"The same wind blows in the Channel as on the Solway," she said. "No fleet will put out in this weather..

Gideon interposed briefly. "The Protector is asking for action quickly against the Douglases, Lady Lennox..

"And that he shall have," said the woman serenely. "If you will allow me to make a suggestion." She looked up at four, noncommittal faces and smiled. "There was a time when I was a Douglas, and then I became more Tudor than Douglas. Now I am more Stewart than both. Listen..

And she outlined a plan which was bold, practical and, unintentionally, quite formidable in its ultimate effect. In which she showed herself to be, after all, more Tudor and Douglas than Stewart.

* * *With Will Scott at his side, Lymond met John Maxwell briefly by appointment in a bothy of mud and thatch in the hills near Thornhill.

Sitting watching by the bright, whining fire, Scott saw that Maxwell was now handling the other man carefully. He made one flattering reference to the conduct of December's cattle raid, but did not repeat the mistake. He referred also to his meeting with Agnes Herries.

"That goes very well. You were right about the letters. She had already created the mould, and I stepped into it. Not a bad thing. I shall try not to disappoint her..

"What did you make of her?" Lymond asked.

"Your reading was perfectly accurate. She will make an excellent wife-if that were the main issue. And if her marriage were a matter of free choice, I should be Lord Hermes tomorrow. But of course, it's not. I'm afraid it will take more than one cattle raid to shake off Arran. He's determined to have her for his son, and he has a promise on paper.~~"The Queen Dowager is not unsympathetic," remarked Lymond.

"But Arran is Governor..

"And as such is accountable to the French for the fervent persecution of the enemy..

"Arran won't attack: he has neither the stomach nor the power..

"He won't attack; but he'll have to defend, shortly. There's another combined attack from Carlisle and Berwick coming next month..

The pupils in the golden eyes narrowed and expanded. "How do you know that?.

"Spies. I have no direct contact with Carlisle," said Lymond laconically. "If you want my opinion to reinforce your own, then that's your bargain. Throw the Maxwells openly this time against Wharton, and you have the Dowager on your side. She likes the glrl, and she's being pushed for results by her relatives in France as well as by the French Amba.s.sador. Let her persuade Arran for you..

There was a long silence. Then the Master of Maxwell said, "The real deterrent lies with my hostages at Carlisle. If I turn, they may hang. But, as you no doubt will tell me, life is cbeap..

Lymond raised fair brows. "It is another disease that grieveth me.

What I will say is that sentimentality is expensive. Let them hang:it is still a good bargain..

Maxwell said, "I am not so ruthless..

"We might differ about that. . . . But save the Carlisle chickens, and you let the Stirling stables burn..

"Some might feel one hen of a sort was worth twenty horses," said Maxwell.

"And yet you won't get far without horses, be your poultry never so prolific..

Lymond was clearly mocking, and the other switched subjects curtly. "Do you wish to continue the letters to Agnes Herries? We agreed that you should have this channel for messages..

Lymond said, "Let it lapse. I can find other means now, if need be." He rose. "I am grateful for your co-operation. We may still meet, of course. Next month, for example. In spite of your fondness for the chicken ~Maxwell also got up. He hesitated, stooping a little under the low roof, his half-armour fogged with condensation. "There is one piece of news you might find of interest," he said. "It's not the kind I should pa.s.s on to Edinburgh, as the woman is, I suppose, a niece by marriage. .

Lymond's face and ~voice were his first weapons, and he used them consciously with the same control that in his brother kept expression away.

But this time, something new filled the blue eyes; and Scott, sitting forgotten, saw it, and his breathing stopped. Then it was over, and Maxwell, un.o.bserving, was still talking.

"Lennox and Wharton are trying a new gambit this time. The Countess of Lennox is being sent north to Drumlanrig to try and splint together all these burst Douglas loyalties before the army invades..

Lymond said in his accustomed voice, "The Lady Margaret Douglas? Angus's daughter? When is she coming?.

Maxwell shook his head and took up his hat. "I have no other details. But I expect she'll arrive shortly before they march, and wait for her husband. I thought you might be interested..

He turned in the doorway, one hand on the lintel. "Good day to you both. I fancy these meetings will not be to our loss..

"I fancy not," said Lymond dryly; and Maxwell, mounted, leaned down. "You have a nice touch with the Latin tag, but I found theFrench a little indelicate, here and there." And, one of his infrequent smiles lighting the solemn face, the Master of Maxwell rode off.

Scott, straightening from dousing the fire, found Lymond waiting with both horses at the door, his expression angelical. "O rubicund blossom and star of humility! O famous bud, full of benignity! O beautiful Master of Maxwell!.

Scott came out and took his horse. "What's happened, sir?.

"Ce n'est rien: c'est une femme qui se noie," said Lymond, and laughed. "Love Mr. Maxwell, my cherub: he has brought your old age with him today. We require a hostage to exchange for Samuel Harvey. And behold, we have a hostage. My brilliant devil, my imitation queen; my past, my future, my hope of heaven and my knowledge of h.e.l.l . . . Margaret, Countess of Lennox..

PART THREE.

The Play for Samuel Harvey.

Why had he imagined the company to be perpetual? It had been created at Lymond's whim, and was being disbanded by the same lordly hand. . . . Scott took to watching for the return of the weekly messenger to the Ostrich, and he knew before anyone when the word finally came summoning Lymond to the Castle of Wark on the second of June for his portentous meeting with Samuel Harvey.

The Master announced the disbandment the same day in the hall, over the uproar of sixty furious employees. The Long Cleg had the loudest voice. "We dinna want to go. There's no need. We're doing fine. We want to go on..

"By all means. But without me..

"No! You're to stay!.

"And who will make me?.

The thunder increased. "We're sixty to one!" And Turkey had turned from his comfortable seat in the front. "Two, man: two. And I'm the only other one that kens where your pay is..

Lymond s.n.a.t.c.hed the ensuing decrescendo in which to be heard. "If you want to be paid, I'm afraid you must accept it. And even if you don't, you really can't make me stay, can you?.

And, of course, they couldn't. Sardonic to the last, he had surveyed them. "All right. Get out. Think for yourselves for a change. You've been pedlars: go and be merchants. You've been mercenaries: go and find something of your own to defend. You've finished teething and there's the world: crack it open if you can. It's a d.a.m.ned sight p.r.i.c.klier than I am. In any case, whatever you do, keep well clear of me. . .

They were paid, and took their leave, clattering out in twos and threes: Oyster Charlie, the Long Cleg, ~Dandy-puff, Jess's Joe. Turkey and he were last, as Scott knew they would be, because they had special claims. The money for them was in French gold and was in Scott's own custody. But not in the tower.

Dreadjng a homily, Scott was relieved to find that Lymond himself, travelling light, was packing quickly for his journey to Wark and made no effort to see him alone. When the matter of the gold cropped up, the boy said nothing about a convent. He said casually, "The store's on your road, as a matter of fact. If you like, I'll take a pack horse and ride with you so far..

Lymond had been indifferent, but Turkey was not. He thought bluntly that a fellow fetching a double salary of gold ought to have company on the way back as well. He attached himself firmly toScott, who attempted to argue and only succeeded in making him obstinate.

Thus in the long run, Turkey Mat as well as Scott took the Wark road along with the Master. The golden dales of Crawfordmuir fell behind them, broken, gouged and abandoned, and whether the four rivers they left were of h.e.l.l, or the Pischon, Dichon, Chiddikel and Perath of Paradise might have been hard for any one of them to say.

That was this morning. The question now was how far the tiger would enter the cage.

Lymond was riding very fast, taking no risks, although he had plenty of time to reach the north of England by next day, when Harvey's convoy would pa.s.s through Wark. Turkey Mat, knee to knee with him, was talking more than usual, and it was a little time before either realized that Scott had halted.

Waiting, the boy saw the Master turn, and then bring his chestnut in a fine arc back to him; saw Lymond's eyes flicker to the splintered, obelisk elms on his left and then alter. When he came abreast, however, he merely inspected Scott's green face and groaned. "Oh G.o.d: sermons and symbolism; I can't stand it. Don't bother to tell me. You've put the gold in the convent..

Scott said heavily, "It seemed a good place to me. The bas.e.m.e.nt is quite intact, you know..

Unexpectedly, Lymond failed to rage. "Then go and get your money. Half for you; half for Mat, and for G.o.d's sake jump off the pendulum next time before it gets my length. . . . Mat! This is where I leave you both..

Mat had heard, cantering up. "Already? What about your share of the gold?.

Scott let him talk. He had thought of this possibility too: he had thought of everything. He moved restively behind the two men and made his un.o.btrusive signal and then rejoined them, a little sulky and very young, his brow round and flecked with the sun. Mat was still arguing, but only seconds elapsed before they all heard the drumming of hoofs from behind the hill they had just pa.s.sed.

Lymond's head came up instantly, listening; weighing up the quality of the sound. It was a large body of cavalry not yet in sight:Scots or otherwise hardly mattered; both were a danger to him, and a danger at this special and delicate crisis in his affairs.

He turned quickly. There was only one source of cover, and ithad to be reached before the first riders came into sight. After the merest hint of a pause he collected the chestnut, jerked his head, and followed by Turkey and Scott, raced for the convent.

They got there, as he intended, before the first horses came into sight. They jumped the broken wall, dismounting, tying their horses out of sight in the roofless, rubble-filled building and flinging themselves among the toadflax as the grey light flickered like St. Elmo's fire on the pikes and drawn swords of galloping hors.e.m.e.n rounding the hill.

Turkey, his beard full of burs, his clothing soaked with the light rain, spared breath for an ironic cheer as the troop streamed frieze-like along the road: they galloped to the exact point the three men had just left, and then forsaking the road entirely, bore like a grey and shining harrow through the wet gra.s.s, making straight for the convent.

Mat's mouth fell slightly open. "It's the second sight. It must be:I'm d.a.m.ned if they saw us..

Brittle as exploding gla.s.s, Lymond said, "They didn't see us. They expected to find us here. They're Ballaggan men..

"The horses-.

"Too late. You heard Scott: there's a bas.e.m.e.nt," said Lymond, and twisting like a dorcus led them full tilt through the shattered rooms, Scott beside him and Mat at his heels. The stairs plunged downward, broken and shallow. At the head of them the Master took a quick step, wrenched Scott's sword screaming from its sheath and flung the boy weaponless down the stairs with such force that he landed knee and shoulder at the first bend. The look in the blue eyes chilled even Turkey. "You lead. Another trick and I'll kill you..

Then they were running downstairs, Lymond with a sword in each hand. Mat said, "The boy . . .

"Of course: who else? But he may not know there's a pa.s.sage out of that cellar. Unless it's full of Hunter and his friends, waiting for us..

It wasn't. At the next bend there was light: a sickly glint from a wall taper exposing the sunk treads and checkered green walls. Then they were in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

The floor was littered with rubbish from the groined roof, and dust covered everything. In a corner stood a heavy leather chest, securely locked: their useless gold. They sought instead what their lives depended on: the low and obscure door to the nuns' under-ground pa.s.sage. It was there. They saw the lintel. The rest was blocked, triumphantly and symbolically indeed, with stacked cases of gunpowder.

It was suddenly very quiet.

Overhead, they could hear the jangle of harness and men's voices but no steps descending, although Mat moved instinctively to the narrow stair and put his sword across it. Scott was standing motionless between the gold and the gunpowder, the tallow dip in his hand, light and shadow racing in freshets over the stone between leader and accolyte.

Softly Lymond said, "You put the cost of your pride at three lives?.

"Three!.

Lymond answered Mat without turning his head. "Why do you fancy he's holding the torch?.

It was quick, of course, admirable; but quick thinking would hardly rescue him now. Scott raised the flare, beside red ear and thick jaw and tousled, ,marigold hair. He said, "Just a precaution. You have ten minutes to walk upstairs and give yourselves up; otherwise they fire stoneshot, and then Greek fire, and there'll be an explosion like Muspelheim. By waiting, of course, you'll take me with you; but that's a dull prospect compared with setting a score of young la.s.sies to fry....

"You b.l.o.o.d.y little traitor, shut your mouth!" It was Matthew, not Lymond.

The direct a.s.sault on the memory was intentional: a revenge indeed for every doubt and indignity and misery that Scott had suffered. He had perhaps reckoned without Lymond's peculiar strength.

No trace of the ordeal was visible to Scott. The raw light shuddered on the Master's face but Lymond himself was quite still. He said, "You evidently want to be taken seriously. I am now doing so. You are prepared to take responsibility for Matthew's death?.

Buccleuch had hinted, and Sir Andrew had confirmed. You don't make concessions to a man who has killed his own sister. "Matthew's safe," said Scott. "We're all safe, for ten minutes. She was called Eloise, wasn't she? Why did she die?.

"Because in this age only the intolerable have survived. Matthew, quickly..

Scott reached the gunpowder before them, the tallow spluttering in his hand, smiling. "Touch one box and I'll explode it..

The dreadful, fragile little situation was too much for Mat. He raised his heavy sword, inhaling stale air with a roar. "Explode it then, you b.l.o.o.d.y little rat: you don't have the guts!" and stumbled, arrested by Lymond, iron-armed.

"You're dealing with hysteria, not guts or lack of them. Scott: if I were alone I'd say throw and be d.a.m.ned. Burn us into red and white rose trees. Make sweet cinders of our b.l.o.o.d.y gold. Exercise this pitiful, f.e.c.kless piety you've discovered and reap your own trashy reward. Why the melodrama, I don't know. If you were determined to trap me, it seems a fairly simple thing to do without the busking. If you want the satisfaction of a discussion, you won't get it. Make your decisions, such as they are: you're in command. I have nothing to say to you..

"h.e.l.l, but I have!" said Mat. "Jump him! Start on the boxes. He won't throw..

"He will," said Lymond calmly. "Big bangs and primary colours appeal to the young..

"What then?.

"Up to the realms of this universal patron..

"Dandy Hunter? Give ourselves up?.

"Unless like Hanno you wish to sail by streams of fire. Unbuckle your sword. The suicide impulse is very strong in the air..

Lymond was already, left-handed, unfastening his own sword belt. He pulled it off complete with scabbard and dropped it on the rubble behind him. Mat's followed, in his right hand Lymond continued to hold Scott's sword. "The ten minutes are nearly up. You were saying?" he said to the boy.

It was the steadiness of the voice that shook Scott. He exclaimed, "For G.o.d's sake: this is where she died. Doesn't that mean anything?.

"If I killed her, why should it? If I didn't, I'm not likely to be goaded into triple suttee, even to enable you to expire in a spray of madder-fed milk..

"You are willing," said Scott harshly, "to give yourselves up?.

"We are waiting with, I hope, well concealed impatience to do so..

"In that case, I'll take back my sword..

Knowing Lymond, Scott was well prepared. He expected a thrust or a cut, or even the heavy blade hurled in his face. Instead Lymond said briefly, "I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll give it to you. This one wrote a betrayal. It can stay and sign it." And he hurled it away from himself,far across the dark cellar where it spun with a little tongue from the torch flame, carrying the boy's gaze instinctively with it.

In that one small blind instant, like the tiger of Scott's own fantasy, Lymond jumped.

Too late to avoid him, Scott had all the time in the world to do what he wanted. The heavy torch, flung with all the boy's strength, left his hand and soared high over the gunpowder boxes, jettisoning sparks. The shadows pounced after it; the new, rough wood of the boxes bloomed under its high star; then it fell.

Hallway to the powder it collided with the clogged, sodden wool of Lymond's cloak, simultaneously thrown. Torch and cloak fell together; the wrap, batlike and sluggish, rolled over the lower boxes like a carpet and the tallow dip, upright, hit the topmost box, hesitated, bowed, and then halting in the surge of its own fire, toppled slowly forward and into the cloak. There was a flare of light, writhing over ceiling and uneven, web-clotted walls. Then Matthew leaped forward and Scott, borne to the floor by Lymond's hard strength, twisted vainly to stop him. There was a shrinking of light; a stink of tallow; a hiss; and the shock of utter darkness seized them all.

There was no light; there was no air. Scott heard Matthew blundering about, seeking them. He could hear Lymond's quick breathing, close to his face and his own raucous panting. He could feel cool fingers bending and turning, the weight of the lean, clever body and the steady leverage on his own limbs. . . . Kill girls! He could kill girls; but he wasn't going to stop Will Scott.

He broke that hold, and the next. He knew some of Lymond's tricks, but not all. The pressure on his ribs had gone. Now he needed only to get his right hand free. He twisted.

Matthew stumbled on them and laid hands on something. Lymond's voice, breathless, told him curtly to keep away. There were men~s voices m the convent above, and someone shouted something, but the blood roaring in his ears deafened Scott. He crashed again on his side, bruising his hip agonizingly against fallen stone, gritted his teeth, and shifted his own grip again.