He blinks. Around him he sees a fluttering; they’re small and white and dance over his head. There’s another loud crash, this time from above. The noise frees him from the grip of unquiet spirits. He turns and stumbles down the stairs, falls into the courtyard, the dried shit coating his body with a layer of dust, and flees to the doorway opposite, back up the stairs to the great hall, where he huddles by the dim light of the dying fire. He wonders if he’ll ever have a quiet heart again. The Cardinal’s soul has invaded his and the Pope has cursed him. He is damned.
When he awakes it is broad daylight; the storm has dropped to a steady blast of wind and his co-conspirators are complaining about how much he stinks.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Truce
Leslie and several others, including Richard Lee who considers his work at the castle done, leave for the court of King Henry early in December. Will watches as they are rowed around the coast to a waiting ship – Arran’s fleet have disappeared, they know not where. He feels Leslie is deserting them to seek spiritual, as well as physical, protection from King Henry, who styles himself Defender of the Faith.
‘By God’s good blood, may they be kept safe on these wintry seas,’ says Morrison, as the boat disappears from sight.
Will hawks and spits. ‘Aye, and by God’s good grace they’ll be better fed, warmer and more comfortable than will be our lot over this winter.
Yet, before Yule, Regent Arran sends a deputation to stand in front of the castle with a proposal which lifts their spirits. The Castilians watch the group of three from the castle windows until eventually Melville determines to go out and speak with them. Nydie and Will are ordered to accompany him, but Will clutches at his belly pleading the thraw, for the one thing he’s promised himself he must do for his family is to continue to stay out of sight. Morrison goes instead.
Will positions himself, half-hid at a window above, as the three stroll out to stand before Arran’s deputation. They bow to one another, and he sees Nydie nod to his opposite number. The man looks familiar – it’s Logie of Clatto from the lands above Garrbridge. Will sniffs; Gilbert Logie is loyal to Arran!
He sees Logie nod back, holding onto his cap which the blustery wind is tugging; his lips move but Will cannot hear the words. It’s not long before Melville shakes his head, and the two groups part, Nydie chasing his cap back to the gate while the others hold tight onto theirs.
Will leaps down the stairs to speak to Nydie. ‘What happened?’
‘They are proposing a truce, but Melville is affecting little interest.’
‘Why?’ Will covers his mouth, he didn’t mean to hit such a high note.
‘I think he’s reluctant to agree terms with our leaders absent.’
The discussions go back and forth over the next few days.
‘Now Regent Arran proposes to seek absolution from the Pope on our behalf,’ Nydie tells Will.
He straightens up, his body feels lighter – as though the gloom which has sat heavy upon him since the Great Cursing is lifting.
‘While we await the absolution, should the Holy Father be willing to grant it, we have agreed to negotiate the terms of a surrender, which will be favourable to both sides.’
‘What does that mean?’
Nydie shrugs, ‘I think they do not know – it is what the negotiation will determine, once Leslie, Kirkcaldy and Balnaves return from England. We do have to keep within the castle; they don’t want us roaming at will.’
Will is relieved to hear it. He would not wish for a repeat of last summer’s behaviour when the garrison plucked what they could from his town.
‘In the meantime we are to send hostages as a pledge of good faith.’
‘Ah, I thought it all sounded too easy.’
‘That is what has taken so long to agree, for they have insisted that Kirkcaldy’s sons are among the hostages.’
Three boys, younger than Will, two of them indeed Kirkcaldy’s sons, leave the castle later that day. Will thinks, as he watches them go, that yet again he’s glad to be the son of a merchant and not worthy of anyone’s attention.
Soon there is a strange rumour running around the castle that Henry of England is seeking absolution from the Pope on the Castilians behalf.
‘How can that be?’ he asks Nydie. ‘Henry has denied the Pope and seized all his lands and wealth in England.’
Nydie shakes his head in shared disbelief, but then the tale changes.
‘’Tis now being said that Balnaves, far from asking King Henry to seek absolution, is requesting him to use his influence to block the absolution that Arran has sought,’ says Will.
They roll their eyes.
‘Here’s the latest on the absolution story,’ says Nydie leaping out in front of Will some days later.
Will shoves him on the shoulder and Nydie wrestles back.
‘What now?’ asks Will when they pause for breath.
‘Leslie has heard that the Dowager Queen asked the King of France to seek absolution but the Pope, in return, wants all the ecclesiastical dues unpaid since the Cardinal’s death to be given up.’
Will gives a snort of laughter but is relieved to know that the absolution may still be granted. ‘Do you think it’s true, will they give the funds up?’
Nydie grows serious, ‘Who knows if any or all of these tales of absolution are true.’ He shuffles his feet considering, and then looks up. ‘Regent Arran will not easily hand over funds to the Pope – for his family now control what was once Beaton’s rich livings. And why would he to save our souls, when we are his enemies?’
Will considers what Nydie has said. It all sounds worthy of that fellow Machiavelli advising his prince; a ruse, and excuse, for a truce and delay. On their side to give England more time to effect a rescue and on Arran’s side, simply to delay – for that is what it is said whiffle-whaffle Arran does best.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Fight
Shortly after Yule, the Leslies and Kirkcaldy of Grange return from London and are able to re-enter the castle under the flag of truce. They have each been granted a hundred merks and much reassurance about how Henry Tudor is their supporter. Balnaves has stayed at Henry’s court, and continues to press for military aid to break the siege once and for all. The English king has also written to Arran, insisting the Castilians must be given safe passage and freed, as his friends and well-wishers to the marriage of the infant Mary to his son Prince Edward. The Castilians are jubilant and dance an impromptu reel in the courtyard, kicking up the muck – which has grown worse again since Balnaves left – with their flying feet.
Will stands on the sidelines watching the celebrations. If Henry is our great friend, he thinks, why has he not broken the siege, and where is the promised relief force? If they had not killed the Cardinal, but held him prisoner, he still swears the English king would have sent an army for the joy of getting his hands on Beaton. He can feel the weight of despair heavy upon him once more, as though he’s trapped under a rockfall in the siege tunnel. He reminds himself that their work is God’s work, and the good Lord must be supporting them else they would not still be holding the castle. He rubs his forehead but it does not help; the sense of impending doom will not leave him.