Gemini (84 page)

The Preceptor set out the cups. Done without servants, it looked friendly. His round Scots voice sounded friendly. Regarding his height and military bearing, men were reminded quite often of England’s King Edward, although the Preceptor was five years older, and his hair was black and not fair. But both had the same middle-aged corpulence and the same appetite, evidently, for food and wine and sensual pleasures.

Only, in the Preceptor’s case, the style was deceptive. William Knollys had never seen service on the island of Rhodes: his appointment had required special dispensation because of it. There was no army of Knights
at Torphichen: there had rarely ever been more than one or two, and now there was none but himself, and the vast cohorts of his lay administrators and servants. He courted women and bred children, duly legitimised; but it was done for a purpose: from Aberdeen to the Borders there were men of his name—uncle, brother, four sons—who would act as his henchmen in business and as procurators in his innumerable law cases.

For the affable manner was misleading, too. To administer the vast network of the Hospitallers’ properties; to collect his dues; to run his fleet; to sit in Parliament and on the Council of Judges; to please the King; and keep the Order in check with regular responsions required something more than the simple attributes of a soldier. William Knollys was formidable.

Now he sat down, saluted, drank, and said, ‘Would I support Sandy Albany? No. Would others raise him an army? Only a small one. Am I in touch with him? Yes. I have learned nothing of interest but the fact you have just mentioned. England have sent him an invitation. I have advised him to refuse it. I have told no one else about it. Whether he comes or not will change nothing, in my view, except his own fate. The issue is simply whether the King of England will be foolish enough to raise money and troops and invade. As I said in Parliament, I think that he will.’

Parliament had just met and, prodded by all those who knew, had addressed at last the prospect of serious war, and had provided for it. Nicholas said, ‘I came, of course, to hear your position, and it is as one would expect. England’s plans, however, may change. We have heard from Flanders today. There has been another death in the dukedom. The young Duchess took a bad fall in the hunting field, and has died. The Estates have taken her children, and may refuse her husband the means to go on fighting the French.’

‘In which case,’ said Knollys, ‘the Archduke Maximilian applies to England for help with an immediate, pre-emptive campaign. If England agrees, she will have no time for Scotland. If she refuses, she will.’

‘She’ll refuse. Edward wants to keep his French pension,’ John said.

‘I think so. It means,’ said Nicholas, ‘that information from England will be welcome. The Abbeys are being very helpful, and you have already mentioned hearing from Albany. As you pass between Leighton Buzzard and Clerkenwell, you may hear other items of use.’

‘I have been wondering,’ said William Knollys, ‘why this little conversation is taking place now, instead of at the council table with my usual colleagues. But now I see. You have friends in the Abbey of Newbattle, and especially among the Sinclairs?’

‘Like yourself, my lord, I have friends everywhere,’ Nicholas said. ‘In Newbattle, perhaps, fewer than usual, since they harboured our mutual abomination, David Simpson. No. I have not come to grind a
Newbattle axe; just to ask for your help. Simply, because of the King, news is best gathered outside the Court. If you hear anything, let me know and I shall come.’

‘Or I shall have difficulty with my salmon?’ Knollys said. ‘But then, as a merchant yourself, you must know how prolonged—and expensive—a trade dispute can be. I should hate to incur one simply because there were no secrets to be had.’

‘Fortunately,’ Nicholas said, ‘in my experience, there is always gossip where men are gathered. Did I not hear that one of the late Sultan’s sons has promised the Knights total immunity provided they put him on his father’s throne? Rhodes would become quieter than Scotland then.’

‘I prefer Scotland,’ said Knollys. ‘The conversation is better. I was just about to partake of a meal. Will you join me? I feel we have hardly plumbed our relationship yet.’

At table, thank God, John le Grant found his voice and ended up arguing over Middle Eastern artillery and military architecture, not forgetting Cyprus, Constantinople, or the St Nicholas Tower in Rhodes. On all of these, their statuesque host was sufficiently primed to be challenging: he had, after all, been listening to individual Knights on the subject for fifteen years. When Nicholas deflected the conversation to the present Scottish war, the Preceptor was equally sure of himself. ‘You heard the garrison numbers: too small; but all that can be spared for the Borders.’

‘And yourself?’ Nicholas said. ‘Will you be raising troops?’ The Order had property everywhere. They were overlords, in the west, of Robin’s family.

‘In Aberdeenshire, yes, as I am sure you have heard,’ Knollys said. ‘The rest must wait on events. I have no difficulty in serving under others. I could perhaps help most on the east, but John Darnley is a good choice for West Warden. I hear your St Pols have gone back to Annan and Threave?’

‘My St Pols?’ He said it with amusement.

The Preceptor emitted a kind of sonorous snore. ‘Only through being linked, of course, in notorious dissent. Eck Scougal told me how the lad Henry took your best horses. The colts are back in the stud under guard at the moment: that Liddell land is good grazing, but too tempting for soldiers.’

‘Then, if need be, you move the whole stud?’ Nicholas said. ‘Where?’

‘To various places. I have some of the horses here now. One you would give your eye teeth for. I’m proud of him. Come. Before you go, let me show you.’

The stables were buildings of splendour, and led to the kennels, and the mews. ‘You must come hunting one day,’ the Preceptor said. ‘Once
this Albany nonsense is over.’ Outside, he wore his black robe with the spectacular cross. The great dog at his side nudged against him and he lifted his eyes. A groom, instantly responsive, whistled the animal off.

John le Grant said, ‘Where have I heard that whistle before?’

‘Probably at Blackness,’ the Preceptor said. ‘The Keepers get their dogs here. Lord Cortachy was asking the same. It’s something to remember, I suppose. A Torphichen hound will only respond to one call, and will always remember its master.’

They had reached a gate, at which he turned gravely. ‘I am very pleased that you came to the Preceptory. We have been under the same roof often enough, but it is not until you meet a man in his setting that you know him. Give my regards to our mutual seagoing friends. I hope we shall find our ships in the water next year, and for trading, not fighting.’

‘I hope so, too,’ Nicholas said. John remained polite, also, until they were out of earshot.

Nicholas listened, with half an ear, until they were both on the road. Then he said, ‘I thought you admired him for his cheek.’

‘I’d admire him more if he shed the daft accent. Aberdeen! That’s a man with Norman roots if ever I saw one.’

‘I dare say,’ Nicholas said. ‘But you know how they interbreed with the natives. His grandfather was sheriff of Berwick. The Order’s vessels load there. Their hide and salmon would come equally custom-free under the English.’

‘I know,’ said John, calming. ‘All frontier merchants face every way, and he may do the same. But he doesn’t like Archibald Angus, that I’d swear. And he likes Jamie Liddell’s land in the Mearns a good deal more than he likes Jamie Liddell. I heard that from Julius. Julius thinks Knollys has Liddell watched. And what was that about Davie Simpson?’

‘They were on opposite sides, he and Knollys. Simpson set the Newbattle traders against him.’

‘And Adorne?’ the engineer said. ‘I’ve come to like the man well, but one of his sons is a Knight of St John, and there’s always the thought that the Preceptor might have Adorne in his pocket. They were both lords in Council, remember.’

‘The Preceptor still is,’ Nicholas said. ‘But if he sponsored Adorne, he didn’t appear at his induction. I think Adorne is treading carefully. He does have friends with the Knights, and wants to keep the Pope’s favour: he’s in the middle of juggling Aberdeen prebends again for his sons. But I don’t think he’s in anyone’s pocket.’

‘I’d like to think that,’ said John. ‘Anyway, for what today’s sounding is worth, I doubt if Knollys will risk backing Albany. Scotland’s his personal milch-cow and it’s giving him all that he wants.’ He paused. ‘At the same time, it would do his character no harm to be faced with a hint of a
threat now and then, such as just now. You’re a real treat to listen to, Nicol. And so smooth! Where did you learn it?’

‘Tommaso Portinari,’ Nicholas said. ‘It was before your time. The greatest courtier of the age.’

‘The Medici manager? But—’ began John.

‘I know,’ said Nicholas. ‘Married a girl thirty years younger than himself and went bankrupt. He kept getting painted.’

‘What colour?’ said John. Coming up to a war, John was never gloomy for long.

T
HAT SAME
A
PRIL
, 1482, Alexander, Duke of Albany, brother of the Scots King James, Third of the Name, left France for Southampton in a Scots caravel captained by one Jamie Douglas, and by the fourth day of May was quietly lodged with his servants at the Hospice of the Herber, Thames Street, London, at the King of England’s expense. The King of England had already, at Easter, raised an army of twenty thousand armed men against Scotland, to march north under the Duke of Gloucester his brother. An additional seventeen hundred men were to follow.

On the tenth day of May, King Edward ordered his army to prepare to march north, at fourteen days’ notice.

By the third day of June, King Edward had covered a quarter of the distance to Scotland, arriving with his royal protégé in Northamptonshire, where he was joined at the old family castle of Fotheringhay by his brother Dickon of Gloucester, newly back from a probing raid into western Scotland. Thirty years ago, Dickon had been born here at Fotheringhay. Over three hundred years ago, David of Scotland had owned the castle and all the lands round it. Now, in freshly built rooms, three men drew up a treaty; and King Edward went home. Nine days later, the army resumed its march north under the supreme command of Richard of Gloucester; and by the eighteenth of June, it had arrived at its half-way encampment at York, ready to join its northern contingent.

By then, news of its advance had been carried to Scotland, and the King was immediately told. Neither the public nor the King was informed of the possible implication of Albany. Edinburgh glittered with steel, and Julius hammered on Robin of Berecrofts’s door.

The door was jerked open, not by a servant, but by Nicholas, breathing quickly. Behind him, Robin’s voice died. Julius said, ‘I heard you were here. I have to speak to you, alone.’

The voice behind resumed calling. ‘Really? Can’t you trust even cripples, these days? Take him away, Julius. I expect they’re going to carry me off with the children in any case.’

Nicholas said, ‘He’s drunk. I’m sorry. You’ll have to come in. How bad is it?’

Julius said, ‘Too bad to risk having it known.’ Robin was shouting again.

Nicholas said, ‘I can’t leave him. Come in. It’s what he needs, to know that he’s trusted.’

Julius said, ‘You don’t know what you’re risking.’ He was mortified. Robin and Moriz and John never stopped talking of war. Now it had come, he didn’t see why Berecrofts couldn’t pretend to behave like a man.

Nicholas looked fed up as well, and sounded it when he turned back to Robin. ‘Have you stopped? Julius has come to us for help. It’s a crisis. Do you want to hear, or would I be better off with the bloody children?’

It seemed a bit harsh, but Robin’s voice stopped. Then he said, ‘My cup’s empty.’

‘So it is,’ Nicholas said. He jerked his head, and Julius followed him back into the house, closing doors. Robin looked terrible: his hair wet, his face rigid and white. He was sitting, propped up as usual, and Nicholas was refilling his cup. Nicholas said, without turning, ‘You’ve heard something?’

‘Liddell has heard something,’ Julius said. ‘He’s asked me to pass it to you.’

He saw Robin’s eyes open, and Nicholas himself turned slowly, nursing the flask. He said, ‘He’s realised what you’re doing?’

‘No,’ said Julius. ‘But he trusts me to be discreet. Albany is over from France. The English did invite him, as Kathi heard in the booths, and now he’s marching with Gloucester. He’s asked Liddell to give you a message.’

Robin’s eyes were fixed on Nicholas, and Nicholas glanced down. Then he sat. ‘What?’

‘Albany wants to see you,’ said Julius. ‘In York. He’s told Gloucester how you helped him in Dunbar. Gloucester wants information. What the garrisons are. What support Sandy can expect. How to get rid of the King.’

Robin said, ‘I’m going to be sick.’

‘I think we all are,’ said Nicholas. He got a bowl and held it, helping Robin. He didn’t look as if his mind was on what he was doing. He said, ‘As we thought, then. England has invested in Sandy, but not just to help them take Berwick and one or two castles. He wants the throne, and they’ve promised to help him.’ He put the bowl down and gave Robin a towel and sat again.

Julius said, ‘According to Liddell, Sandy doesn’t know what he wants.’

‘Oh,’ said Nicholas.

Robin said, ‘No.
No
, Nicholas. Jamie Liddell and Sandy are both using you. Sandy can’t make up his mind, and Jamie thinks you will help him. Liddell wanted high office for Sandy, but not fratricide.’

‘A lot of people think the King has committed fratricide,’ Julius said. ‘Albany might get more support than you think. Or maybe you can persuade him to change his mind. He could get back all his old appointments and land, if he left the English. He could ask James for anything.’

‘And the English would kill Nicholas if they dreamed that that was why he had come. No,’ said Robin vehemently. He sounded cold sober, and frightened.

‘No?’ Nicholas said. He wasn’t looking at Julius.