The Green Man by Kate Sedley Read Free Book Online

tired. Albany certainly seemed livelier than usual and therefore willing to talk.
    But his answer when it finally came was unsatisfactory.
    â€˜I don’t know anything for certain. It’s just a feeling I have.’
    Dear God in Heaven! I hated feelings. I wanted facts.
    â€˜There must be some reason why you feel this way,’ I persisted.
    The duke remained vague, muttering that it would be just like the king to suborn one of the earl’s retainers, offering the man unlimited bribes in order to persuade him to betray his trust.
    â€˜James is a cunning bastard,’ Albany continued with a sudden spurt of merriment. ‘He’s far shrewder than is generally thought. People – all his advisers and the population at large – thought he was mad to insist on marrying a Danish princess. I mean, it was a well-known fact that King Christian was practically penniless at the time and couldn’t pay more than a fraction of Margarethe’s dowry. But James simply said he’d take the Danish islands of Orkney and Shetland as a pledge of Denmark’s good faith until the rest of the money could be handed over.’ Again, my companion laughed.
    â€˜And King Christian agreed?’
    â€˜Of course! It seemed an easy way out of his difficulties. But on each occasion that he’s offered to pay the remainder of the dowry, James has refused it, saying he’d rather keep the islands. You mark my words, Shetland and Orkney will never be returned to Denmark. They’ll belong to Scotland now for the rest of time.’
    â€˜Even if … I mean, even when you become king?’ But I could guess his answer. Politics is an unpleasant game.
    â€˜Naturally. Scotland’s boundaries have been considerably increased. However, I don’t expect to have the same success in the matter of the other dowry. King Edward’s a bird of a different feather.’
    I frowned into the darkness. The flames of the fire had by now almost turned to ashes.
    â€˜What dowry’s that?’ I asked.
    Albany sniggered. ‘You should keep your ear to the ground more, Roger. Eight years ago, when my eldest nephew, the Duke of Rothesay was barely one, he was betrothed to your little Princess Cicely. A formal betrothal ceremony was held at the Blackfriars, in Edinburgh. I was there. Pomp, ceremony, great solemnity! And Princess Cicely’s dowry was set at twenty thousand English marks, of which five thousand marks were paid over the next three years with – I must admit it – great promptitude. But now that the marriage has fallen through, King Edward wants his money back. And so far, he hasn’t received it.’
    I pursed my lips. There was much to mull over here, but, although interesting, nothing that touched on my own problem. After a decent interval to allow for a change of subject, and while I listened to the wind and rain rattling the inn’s many shutters, I asked again, ‘But which of the late earl’s men do you think means you a mischief, my lord? Surely you must have some idea?’
    But a snore was the only answer.
    The weather changed next day, becoming warmer, drowsy with the scent of wayside flowers, and the amorphous mass of men and horses was able to make better progress. A pale sun caught at the tips of spears with pinpricks of light, and we moved forward, a forest of stars in the afternoon haze. People had come out and were working in the fields, and those who had sheep were beginning the business of washing and shearing them, preparatory to taking their wool to market. But everywhere I looked, I was struck by the truth of my friend the mummer’s words. We had been luckier in the west country than any of us had realized: famine and disease, caused by the winter’s terrible storms and the spring floodings, had taken a greater toll in other parts of the country than anything we had experienced. Children with emaciated limbs, men and women as scrawny as