‘I’ll mind them,’ he managed to whisper. ‘I’ll mind every one o’ their faces.’
‘You do that, Young Hutchin,’ said Carey. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing the tale of how you kill them all when you’re grown.’
‘I marked one of them this time,’ said Hutchin fiercely. ‘I hope he dies screamin’ o’ the rot.’
‘So do I,’ said Carey. ‘Go and see what’s to eat in the kitchens and then stay close to us. If you have trouble again, give your family warcry... What is it?’
‘L-Liddesdale.’
Carey smiled wryly. ‘I’ll come to it and so will Dodd. Off you go now.’
Dodd’s mouth was open with outrage. When Hutchin had trotted off, he gasped, ‘But sir, will ye no’ thump him for nearly losing ye the horse?’
Carey laughed softly. ‘Lord, Dodd, what could I do to him that would be worse?’
‘But he’ll no’ respect ye...’
‘Oh, the hell with the bloody horse, Dodd, there’s no chance Spynie could keep Thunder, any more than Maxwell could. And I think the boy will be more careful now.’
‘Sir, how did ye guess so fine what they were after?’
‘Come on, Dodd, you know I’ve been at King James’s court before? Though I have to say it wasn’t this bad then.’
Dodd shut his gaping mouth before he said something he would regret. Wild speculation and surmise began to crowd through his mind. He managed to nod stolidly.
‘Ay,’ he said. ‘Will I go and fetch Sim’s Will and my brother now?’
Carey considered this. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Not on your own, not yet. I’ll get my lord Warden to send one of his servants with a letter to Carmichael and a couple of his men as backup.’
Dodd nodded approvingly at this. The two of them took Thunder round to the stables and settled him in the best stall which had been cleared by Maxwell’s head groom. Carey unstrapped the dag-cases and slung them on his shoulder.
‘More shooting, sir?’ Dodd asked sadly.
‘My lord wants to win the shooting match and I promised him the loan of my dags for it, though I think he’d be better off with a longer barrel. Come on. You can have a few shots too, if you like.’
‘No thank ye, sir,’ said Dodd with dignity. ‘I dinna care for firearms.’
***
They sat down again to eat with Lord Maxwell who had polished off much of the haggis and half the chicken, Carey waving Dodd to a seat on the bench next to him. Mollified as to his dignity, Dodd took the rest of the haggis, though it wasn’t as good as the ones his wife made when they had done some successful raiding.
‘Boy keep his maidenhead then?’ asked Maxwell casually.
‘Just about.’
‘I could have warned you not to bring a lad that pretty here.’
Carey sighed. ‘I know, my lord.’
Maxwell swilled down some more of the terrible wine. ‘Ye ken what it’s like,’ he said. ‘Lord Spynie’s friends and relations reckon they can do as they please, and mainly they can...’
‘On her last progress, the Queen hanged a man that was caught raping a girl—after a fair trial, of course.’
Maxwell nodded. ‘The King should do it too, but Spynie begs him and the King always gives in. Any road, who knows; most of the time, the girls are willing enough for a ring or a couple of shillings. It’s the boys I feel sorry for.’
The talk wandered on in a desultory way until it came back, remarkably enough, to the topic of the mysterious German.
‘No one knows,’ said Maxwell flatly. ‘I heard he was a mining engineer from the Black Forest and he was to find the King a rich gold mine at Jedburgh and work it for him, by a new and Hermetic system for seeking out metals in the earth, but the mine collapsed and the King hanged him for lying about his knowledge.’
Carey nodded wisely at this.
‘I heard he was from Augsburg,’ he said.
‘Nay, the Black Forest, I’m certain of it.’
‘What was his name?’
Maxwell made a small moue of ignorance and shook his head. ‘I never saw him, only heard tell of him.’ He poured himself some more of the wine, sipped, seemed to notice the taste for the first time and spat it out into the rushes. ‘Jesus Christ, this stuff is shite.’
Carey looked sympathetic again. ‘I had heard that you had found a decent wine merchant to supply you with...’
Maxwell’s face darkened with anger. ‘I found a slimy bastard of an Italian catamite, that’s what I found, Sir Robert, him and his wife together.’
The depth of sympathy in Carey’s face was masterly.
‘Oh?’ he said.
Maxwell grunted. ‘Brought them into Scotland, introduced them to the Court and what thanks do I get for it? None. Bonnetti’s bringing in French and Italian wine by the tun for His Highness and do I get a drop of it? I do not. As for his whore of a wife...’ Maxwell spat into the rushes again. ‘If I didnae ken very well it’s not likely, I’d say she was in the King’s bed and Queen Anne should watch out.’ He drank some more of his inferior wine and made a face. ‘Mind, she’s nothing so special there either, for all her looks.’
