Don Luis rose. He smoothed a curl, rea.s.sured himself of his diamond, and took control of the situation. "But no. It does not value the trouble. You have done all you wish with him now?.

Dudley shrugged and looked at Grey. "More or less..

"Then," said Don Luis, "I would prefer much to return the night to Berwick. I shall take him and his friends, and thus there is no need to waste the food. The hostage affair can also begin en seguida,and the questioning gooder organized, no?" He regarded them vivaciously.

Lord Grey became aware that he was dead tired and another hour of the brilliant sefior would undoubtedly drive him crazy. He said with a sort of upheaval of a sigh, "Well, thefior; if you and your men feel fit to go back, then it would be a great benefit to be rid of the men right away..

Don Luis bowed. "Bueno. If you will then write me an order for Berwick"Of courthe." Grey turned to the desk.

Don Luis watched him for a moment, and then murmured delicately to Dudley, "I fear to beg also the horses from you. The ours were taken and loosed by Sefior Scott, and the his will be needed for him and his men..

Dudley looked doubtful. "Oh. Can't you manage without? We're short of hacks just now..

Don Luis spread his hands. "How manage without? We shall send more from Berwick, and meantime there are lesser mouths to feed..

That at least was true. Dudley gave in, and had a word with the Master of Horse, who left the room.

Don Luis bowed.

Woodward bowed.

Myles bowed.

Grey bowed.

Dudley spoke to someone at the door, and two of Don Luis' men, in brave new jerkins, came in smiling and hauled off the inert figure of Scott.

Clamour from the courtyard told of Scott's men being tied to their own horses; of new horses being brought for the Spaniard's troop.

"I depart," said Don Luis maguificently. "For the hospitality, for the food, for the beer, for the horses, for the clothing, a million embracings. My dear lord; my dear sir; my dear gentlemen..

Everybody bowed again.

"Adios!" said Don Luis, and left the room.

* * *Long after the last rider had pa.s.sed the portcullis, when all at last was still and Lord Grey was preparing for bed, Dudley came, yawning, to share a last cup of wine with him.

"That d.a.m.ned Don!" They laughed a little, thinking of the tar and feathers. Dudley stretched.

At that moment, the wagon with the culverins blew up.

It was much later when they thought of checking the second wagon. The beer barrels were intact, but contained only brackish water, and one of them a slip of paper, which read pontifically, No es todo oro lo que reluce.

"All is not gold that glisters," translated Mr. Myles, coming into his own at last.

For a long time they digested the implications in silence. Then Dudley said, rather dazedly, "They were all impostors. . . . Don Luis. Who was he?.

Grey stared thoughtfully at the smoking wreck of the opposite wall. "I don't know. But I propothe to dithcuth thith night'th work thoon with William Thcott of Kincurd..

They retired, but not, it is certain, to sleep.

* * *The long string of hors.e.m.e.n was far away from Hume, driving westward, when the moon came up. The need for hard riding made talking impossible for the first ten miles, though a knife, tossed silver from horse to horse, let Scott and his ten men cut their lashings. Far ahead of the others, Lymond rode in tawny velvet. He had taken off the black wig, but Scott glimpsed his hair, paler than ever above the dyed skin: the nearest view he had had of him since accepting that vicious blow on the face.

He was beaten to the knees, and knew it.

Riding knee to knee with the Cleg, one of the ten whom his own recklessness had nearly killed, he had muttered some sort of apology.

The Cleg had received it with no more than his usual vacant good humour.

"Marry, man, that's just the way it goes," he'd said. "The Maister gave us our choice-twa-three hours in jail with you, he said, or ride bare-a.r.s.ed with him an' get a new set o' clothes for it; and mindin' I catch cold easy, I chose to come wi' you. Not but what," he said warmly, "I never saw a loon put up wi' all what you put up wi', for a scatterbrain scheme like yon. They must have fair bashed the brains out o' ye..

Scott covered a burning eye with one hand. "You mean Lymondtold you I'd be asking for volunteers to go to Hume with me?" It was, of course, impossible. He had only decided yesterday to contradict Lymond's own express orders not to go to the castle.

The Cleg said, "Ay, like I told you. He gave us all our choice, an' told us forbye you'd maybe not let on the plan to us, as you'd likely take a fair bashing." He smiled cheerfully. "I ken you dma think we'd keep our mouths shut, but ye'll admit we did ye proud the day..

"You did indeed," said Scott, and turned his head away from the ungrudging admiration in the Cleg's eyes.

At ten miles, they overtook Mat with the pack horses, Lymond's own bunch of riding hacks, their clothes, and the remaining cart: the genuine English prisoners were already, Scott gathered, on their way, bound, to Meirose-the job ostensibly given to himself.

In the short breathing s.p.a.ce before they set off again, Scott dismounted and, moving stiffly, walked forward to where Turkey and the Master were having a brief conversation.

"S'wounds," said Mat. He eyed Scott's face. "It looks to me as if someone has sat on our William..

The Master turned, pa.s.s.e.m.e.nterie glittering. He might have changed s.e.x, so complete was the change from the haughty, choleric Don.

"Barbarossa! We are covered with admiration. An actor manqu~, my dear, to convince them so thoroughly that you expected to perish directly. You have had," he said inquiringly, "a little accident to the mouth?.

Busy as they were, the men around them were not deaf: the nearest, taking the remark at its face value, grinned sympathetically at Scott. It was obvious they had all known of the double plan-except him. Obvious, too, that they a.s.sumed to a man that he knew as well.

So there it was. First, corporal punishment, carefully applied. Next, spiritual chastis.e.m.e.nt-and not the obvious, open ridicule. Not with Lymond. Instead, the dreadful humiliation of accepting his own reputation, intact, from the chastising hand. That, and the corollary that Lymond found him so inconsiderable that he could cheerfully add to his stature.

What now? Reject the heroic role Lymond had prepared for him? He could explain that the Master had goaded him into a private attempt to take Grey: had made an opportunity for him to do it; had foreseen that he would bungle it; and had in fact based his entire plan on that certainty . . . and on the genuineness of the apprehension that he, Scott, would betray inside Hume. He could easily say all that,and earn himself the biggest guffaw since Cuckoo-spit hooked his own ears at the salmon.

Young Scott heaved a long sigh, and meeting the sardonic blue eye, said flatly, "Not an actor, an apprentice . . . but I hope to learn. And one day to be able to play without the gift of a p.a.w.n..

The glittering eyes appraised him. "Certainly. But next time take care, or you may be receiving the Bishop, with appropriate rites. Any questions?.

One puzzle still nagged. "How," asked Scott, "did you know that the leader of the supplies would be Spanish?.

The Master raised weary eyebrows. "He wasn't..

That was all the conversation he ever had on the subject; and soon they were safely back at their tower. Drinking went on for two days after the barrels were broached; and Will Scott made a point of surfacing into sobriety as little as possible.

Amid the brawling, dancing, chorusing and squabbling, he was aware of Lymond, totally and grossly drunk, with the tawny velvet creased and stained with beer and food. He appeared to be in amatory mood, and was singing long Spanish love songs to his own accompaniment on the guitar.

Forced Movefor a Minor PieceEfter also yis pownis first movingFrome poynt to poynt ye course furth sail bring,And never pa.s.s to poynts angularBut sa it be to sla his adversarThe quhilk is lyk, be his pa.s.sing yan,In anguler wyss, to spuize sum pur man.

A NEWS will, news of the hoax at Hume got out.

By breakfast time on the second day, a kind of collective sn.i.g.g.e.r, moving downwind from the castle to Edinburgh and points west, betrayed the progress of the story: the discovery of the entire English troop bound and frozen outside Melrose Abbey swelled the sn.i.g.g.e.r to a belly laugh.

Sir George Douglas, breakfasting in his castle of Dalkeith seven miles south of Edinburgh, got word of it with his quails and became unusually thoughtful.

Thoughtfully, he allowed himself to be dressed and barbered, his beard trimmed, his lounging robe slipped over discreet Swiss shirt. Thoughtfully, he opened the tower door which led out of his bedchamber and climbed twenty steps to his private study, where a dishevelled-looking person was waiting. He shut the door. "Forgivethe delay. I cannot always receive the Lord Protector's messages as freely as I should wish..

The rain was driving against the exposed tower window: the man's outer clothes were sodden. He pushed back his hood, revealing a close cap fitting from eyebrows to ears, and said courteously, "I am sure his Grace would be unhappy to think otherwise, Sir George..

This was a trifle near the mark for a messenger, but Douglas had his mind on other things. He said briefly, "I must confess, as matters now stand between myself, Lord Grey and the Protector, I had not expected to hear from London yet..

"How providential," said the hatted one comfortably, "that you didn't on that account have me stopped at the gate. So fickle are statesmen. Today the palace, tomorrow the oubliette and the elegiac distich..

This time, Sir George turned his full attention on the stranger. "If you have a dispatch, sir, I should be glad to see it..

"In a way I have," said the other cheerfully. "Je suis oiseau: voyez mes ailes. And then again, in a way I haven't. Je suis souris; vivent les rats. What I have is worth hearing, though. Shall I read it to you?" And he pulled from his coat a creased bundle of papers. "Here we are. Rather long, but I'll spare you the clay and disinter the lotus. For example-" And picking out a page, he read quickly aloud.

"'Sir George Douglas, the laird of Ormiston, and two of the Humes have been here, Douglas coming as a Borderer to serve the King. . . . I reminded him of his benefits from the late King, and threatened him if he revolted again, I should pursue him and his friends to the death. He answered he would advance the marriage, and promised to draw his brother and the rest clean from the Governorand to do his utmost to put the Queen in our hands, if requited in England for his lands-which I have guaranteed with my own lands. I have resolved to prove him, and if he does not keep his promise, the very next day Coldingham shall down, and himself smart font"Postscript- Oh," said the stranger disingenuously, turning over the last page. "I remember. I left the postscript with my friends, although that was rather interesting too. What do you make of it all?.

What Sir George thought was soon forthcoming. With undisturbed calm, he drew his gown about him, and seating himself negligently near the door, remarked, "I should guess this to be a somewhat naYve effort at blackmail. I a.s.sume that unless I pay you a large sum of121money, and release you unharmed, your friends will send the original to the Scottish court..

"Well, at least you seem to know what it's all about," said the reader, refolding the papers. "The extract is, of course, copied from a dispatch from Lord Grey to the Protector, and I am sure you are about to take the wind from my sails by telling me that the Queen Dowager knows all about it..

If alarmed by this perspicacity, Sir George gave no sign. "She does, of course..

"Quite. But even if I believed that-which I don't-I still think you might be interested in seeing that postscript. It does exist, you know. So does the copy. I'm King of the Fidlers and swear 'tis a truth. You can have them all for a nominal price..

"And the nominal price?.

"You have an English prisoner called Jonathan Crouch," remarked the blackmailer, affably, and was interrupted by Sir George himself, showing the first signs of animation.

"Dear me!" he said. "You seem to be a remarkably subterranean young man. I took such a prisoner, yes; although it is not generally known..

"Let me see him and you may have the report..

There was a short pause. The offer was nicely put. No one, however reinforced by his sovereign's complicity, could be expected to resist the lure of a postscript devoted to his own affairs in an English dispatch. That the postscript existed he felt sure: the fellow was too d.a.m.nably pat with the rest. Ergo, by falling in with the suggestion, he was admitting to no more than natural curiosity: a subtle and far from fortuitous point.

There was a further consideration. He did not particularly care that this dispatch should reach the Queen. And there might be others which he would care about even less. At this point in his meditations Sir George cleared his throat. "You appear to take monumental measures for a very simple end. A man of your resource would prefer, I should have thought, to use his powers of . . . interception for a more rewarding cause." He slipped the cabuchon ruby off his thumb and tossed it on the table between them.

"Fools make news, and wise men carry it. You could become a rich man..

"I am a rich man," said his visitor. He fixed a cool eye on the Douglas, disregarding the ring. "As you, I am sure, are a busy one. If122therefore our bargain is concluded, perhaps Mr. Crouch might be bought here..

There was nothing else for it. Sir George said regretfully, "I am afraid I cannot keep my side of the bargain. A matter of some disappointment to me. The gentleman you mention was sold to a friend of mine some time ago." He added kindly, "If it will serve, I can direct you to him and even enable you to enter the house, if you wish..

A pause developed, and prolonged itself to uncomfortable lengths. Then, unexpectedly, the other laughed. "Oh Douglas, oh Douglas, Tender and true . . . I am moved to respect. Very well. The bargain stands. Tell me the name of your friend, and you shall have your doc.u.ments..

Sir George rose, crossed to his desk, and tossed a paper from it into the other's hands. On the one side was a signed note from Sir Andrew Hunter, promising payment of one hundred crowns for the person of Mr. Jonathan Crouch; on the other was a scrawled note in Hunter's handwriting. It said, For our friendship, send me word if there is an attempt to trace Crouch. I would not lose him to enemies before I can exchange him for my cousin.

His visitor read both sides and smiled. "You weigh your scales generously. Thank you..

Sir George said, retrieving the paper, "Of course, I cannot as a gentleman ignore the note. I propose to send one of my secretaries to Ballaggan, with a fairly large escort, to warn Sir Andrew that a stranger has indeed inquired about Crouch. Hunter keeps a well-guarded house, but it is not always possible to make sure that, in the confusion of entering, a party such as mine might not become larger than it should be . . . a common risk, I fear, in these times..

"Yes. Oh, indeed, I am quite aware of the risk," said the other, and a long, slow smile pleated the skin around his mouth.

Sir George found himself for some reason smiling back. For an instant he was overcome with an extraordinary feeling of kinship for this odd sharp-witted person. Borne on the tide of this sensation, he said, "Then to seal our bargain, will you drink with me? I have a very fine claret to hand . .

His visitor a.s.sented politely, adding, as Sir George crossed to the armory, "Although I trust you have nothing against beer?.

"On the contrary," said Sir George, pouring with an antic.i.p.atory hand.

"Because-your health-" said the other, "I took the liberty of leaving a hogshead for you with your Chamberlain below. A little stirred up, I'm afraid; but it should settle." And, understanding each other very well, the eyes of the two men met; Sir George's alight with evocative delight.

Left alone after bidding his anonymous friend goodbye, Douglas returned to the study and stood for a moment, playing absently with the ruby where it lay on the table. "Well, I shan't make that mistake again..

He slipped it back on his finger and gazed at it for a moment. "But if he doesn't fancy bullion, what sort of bait is he going to take, this wild cormorant, this acidulous osprey of ours? Something. There must be something he wants. And whatever it is, by G.o.d, I'll find it and make a collar and chain of it with 'Douglas' in fine Gothic letters on the neck..

* * *The spirit of Ballaggan Keep, imperious, impervious, implacab~, brooding over its fastness like a tribal mascot, was Dame Catherine, Sir Andrew's mother.

Catherine Hunter was rising seventy, and crippled in her lower limbs to a degree which condemned her to bed or chair for life. This, together with the loss of her husband at Elodden and the death shortly afterward of a brilliant older son, had turned the wines of her palmy days-already rather a variable commodity-into a corked and vinegary brew.

The keep, tall, gauche and of no particular charm for the pa.s.ser-by, was stuffed inside with the prizes of Lady Hunter's epicurean eye. No rushes covered the floors: these were set with Spanish azulejos and covered with rugs from Turkey and the Levant. The beds were wrought and gilded, and hung with heavy taffetas; the chests and tables in marble and scented woods wore tapestry cloths and carried a pellicle of Aldine folios. Other specimens of her library shared bedside honours with her Maltese terrier Cavall.

The accretion of all these aids to graceful living would have taxeda larger estate than Ballaggan. Lamentably aware that-even if goldmines sprang beneath his feet, like Olwen's trefoils-his mother'sfancy would still outpace him, Sir Andrew was sometimes reduced toa state of nervous irritation very close to rebellion. That he invariablyspared her either complaint or reproach labelled him a soft mark among his fellow knights and earned him a solid revenue of womanly sympathy.

It also brought him the admiration of Mr. Jonathan Crouch, whose temporary career as a prisoner of war, or a sort of promissary note on two legs, had brought him finally to lodge with Sir Andrew.

With Mr. Crouch came his tongue, his teeth, his lips, his hard and soft palate, his maxillary muscles, larynx, epiglottis and lungs: all the apparatus which enabled him, ne plus ultra, to talk. Like the enchanted garden of Jannes, tenanted by daemons, the keep of Ballaggan encased the ceaseless drone of Mr. Crouch's voice. He droned through September until it and his captors were exhausted; then pounced on October with undimmed vigour and worried the blameless days for a fortnight.

By the middle Sat.u.r.day of the month, atrophy had set in, reaching its nadir in the dead time between two and four, when Sir Andrew, whatever business was pressing, visited his mother's room to sit with her. Lady Hunter, strutted upright with pillows, was brushing the terrier rhythmically as it lay cushioned across her knees. Her face, bewigged and topped by a hooped pearl cap, had the skin of an invalid and her mouth, lightly whiskered, was hatched, above and below, with the spidery wrinkles forced by powerful lips. Her black eyes were fixed unwinkingly on her son, who in turn was directing his aquiline profile, with an air of polite attention, toward Mr. Crouch.

Mr. Crouch, wittily obese like a middle-aged t.i.tmouse, sat enthroned on his stomach, giving tongue. Incidents of his boyhood surged to cataclysmic peaks of pointlessness. Episodes from his career in the Princess Mary's household explored tedium to its petrified core.

"Never," said Mr. Crouch, pulling himself out of a frenzy of adjectives, "never shall I weary of describing it, if I live to be a hundred. That I won't..

Something like a strong shudder pa.s.sed over his host. Almost involuntarily Sir Andrew said, "By the way, are you married, Crouch?.

If the t.i.tmouse was surprised, it was also pleased. It beamed. "Why, yes sir, I am; and what's more, G.o.d and my Ellen have blessed me with six lovely children; every one a girl, but the Lord will provide. I've had my share of adversity, sir; but as I always say, the way I met my Ellen goes to show that Providence is on our side; as you'll agree when you hear the full story which, since you so kindly ask, I shall have great pleasure in relating to you in due course." There wasa brief pause, during which Sir Andrew shut his eyes; then Mr. Crouch-his intention duly filed and registered-picked up the limp threads of his monologue. "And then-.-.

"Andrew!.

"Yes, Mother?" said Sir Andrew. He shot an apologetic look at the soloist, who broke off politely but providently took a fresh breath.

"The people with whom you have contracted to buy fish have been cheating you for five weeks," said Lady Hunter, brushing steadily at the terrier's coat. "The fish served to me while you were away on whatever business you discovered was not only bad, but often putrid. Putrid!" she repeated, with horrid inflection. "Yet it seems a relatively simple matter to arrange..

Mr. Crouch, a kindhearted person, shut his mouth and fiddled with his points. Sir Andrew said, "Mother, you should have mentioned it before. I'd no idea, of course. I'll have it put right..

"You were hardly visible long enough to listen," remarked Lady Hunter, brushing. "You must forgive me for imagining you were much too busy. The wool coming in for spinning, incidentally, has not improved in quality. Whatever steps you took about that seem to have been baulked by another agency. You must tell me if you are finding things a little difficult, Andrew," pursued the lady. "After all, no mother expects both her sons to be alike. Dear Andrew," she said, fixing her black stare on Crouch and brushing still, "is going to be a great help to me in my old age..

"I'm sure, Mistress," said the t.i.tmouse, glancing uncomfortably at his host's submissive head. And from his good-natured soul he added, "And he did you honour in the fighting last month, I'll be bound..