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Authors: Dorothy Dunnett
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fellow Drummond from giving the alarm. He had successfully comported himself in the presence of English military dignitaries of the most imposing sort. If the thought of the flaming helmet stuck unpleasantly on his mind, he dismissed it. What did it matter about cross-examinations! This was man’s work.
It was then that two horses appeared wraithlike in the gloom ahead, and Lymond said sharply, “Joe! What are you doing here?” and rode forward.
Words drifted to Scott. “Bannister, sir … taken by a strong party of Scots … yes, sir, I did.… Turkey took all the men and went after him … to look out for you and tell you … yes …”
By the long-distance cramps across his shoulder blades and the worn patches inside his thighs Scott was reminded that he had been in the saddle all day; and with no great joy he felt Lymond return to his side suffused with fresh, delicate energy. “Now, don’t lose interest, my Pyrrha,” said the light voice. “I bring, lover, I bring the newis glad. Friend Bannister has got himself ambushed and now, my frivol Fortune, the ambushers are walking into the net. I’ll trip upon trenchers; I’ll dance upon dishes—it is now perfect day.”
And led by Jess’s Joe, Lymond rode quickly onward over the dark Annandale moor, Will Scott following.
3. Capture of a King’s Pawn
“Lymond must wait,”
said Lord Culter; and he and Buccleuch, and the Erskines, and Andrew Hunter and Lord Fleming and every man with a horse under him and a sword in his hand had ridden to Pinkie.
Among the ten thousand dead of that day were Lord Fleming of Boghall and Tom Erskine’s older brother.
Among the living, the hungry and battle-weary, with lined faces caulked with dust, were Lymond’s brother Lord Culter and Tom Erskine himself, far from slight, irritating adventures with a drunken sow. With the rags of their following the two men left the battlefield together and, knowing their families to be safe with Queen Mother, baby Queen and Court in the fortress town of Stirling, they crossed Scotland from the River Forth to the River Annan in an attempt toput a block—not enough men; not enough ordnance; not enough food—between the advancing army under Lord Wharton and the treasure at Stirling.
So while the spirits of my lords Wharton and Lennox were being mortified in Annan, two parties of Scottish troops lay still in the darkness to the north: so still that Charlie Bannister, the Protector’s ill-fated messenger to Wharton, walked straight into one of them. He had the presence of mind to destroy his dispatches before they caught him; but catch him they did, and took him to Lord Culter.
The man Bannister might have been weak in geography, and uncertain in his grasp of minor essentials such as avoiding the attention of large bodies of cavalry. But in one thing he excelled: he could keep his mouth shut.
Agonizingly aware of the danger to Stirling, excoriated by the need to know the Protector’s and Wharton’s plans, they tried every method of persuasion; for the messenger knew the gist of his message: incautious to the end, he had let that out himself.
With failure confronting them, Culter took his captain aside. The dilemma was plain. If the English Protector, now at Edinburgh, was ready to move on to attack the Queen and the Governor, he would order Wharton north to support him. Were these the orders Charlie Bannister carried? And when they didn’t come, would Wharton stay a while in Annan? Long enough, for example, to let Lord Culter and Tom Erskine with their men, however few, ride back to the defence of Stirling, their two Queens, their womenfolk?
“But if you’re wrong, sir,” said Lord Culter’s captain, “you unstop this hole by moving away.”
There was a short silence; then Culter took his decision. “Get your horse and bring Erskine and the other party to me. If it is as I think, we abandon Annan and march north.”
The captain left, and still Bannister held out. Lord Culter,
It was then that two horses appeared wraithlike in the gloom ahead, and Lymond said sharply, “Joe! What are you doing here?” and rode forward.
Words drifted to Scott. “Bannister, sir … taken by a strong party of Scots … yes, sir, I did.… Turkey took all the men and went after him … to look out for you and tell you … yes …”
By the long-distance cramps across his shoulder blades and the worn patches inside his thighs Scott was reminded that he had been in the saddle all day; and with no great joy he felt Lymond return to his side suffused with fresh, delicate energy. “Now, don’t lose interest, my Pyrrha,” said the light voice. “I bring, lover, I bring the newis glad. Friend Bannister has got himself ambushed and now, my frivol Fortune, the ambushers are walking into the net. I’ll trip upon trenchers; I’ll dance upon dishes—it is now perfect day.”
And led by Jess’s Joe, Lymond rode quickly onward over the dark Annandale moor, Will Scott following.
3. Capture of a King’s Pawn
“Lymond must wait,”
said Lord Culter; and he and Buccleuch, and the Erskines, and Andrew Hunter and Lord Fleming and every man with a horse under him and a sword in his hand had ridden to Pinkie.
Among the ten thousand dead of that day were Lord Fleming of Boghall and Tom Erskine’s older brother.
Among the living, the hungry and battle-weary, with lined faces caulked with dust, were Lymond’s brother Lord Culter and Tom Erskine himself, far from slight, irritating adventures with a drunken sow. With the rags of their following the two men left the battlefield together and, knowing their families to be safe with Queen Mother, baby Queen and Court in the fortress town of Stirling, they crossed Scotland from the River Forth to the River Annan in an attempt toput a block—not enough men; not enough ordnance; not enough food—between the advancing army under Lord Wharton and the treasure at Stirling.
So while the spirits of my lords Wharton and Lennox were being mortified in Annan, two parties of Scottish troops lay still in the darkness to the north: so still that Charlie Bannister, the Protector’s ill-fated messenger to Wharton, walked straight into one of them. He had the presence of mind to destroy his dispatches before they caught him; but catch him they did, and took him to Lord Culter.
The man Bannister might have been weak in geography, and uncertain in his grasp of minor essentials such as avoiding the attention of large bodies of cavalry. But in one thing he excelled: he could keep his mouth shut.
Agonizingly aware of the danger to Stirling, excoriated by the need to know the Protector’s and Wharton’s plans, they tried every method of persuasion; for the messenger knew the gist of his message: incautious to the end, he had let that out himself.
With failure confronting them, Culter took his captain aside. The dilemma was plain. If the English Protector, now at Edinburgh, was ready to move on to attack the Queen and the Governor, he would order Wharton north to support him. Were these the orders Charlie Bannister carried? And when they didn’t come, would Wharton stay a while in Annan? Long enough, for example, to let Lord Culter and Tom Erskine with their men, however few, ride back to the defence of Stirling, their two Queens, their womenfolk?
“But if you’re wrong, sir,” said Lord Culter’s captain, “you unstop this hole by moving away.”
There was a short silence; then Culter took his decision. “Get your horse and bring Erskine and the other party to me. If it is as I think, we abandon Annan and march north.”
The captain left, and still Bannister held out. Lord Culter,
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