Nigel Tranter - Lord and Master

Patrick had no qualms to recollect He swept up Mariota -

though a little less high than once he had done, for she was a big well-made woman now and no slip of a girl – kissing her comprehensively and enthusiastically.

'My splendid and adorable Mariota!' he cried. 'How beautiful you are! How kind. And generous I What a form! Aye, by God – and what a weight, too!' And he set her down, panting.

'You are home then, Patrick,' David greeted, his voice coming thickly. 'It has been a long' time. More than a year. You look… as though you throve!'

'Aye, my good stern Davy! He who frowns! It does me good to see you all. You have all grown, I swear – Mary more bewitching, more ravishing; Mariota more beautiful, more desirable, more rounded and Davy more like Davy than ever!'

'Aye,' David said 'And the laddie? 'That is 'Vicky,' Mary announced

'Why yes, so he is. This is Ludovick Stuart, Duke of Lennox.. who resembles his father but little, I think.' 'Lord! You… you have brought him here? D'Aubigny's son. You…!'

'Indeed, yes. On the King's express command. He is, after all, Scotland's only duke!'

'He is the son of the man…' David paused.

'The man whom we both knew so well. Surely we can do no less than show him kindly welcome, brother?

David bit his lip, but Mariota stooped quickly, arms out to the boy, who eyed her but doubtfully.

Mary took him by the hand. 'Come with me,' she commanded. 'I have a hedgepig with babies. In my garden. Come.'

Without enthusiasm, the Duke went with her. "

'Patrick!' Mariota exclaimed, rising. 'You are thinner, I think. You are well? Where have you come from? Have you ridden far?

'I am perfecdy well, my dear. We do not all have the facility for growing fat! And have ridden only from St Andrews, of blessed memory! Where James insists in keeping his Court, meantime. A chilly place in autumn mists, as I think you will recollect.We must move him before the winter, I vow! I came thither from Rheims only two days ago.'

'You are not come home to stay, then…?'

'I fear not, my dove. Much as I would relish life here with you… and with Davy, of course!'

Have you not done enough? At the Court? David asked,

pointedly. 'You have a fair heritage here…'

'God forbid! Would you have Arran and his… lady ruling all Scotland? Save us from that!'

'James himself aspires to rule his realm, I think.'

'One day, no doubt. James will need to rule himself before he rules a kingdom. Meantime, a loyal subject's duty is to aid and guide him, is it not? For the good of that kingdom!'

David began to speak, and then held his tongue, meeting his brother's eye steadily instead. Patrick changed the subject

'Where is the noble and puissant Lord Gray?' he asked, hghdy.

'He is at Fowlis Castle. Has been for some days.'

'Ah! With a new lady, I'll be bound!'

Mariota led the way indoors for refreshment

Later, with the young woman gone down to the gardens for the children, Patrick manoeuvred his brother out into the courtyard again, where none might overhear. The Lady Marie?' he said, abruptly for him. 'She is not at St Andrews. None there know her whereabouts.. Do you, Davy?'

David did not answer at once. 'What if I do?' he said, at length. Why should I tell you?'

'Why not, brother?'

It could be that she were better off lacking your company.' 'So-o-o! Are you her keeper, then, Davy?' 'I am not Only her friend.' 'Ah. And I? What then am I?'

'Aye – well may you ask! It is a question that I ask myself frequently! What are you? Whose friend are you – save your own?'

Looking at his brother, it was Patrick's turn to be silent for a little. This is… interesting, Davy,' he said presently, 'Aye, interesting. What makes friendship? Judgment? Criticism? Or trust? Understanding? Sympathy?'

'Something of all, it may be. But the trust and the sympathy must be two-sided, I think. Whom do you trust, Patrick? And who may trust you?'

Heigho – you I hope, Davy! And Marie likewise. Where is she man?'

'If I tell you, will you make me a promise!?'

'I will, of course. Anything that is in reason.'

'It is in reason, certainly. It is just this – that you will not use her in any of your intrigues. That you will use her kindly, and not knowingly hurt her.'

'Lord, Davy – of course I promise it. But… this, from you! What does she mean to you, man?'

'Just that I will not see her hurt You understand, Patrick?'

'I hear you, anyway!' Patrick glanced sidelong at his brother, knowing that grim tone from of old They had walked out beneath the gatehouse into the wide and grassy forecourt 'You have my promise. Where is she?'

'In Glen Prosen. With her natural sister, who is married to Wat Ogilvie, a lairdling there.'

'Glen Prosen? In the wilderness! I see. Has she been there long? Was she there when… when…?'

'No,'the other said briefly.'She went afterwards. Her father was held, and her brothers scattered.'

'But.. you saw her?'

'Aye She came here. She it was who first told us of it Of the King's capture. And what followed.'

'I see' Patrick kicked a fallen twig out of his way, casually. 'How did the matter appear to her? How did she take it?'

David almost imperceptibly edged his brother over the greensward towards a little path, all but overgrown with long grasses. 'I think that she took it as I did,' he said slowly. 'Took it but ill. Took it that a clever hand was behind it all – a hand that did not appear.'

'Indeed.'

'Yes, a ruthless hand that played with men as though they were but puppets on strings – whilst itself remained safe hidden in a sleeve!'

Patrick laughed. 'A pretty conceit, Davy – but improbable, I think. Was that her invention, or yours? She has a level head on her, that one I would not think her so fanciful.'

'No?' He took his brother's arm. 'This way, Patrick.'

The other suddenly perceived whither he was being led, guided. He halted, and made as though to turn back. David's pressure on his arm was strong, however. They were on the start of the little track that led down into the birchwood, where once and more than once criticism had taken a physical form.

'I am not dressed for woodland walking,' he said, a little strangely.

'Are you ever? Come you, Patrick.'

'No. This is folly. I have not the time…'

'Come, you. We have all the time that there is. I only wish to speak with you, brother,' David said softly. 'Did you think…?'

Patrick mustered a laugh and a one-shouldered shrug. 'We are grown men,' he said. 'Bairns no longer. I am Master of Gray, of His Majesty's Privy Council, Master of the Wardrobe, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, Commendator of St Vigeans -did you know that? – Knight of the White Cross of Castile'

'Aye. And I am just Davy the Bastard, still! So your lord Councillorship need have no fears. Come, you.'

In silence, nevertheless, and wary-eyed, Patrick paced down the path, through the brushing brackens, beside his brother. 'Well, man?' he said at length, as though it was forced from him. 'Out with it What is this talk you would have?'

'Wait,' David advised, mildly. 'We are nearly there.'

'But…'

They came down to the little green amphitheatre amongst the.. trees, that Patrick at least had not visited since that day when he had kid the blame for Mariota's pregnancy upon his brother -and had paid some sort of price therefor in battered features and bleeding nose. There David halted.

'Why did you betray Esme" Stuart to his death?' he asked levelly.

Patrick raised finely arching brows in astonishment. 'Betray…? I? Why Davy – what are you thinking of? What foolishness is this…?

'Why did you betray Esme Stuart to his death?5 the other repeated inexorably. 'You plotted his downfall, encompassed his ruin and banishment, and assured his doom, as surely as though you had stabbed him with your own dagger. Whether you arranged his final death also, is small matter. Why did you do it, Patrick?'