distaste in his voice. "But you require to know-you must see that. This secret-the Queen's hiding place-.

"Have you betrayed it? Will you betray it?.

''No.''"Then leave me ignorant," said Christian. "What would make matters easier for your conscience might make them insupportable for mine. I prefer to be selfish. G.o.d knows I've been wrong-politically, legally, conventionally and every other way-in judgments before. But these always seemed to me the more irrelevantaspects of human decency. . . . You are at least Scottish, I think?.

"Yes..

"-And in trouble. Well, I'm human," said Christian. "I don't want conscience money in the form of secrets: not just now, thank you. But the day you genuinely want help, I'll be proud to have your confidence. Till then, show your thanks, if you wish to, by letting me have news of you sometimes..

The man was silent. Then he said lightly, "I can say naught but Hoy gee ho!-words that belong to the cart and the plough. Your confidence is fully misplaced this time, but I imagine you suspected that all along. . . . Tell me: would you know again the other voice you heard in the cave?.

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "Yes, I shall keep in touch. Not as often as I should like, but certainly more than I ought by all the tenets you quoted." They were almost out of the shelter of the box hedges, and he stopped and took her hand, as if examining it. "What in G.o.d's name are you going by?" he said. "Instinct? Intuition?.

"Common sense. Which describes your case as fortunae telum, non culpae..

He answered, bleakly, in the same language. "Heu! The darts which make me suffer are my own. Common sense can be a poor guide and an uncertain surgeon. Better-much better-be foolish, like me. G.o.d clip you close," he said, and was gone.

Christian walked to the sh.o.r.e and there blew a nerve-racking blast on the whistle.

Several Moves by a Knight

A Knyght ought to be wise, liberall, trewe, stronge and full of mercy and pite and keparof the peple and of the lawe. . . . And therefore behoveth bym to be wyse and well advysed, for some tyme arte, craft and engyne is more worththan strengtbe or hardynes . . . for otherwbyte hit happeth that whan the prynce of the batayll affieth and trusteth in his hardynes and strength, And wole not use wysedom and engyne for to renne upon his enemyes, he is vaynquyshid and his peple slayn.

1. Mishap to a Queening p.a.w.n

ON SUNDAY, the day after the affair at Lake of Menteith, Lord Culter was also taking aquatic exercise of a kind which all but turned his epithalamics into elegies.

Mariotta, it is certain, was not alone in finding her husband baffling. Whatever his thoughts about being separated from his wife after three weeks of marriage, Richard kept them to himself and applied his undeniable ability to work.

Under his remote, laconic leadership, the Culter men spent an enlivening week, racing through the night after Wharton, harrying his outposts and nibbling his tail as he recoiled on Carlisle. Then, changing with equal aplomb to the politician's bonnet, Lord Culterset about taping and testing the mood of the southwestern districts which had been the theatre of Wharton's operations, and still lay open to foray and seduction from the south.

The English had left garrisons at Castlemilk and Langholm. These, with his small force, he could not touch; neither could he do a great deal at Dumfries or Lochmaben, or with those unlucky citizens- "a.s.sured Scots"-who lived nearest the shadow of Carlisle and had in sheer self-preservation to buy immunity with promises, and even carry them out sometimes.

But with those nineteen hundred who had promised help for England in August he had surprising success, and when he turned back north for Midculter on Friday, September 23rd, his train was slightly out of hand with high spirits and very little damaged; and he left behind him a number of impressed Johnstones, Armstrongs, Elliots and Carruthers.

Halfway home, he remembered a promise, and sending on most of his men to disperse to their homes, turned aside at Mollinburn with six hors.e.m.e.n to ride through the Lowthers to Morton.

On Sunday afternoon, the party he was expecting came in from Blairquhan, and he left Morton on the Sanquhar road to take the Mennock Pa.s.s north. With him rode the Baroness Herries, his six men and two women servants.

Agnes Herries was thirteen years old, inexpressibly rich, and not very pretty. In spite of two years in the Culter household acquiring, supposedly, polish and panache, she still had a loud and energetic voice, poor skin and a pa.s.sion for romans idylliques. Even Sybilla, soul of charity and tolerance, had mentioned to the girl's grandfather that the child had regrettable taste; adding inaccurately that it came no doubt from the late Lord Herries her father, and not from her mother who had thrown over the joys of widowhood for a well-endowed marriage.

Grandfather Kennedy of Blairquhan, who was waiting with ill-concealed impatience for Agnes's two younger sisters to qualify also for Lady Culter's hospitality, had said rapidly that nevertheless she was a dear child and a pleasure about the house. He had then, mindful of his responsibilities, suggested that Lady Culter should take the girl to Court for the autumn. It wasn't to be hoped that she would ever look much better than she did then, and if the Governor expected his son to marry her (they had been affianced since infancy) the sooner they got on with it the better. .

Thus Richard, escorting Lady Herries north to stay with his mother at Stirling.

It was a miserable day. Sat.u.r.day's golden autumn had given way to a wet and sullen Sabbath; the rain dripped from the small feathers in Culter's cap, and showers of drops from Agnes's hood shook onto her nose.

Lest this should be misconstrued, she blew into a sodden handkerchief for the twentieth time and rode stiffly on.

Lady Herries had her own resodrces. Bodily, she might be damp, cold and in Lanarkshire: in spirit she was with troubadour and minnesinger in the fields of romance. There, in pa.s.sages of chivalry and courtship, the heroine-thirteen, lovely and highborn-was immutable. The hero, true to legend, was apt to rea.s.semble under pressure into different shapes. The Baroness's eyes at present were fixed on Lord Culter's prosaic back: her lips moved slightly as she rode.

"Daphne! Vision! Shining she-lamb!" Bowing, the prince removed his cap, the little leathers wet with rain. Crying, he said- "Devil take the rain; there's someone coming. Anyone recognize the standard?" said Richard sharply. His lordship, looking slit-eyed through the downpour, was insensitive to ruined fantasy at his heels. "Frank! Job!" The two riders in front increased speed for a bit, then wheeled. "It's Sir Andrew Hunter, sir, and some of the Ballaggan boys..

In a moment the two parties met. "Dandy! Echoes from civilization at last. What's happening up north?.

Sir Andrew greeted him smiling, shoulders hunched. "Worse than the time old Scott's patent water system broke down. I've just left your wife and mother-flourishing both-everyone's safe so far. .

Look," said Hunter. "We'll drown if we exchange news here. Come with me to Ballaggan-you could do with something hot inside you anyway. Who's the la.s.sie?.

Lord Culter explained and introduced, and the two parties struck off in company for Hunter's house. The rain ran interminably down Agnes's nose. Covertly, she studied Sir Andrew.

Slimmer, and with better hands than Lord Culter. Lord Culter never joked. She liked dark men with a twinkle in the eye.

The prince, a slender dark man .

But again, they had halted. The Nith, which lay between themselves and Ballaggan, ran unusually fast and high at their feet, andan outrider who drove his horse in at the ford thudded out again, wet to the stirrups.

Culter was studying the river with some misgiving. "I doubt the women oughtn't to try..

For answer, Hunter dropped down the bank and himself rode into midstream. The horse staggered a little with the force, foam gathering at its hocks, but after a moment mastered its footing and stood firm. He called, "They can't get wetter than they are already. Put a line of horse upstream to break the current. I'll come back and lead you over..

He splashed back, and giving decorous permission, Agnes was lifted up into Lord Culter's saddle where he held her firmly, lefthanded, the reins in his right. The prince, repigmented instantly from black to brown, pressed his horse into motion while the she-lamb, cheek to chest, approved the even beats of his heart. The impartial grip redoubled; the horse entered the water, and the heiress closed her eyes.

Discomfort claimed her. The saddle poked and prodded; the powerful feet threw up s.n.a.t.c.hes of spray, and she was rubbed, p.r.i.c.ked and jagged by Culter's unaccommodating attire. He began moreover to talk to the horse. Mild resentment overtook her.

When they were halfway over, there was a sickening lurch. Culter exclaimed sharply; the pommel drove sharply into the girl's side and briefly the sky was made, blackly, of a shaking, arched mane. Then horse, rider and heiress fell, stirrups free, and in a bruising splash of colliding bodies, Agnes Berries. .h.i.t the water. Wrenched from penastral dreams she became Lady Berries, just thirteen years old, and screamed and screamed with choking, soundless hysteria as the current spun her in rough fingers and shot her, buoyed up by petticoats, straight down the Nith.

Intense cold, and a weight pulling her down. Waterlogged hair, like a curtain of weed on her face, filtering air bubbles through a throat choked with water. A seething clamour in the head and a bubbling voice-her own.

A gasping voice-someone else's. Then a hand, shuddering with effort, in her armpit, and another hand ripping the cloak from her throat, wringing her hair off, exposing her face. An agony of air; an interval of b.u.mping and pressure that hurt, and then of retching that hurt worse, her cheek pressing on mud. And then, at last, she hearda voice clearly. "My G.o.d, w~ need practice at that. Shall we do it again?" said Lord Culter.

2. A Knight Wins an Exchange

They put her to bed, wrapped in woollens, and she slept, weak and full of hot milk, until the daylight had gone.

Below, in the overornate hail, Lord Culter lay in a lugged chair, displaying collected impa.s.sivity once more, bathed and with his cuts dressed, and wearing a loose gown borrowed from Sir James Douglas, their host.

For they were in a Douglas household, instead of Hunter's elegant, exhausted estate of Ballaggan. Alone and without help, Richard had brought Agnes Berries ash.o.r.e: his own men were upstream and Andrew Hunter, far ahead, had been deaf to his shouts. But afterward, warned by the commotion, he had raced to their aid, wrapped the girl in his own cloak and carried both swimmers to Drumlanng, the cavalcade following. Ballaggan was nearly an hour's journey away and could wait. These two could not.

The house of Drumlanrig was full of Douglases, and whether sincere or not, their welcome was a suitable blend of shock and cordiality. From Lord Culter they heard simply that his horse had put his near hind in a pothole; but listening to Hunter they were left in no doubt that Richard had saved the girl's life.

Downstairs the owner of Drumlanrig had demanded the whole tale yet again for his wife's two brothers, the Earl of Angus and Sir George Douglas. Sly and splendid as a hall-tamed leopard, Sir George had smiled; and the Earl, lissom Royal lover of thirty years ago lost in alcoholic fat and spa.r.s.e beard, had been free if trite with his compliments.