The Game Of Kings Part 20

She studied the girl. Mariotta, hanging grimly to her temper, gazed back. "I have good news of you," remarked Lady Hunter. "You haven't the bones for it, but that can't be helped. None of the Craw-fords would make more than a hen-sparrow. When will it be?.

Mariotta's face was pink with controlled emotion. She said politely, "In the spring.""Hum. Richard pleased?.

"Yes. Of course..

"He will be. Hah! Sybilla. That's two lives between Lymond and the money. You'll be happy now, I dare say..

Mariotta, supposing herself dismissed, returned to her seat with an expressive glance at the Dowager who said mildly, "We were all perfectly merry before, so far as I know. I can't say I ever considered the matter in a racial light, but it will be nice to have babies about again. You ought to prod Dandy a little: it's high time he got married. It would do you good to nurse something other than that smelly terrier of yours..

Lady Hunter's brittle fingers played with her rings. "In these days of opportunism, Andrew has little to commend him to an heiress, either in fortune or appearance. Unlike his brother..

Forgetful, Mariotta contradicted. "Oh, surely not? He has everything to recommend him. . . . There must be pretty girls by the score who'~l give the nails off their fingers for him..

"Oh, yes. Plenty of those. Ballaggan can't afford that kind, however," said Lady Hunter. "Pretty girls with no dowry are for the hedgerow, not the altar. We are not all as fortunate as Richard..

"Dear Catherine: yes," said the Dowager. How lucky that we are all rich and beautiful. Otherwise we should be so affronted. Do you drink everything in those bottles?" And the conversation was safely transferred to physics, and from there to herbs, on which the old lady was expert and, in her own acid way, entertaining.

Mariotta listened, more interested than she had hoped to be; Agnes, within reach of a lethargic Cavall, amused herself by parting its fur idly with her slippers; and neither did more than give fair ballast tothe conversation until the Dowager, gauging swiftly the amount of time to be filled before Sir Andrew might come, got to her feet saying something bantering about vaults.

The bite returned to Lady Hunter's voice. "If you were bedridden as I am, Sybilla, you wouldn't care for all the affairs of the household to lie about for servants to read. As I've told you before, these recipes are worth money: there is no call to be careless with them. The keys are behind you..

The Dowager disappeared, and after a sizable interval returned in time to disentangle Mariotta from an appalling inquisition into the state of the linen at Midculter. With her she brought the promised book of recipes, which lasted safely until Sir Andrew came m.

Mariotta, watching him, found her defences rising on his behalf. She knew him already as a kind and ready confidant. No one, looking at the fine hands and good carriage, could say he was uncomely; no one listening to the warmth of his voice could find him displeasing.

... Poor Dandy.

The evening pa.s.sed and then, as the invalid slept early, they went their separate ways. But not before Mariotta contrived to have a word with Dandy alone.

In his private study, he installed her gently in front of the fire. "Two minutes; and then I'm going to pack you off to bed. So you finally broke the news to Richard?.

"About the baby? Yes, Dandy. With magnificent results. For a week now, no air is pure enough and no whim too foolish for the mother of a Culter..

"And the presents are still coming?.

Mariotta nodded, and touched a small and very fine string of pearls around her neck. "They just appear in my room." A nervous giggle overtook her. "Lymond can't know yet about the baby. What am I supposed to do? I've no way of returning them..

Sir Andrew got up and, crossing to the fire, kicked the logs with his boot. "Mariotta, my heartfelt advice is to tell Richard about it. I'm willing to help all I can, but you must know how he'd feel if he thought you felt driven to confide in someone outside the family, no matter how well-intentioned we both are. And this business of Lymond is serious." He turned and said soberly, "Tell him, my dear. It need cost you nothing: you have, surely, all the jewels that you want and you, of all people, have had a chance of judging exactly what the Master is..

waiting, Sir Andrew of a sudden looked sharply at the girl's face. Then she said, playing with the pearls, "He isn't unattractive, Dandy. If he hadn't been forced into outlawry by a single mistake, all those years ago"A single mistake! Do you know how many died and how many were taken prisoner at the battle of Solway Moss?" exclaimed Hunter with sudden savagery. "Do you know how many years he had been spying for England before that? That when the secret leaked out they got him safely to London and Calais to save him from hanging? That when the French caught him and he was freed by Lennox he served Wharton and Lennox for years until they found he was cheating them too, and he had to turn mercenary abroad? Tell Richard, tell him quickly, and let him look after Lymond. All we both want is to see you safe and happy..

For a moment Mariotta continued to twist the necklace. Then she got up, with a sudden impatience that made Hunter step back. "Surely there's some way out of it other than setting them at each other's throats? . . . Oh, never mind! But I doubt very much who's going to be safer and happier if Richard finds out about all this . .

said Mariotta.

2. A Queen's Knight Fails Signally to Adjust

A letter lay on the round, cypress table in the parlour at Bogle House.

Christian knew it was there. Pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing, she was aware of it; it sat among her innocent and mundane thoughts like a tiger among peahens. In all Stirling, none was gladder or more relieved than Christian when at nightfall on the 23rd the yard exploded into life and Lord and Lady Culter, the Dowager, Agnes Herries and all their formidable train arrived.

Agnes pounced. "Another letter! From Jack?.

"Jack?" said the Dowager, turning.

"Jack Maxwell. I wrote him we'd be in Stirling for Christmas." And she broke the seal and read it, standing. "Christian! he says will I answer him as usual, but he may be with me before I get a reply . . . he means to come to Stirling!.

"Does he say so in English?" inquired Christian warily.

"Yes, as plain as can be. Listen!" said Agnes.

Christian heard her read, thanking heaven for the child's verse-infested mind which saw nothing strange in the outrageous metaphor in which her messages were wrapped. He had managed, she gathered, to eliminate one of the two men he must see, and was in train of seeing the other. A suitable moment, obviously, to break off the correspondence; to snap the whole tenuous link; for Johnnie Bulb, former ally and messenger, seemed now to avoid her.

So a curious, painful episode in one's life bid fair to end. But she had to admit that, whatever it purpose, the dignities of happiness had transformed Lady Herries.

* * *That night, snow fell on the Lowlands, and Stirling woke to its Christmas Eve bowered in white above grey river and eye-aching plain. Against tender blue the distant hills gave eye for candid eye with the sun, and above castle and Palace the griffins sat, capped and chaliced in snow.

Warmed by the snow and melted by the season, Mariotta sought early for her husband and found he had left the house, no one knew why. While sharing her bafflement with the Dowager, the thought struck Mariotta. She marched to Sybilla's inlaid French cabinet and flung it open.

The top drawer was empty.

"It's gone!" said Richard's wife, spinning around, her violet eyes black. "The glove we found at the Papingo has gone. Richard's taken it-on Christmas Eve, on his own, without a word to any of us- our fine, cold, bra.s.s-blooded hero has taken it to try and trace Lymond..

* * *Culter had indeed taken the glove, but had not carried it far.

The bullion with which it was decorated must have been supplied by a goldsmith; and since some time today he must call at Patey Liddell's for the completed miniature of his mother, he took the glove with him to Patey's, and left very early so as to be back before Mariotta missed him.

Patey was not yet up. After an interminable amount of banging, a moplike head thrust itself from a top-story lattice and Patey's voiceyapped~ "Chap away: I'm as deif as a board-oh! It's yc~rself, my lord. Wait you, and I'll be down..

Below in the shop, a purple robe over his nightgown, Patey handed over the miniature, not without an involved search, and after pocketing the outrageous cost of it, bent over the glove Richard produced. He held it at arm's length and smirked at it.

"The bonny piece! The bonny, bonny stonewark!" He tapped the twinkling cuff with a threadlike finger. "You wouldna get finer gin you took an elephant down Spittall Street and got off at Colombo. Man! They went at a bargain, too: I could have got twicet for them..

The glove, flicked from his surprised grasp, arrested his attention. "Have you seen this before?" demanded Culter in a controlled shout.

Patey was astonished, but ready to oblige. "No, no. I havena seen the work before, of course not; it isn't mine. But I supplied the bullion and the gems. I'm maybe not an Admiral on the side like Chandler of London, or so handy with a knife as yon Italian fellow, but I've got jewels like peevers and I ken them like weans. .

His client was talking again. Patey listened hard. "Who ordered it? Now, hold you there and I'll tell you." The great ledger came out, and Patey after a methodical search for his spectacles, pored over it. The index finger trailed down page after page and then stopped. "There you are!" He reversed the book for Lord Culter to see. "Ordered by Waugh, the St. Johnstone glover, on October the second..

"Where do I find this Waugh?.

Patey's crusty eyes opened. "Are ye for going there? Well . .

He tipped a packet of sand on the counter, drew a map with a sable and furnished its landmarks with jewels. "There..

Richard thanked him and left. As he remounted, Patey climbed the stairs back to bed, t.i.ttering under his breath. "And a right merry Christmas to ye," said Patey to the air.

* * *The city of Perth, or St. Johnstone's, is only thirty-three miles to the northeast of Stirling; but not a pleasant ride when the moors are humped with new snow and your adored and incalculable wife is looking to you to attend her at her first Christmas at Court.

Lord Culter, riding alone and fast, reached Perth before midday. Once through the heavily guarded main gate, he dropped his pace toa walk, and steered the mare through a bustling and nervously armed High Street, past Cross and pillory, chapels and churches, Kirkgate and tenements and expensive houses with neglected gardens dating from the years when capital and Parliament were both in the city. But when he reached Glovers' Yard, the booth was quite obviously closed and the windows shuttered above it.

Richard Crawford had not stopped for a meal on his way north; he was disturbed, cold and hungry. He hitched his mare to an iron hook and, taking his riding whip, began on the left side of the yard and beat methodically on every door until he finished on the right.

At the end of this operation, several bonneted, capped, tufted and indignant heads stuck in echelon, like heads from a dovecote from the three sides, and voided venomous complaints on his head. He stepped back and addressed the most responsible-looking, a blotched and stubbled gnome who listened, spat accurately on the cobbles and grinned, displaying horrid yellow teeth. "Jamie Waugh's no in. You'll not catch Jamie Waugh wasting his time inside on a holiday..

"Where is he then?" asked Richard, to the interest of a sweliing audience.

The yellow teeth displayed their stalwart abundance again. "I wouldna just trust myself to say," said the aged one eggily. "Forbye, it wouldna be the least bit use to ye. Jamie Waugh never works on a holiday..

"I don't want him to work!" shouted Richard, trying to throw his voice two storeys up and no farther. "I only want to talk to the man..

"D'you tell me? Well, I'm glad for ye that you've saved your time," said Yellow-teeth serenely. "For you'd have just wasted your temper looking for him. Ye canna expect to speak to Jamie Waugh on a feast-day: he's aye deid drunk on a feast-day, is Jamie..

"I can sober him," said Richard grimly. "Just tell me where I can reach him..

"Sober him!" As if the words had touched off a hydraulic, Alexandrine weight the projecting heads gave a unified jerk and set themselves nodding. The ancient one looked sadly at his lords.h.i.+p. 4'Sober! You'll not see him sober till Twelfth Night, nearabouts. Jamie's the st.u.r.dy boy for the drink..

There was a short silence. Richard was thinking, and the aged one was weighing him up with a rheumatic eye, setting the obviousurgency of his quest against the cut of his lords.h.i.+p's clothes. When he spoke again, his voice had a croon in it.

"Mind you, I'm not saying he couldna be sobered. I'm just saying it's never been tried. And while I doot there's a soul in the Yard could tell you rightly where to find Jamie-Janije being incapacitated to clients at Christmas, ye understand-I would be willing to stretch a point for a gentleman. You look," said Yellow-teeth, with a certain facility, "like a sporting gentleman to me, and that's a grand wee dirk at your belt. Forbye you claim you can sober Jamie. Aweel, I'll gie you his location at the price of a wager. I'll lay you a ~>air of gloves against your dirk that you canna bring him back to this Yard by St. Stephen's Day normal-or as near normal as G.o.d made him. Now. There's a fair proposition before witnesses, and a wee frolic to tell the wife about, and anyway," he ended practically, "there isn't a soul else can direct you to Jamie..

Richard folded his arms and stared at the artless one. A glance at the Yard had shown him he could expect little help from there. The proposition was ludicrous: at any other time he would have dealt with it promptly and sharply. But time was against him. He swore under his breath, and then said curtly, "All right. I accept your wager. Where is he?.

He had to wait until the aged one, disappearing and re-emerging at a lower door, took fond and personal custody of his knife ("just a formality") before he received his answer. h.o.r.n.y hands picking and stroking at the jewelled hilt, the old man said, "Aye, aye. I kent ye were a gentleman. You bring Jamie Waugh back sober, and I'll have dirk and gloves set out for you. He's at his sister's house in the Skinnergate," said Yellow-teeth, retreating strategically within his doorway. "The fifth on the right going down. Merton's the name. Merton..

Richard, unwilling amus.e.m.e.nt in the grey eyes, put a foot in the stirrup and swung himself on the mare again. "Merton of the Skinner-gate. Thank you. And your own name, sir?.

"Me?" The teeth yawed. "You're easy named a stranger: every St. Johnstone's man kens Malcolm-Chuckie-moued Malcolm, that's what they cry me. Malcolm Waugh at your service, sir; faither o' Jamie of that ilk, and an honest, sober man to be cursed with yon loose black glover. Good luck to ye, sir! I'll keep the dirk safe! Trust me, sir!.

Richard turned his horse out and suddenly laughed aloud, as windows popped shut and the peace of Christmas Eve descended again on Glovers' Yard.

Snow had fresh-laundered the Skinnergate; had put new bonnets on its thatched roofs and dressed the stakes in the yards. But the hands and feet of the Skinnergate children had returned the narrow lane to its pristine state of mud and offal, and cold weather or no, the ripe animal smell of the trade hung resonantly abo~it the doors.

The fifth house was easy to find: the Mertons were holding festival, and the rest of adult Skinnergate and most of its children were choked into the single room above the yard, with the overflow jamming the stairs. Jamie Waugh was easy to find also: he was sitting in the fireplace with smoke slowly rising from his skin breeches, singing acceptably through a large earthenware jug upside d(wn on his shoulders. The corners of the room were piled with undressed sheep and calfskins of bold personality, and a young heifer couched in the middle was giving warm seating to four or five men. Beer was in free circulation, and a fat cheerful woman in an ap.r.o.n, whom Richard took to be Mistress Merton, was dispensing winkles from a pot of boiling water and pins from a wooden box.

She had offered Lord Culter a spoonful before the implications of his dress struck her: she blushed, put down the ladle and wiped her hands. "Were you wanting Jock, sir? He's not in the Yard today, but if you'd call tomorrow or the next day .

She seemed a bright, honest person. He told her what he wanted, but not of the bargain perpetrated by Waugh, senior. Her reaction was much the same as that of Glovers' Yard. "Jamie! Oh, Jamie'll not be sober till Candlemas, nearly..

"With your permission," said Richard, "I was proposing to sober him now..

She gave him a doubtful smile. "Well, sir, you're welcome to try," and bending over the happy Mr. Waugh, she pulled the jug off his shoulders. A plump, almond face revealed itself, remarkably like the old man's, with a retrouss~ and rosy nose and ruffled black hair.

"Jamie, there's a gentleman come to see you," said Mrs. Merton. The suffused eye wandered distractedly from Lord Culter to his sister and back again; with a lurch and a jerk, Jamie Waugh got to his feet. "T'horse!" he exclaimed and bending dangerously from the waist, gave Richard a view of the lower hemispheres of two mottledcorneas. Then he folded backward in a quick graceful arch, straightened a little, and declaimed:"Tohorsh, tohorsh, maroyaleesh;Your faesh shtand on the Shtrand.

FulL Twenny-thoushand glitt'ring ShpearshThe King of Norshcommandsh..

Seeing that her brother had reached, if not the end of his repertoire, at least the end of his breath, Mrs. Merton laid a hand on his shoulder, at which he gently folded up and sat on the hearth again. "Jamie. It's someone wants to see you..

Jamie's eyes were fixed on the ashes.

"Here maun I lie, here maun I die," said Mr. Waugh, who seemed to favour verse in heroic form. "By Treachery's falsh guilesh," and laid his cheek morosely on one knee. A tall, thin man pushed through the crowd, and Mrs. Merton went to him. "Oh, Jock! Here's a gentleman wanting to speak urgently with Jamie, and he's just at hi~ very last wink..

Mr. Merton eyed Richard, who told an edited version of the story yet again. "Oh, if ye want to trace a sale, Jamie's the only one that can do it. Think ye can sober him?" said the skinner doubtfully. "I've been merrit twenty year and I've never known him able to speak this side o' Twelfth Night, but maybe coming to it from a fresh airt, as it were, might make all the difference. What were you thinking of?.

"A swim," said Richard. "And I'll need some rope..

The skinner's face webbed itself with leathery wrinkles. "Man, I never knew Jamie in water for twenty year either," he said with callous delight. "G.o.d: it's a great day for the Waughs..

They took the drunk man downstairs between them, and the inhabitants of Skinnergate, winkles and alepot in hand, poured down after. They rollicked down the stair; they lurched singing into the lane in black and merry procession, and they stood on the brink of the swift and icy River Tay as Richard solemnly addressed his victim.

"Mr. Waugh, what I'm about to do is as much for your own good as mine. I hope, when sober, you'll appreciate it." Then, receiving from the ready Mr. Merton a coil of light hemp, he noosed it, slipped and tightened the loop around the glover's waist and to ringing cheers picked Jamie Waugh up in his arms and threw him plump in the middle of the river.

221There was a splash, a yell, and a crunching of gravel; then two knees and a head appeared: Mr. Waugh was reclining on the river bed. Richard pulled gently on the rope. Mr. Waugh rolled over, leaned on his hands, and could be heard swearing vigorously into the waves. Richard pulled again.

Mr. Waugh stood up. "What the - are you -'s doing?" he bawled.

His brother-in-law called in reply, "Come on, Jamie. We've got you roped. You can walk to us, nearly..

Mr. Waugh's reply to this cast even his previous remark in the shade; indeed, he seemed ready to stand practicing vowel sounds in the middle of the Tay till night fell. Mr. Merton, with less patience than Richard, leaned over. He gave a mighty tug at the rope, and the vociferating figure at the end disappeared in a flurry of spume and vituperation. His sister, tears of merriment streaming down her comfortable cheeks, said brokenly, "He'll catch his daith! Better pull him in now, sir. Oh, Jamie!.

They pulled him in. He arrived not only sober but fighting mad, and Mr. Merton, who seemed to be an expert, took him over. The flailing arms were imprisoned in someone else's coat; he was swept back to the house, towelled, reclothed and plied with hot milk. Then Mr. Merton came to the door and nodded to Richard, who came in and sat on a stool before the limp, riled and distrait swimmer. "If you want to blame anyone, blame me," he said pleasantly. "I'm the one who threw you in.

Mr. Waugh rose, bent-kneed, to his feet and was sternly pressed down again by well-wishers. Richard continued. "I'm sorry about it, but I need some information from you, in a hurry, and you won't be out of pocket over it." He threw a small bag, c.h.i.n.king, on the glover's lap. "You can pay the damage to your sobriety pretty quickly with that, and have some left to spend at Pasche, perhaps..

Jamie Waugh opened the bag, and the whole almond face altered. "Man, if it comes up your back again just send word to Jamie, and I'll spend Lent in a stickleback's front parlour. What did you want to know?.

"Something very simple." He threw Lymond's glove on top of the money. "Can you tell me who ordered that?.

The glover's broad, brown fingers fondled the work. "I'll have to look up the books in my shop, sir. But it's my work, right enough.

222I remember it fine. I got the gold for it off Patey Liddell in Stirling." Richard got up. "Can we go to your shop now?.

"Surely, surely." The other laid down his mug, picked up money and glove and made for the door, slapping his sister in pa.s.sing. "I'm off to the Yard for a minute, Jess: be a fine la.s.s and put on the ham for when I'm back; my insides are clapping together and my mon tastes like a haddock's spit-oot." He eyed Richard diffidently. "You'd no care to come back and have a bite with us, sir? It's ham, just; but, man, I tickled her backside day in, day out when she was fattening, and there's not a wrong bit in her..

Lord Culter put a hand on the wiry shoulder. "Jamie Waugh, you can count that ham half gone already..

* * *The early dark began to fall as Richard, with Waugh, returned to Glovers' Yard, and candles in the thick, misted windows patterned the dirty snow below.

Jamie was not one to stand on ceremony. He no sooner set foot on the cobbles, walking smartly by Richard's stirrups, than he flung back his wet head and roared, "Faither!.

Propelled by curiosity, the windows of the court shot up. After a pause, Malcolm Waugh's front window glimmered with an approaching taper; the cas.e.m.e.nt opened, and the erratic parent looked out. "Jamie!.

"Aye: Jamie. I want in to the shop, Faither..