The Prisoner's Dilemma by Sean Stuart O'Connor Read Free Book Online Page B

of the panelling. He saw the deep red of the port, the peel of the oranges where the long loops had fallen amongst the dark shells of the nuts. He saw the light catching his fine crystal and the candles the colour of aged beef fat, all set against the patina of the table’s surface. He loved these scenes with their rich palette of soft tones. They reminded him of the paintings of the Flemish masters that he had studied so closely in France and he saw in them all the flashes of insight and dark mysteries that so fascinated him when he looked at the twists and turns of human nature.
    Adam Smith broke the silence.
    â€˜This Earl of Dunbeath, Mr Hume, did you know him well at the university?’
    Hume nodded.
    â€˜Neither of us was there for long but indeed there was a time when I would have said I knew him as well as any. He was a great trial to his professors. A very fine mind indeed, but a troubled one. No doubt you know he is the clan chief of the Urquhain? A strange tribe of men they are too. He was much affected by the curse he had inherited from his ancestors, a great weakness of character known as the Urquhain Rage, a mania that was much admired in battle but leads to trouble in peace. Many people view it as little more than arrogance and impatience, however, and I’m afraid it’s true that my friend suffers greatly from both.
    â€˜You’ll have heard of the family, of course, hugely rich but constantly at war with the world. And themselves. The earl hadn’t inherited when I knew him. He was known as the Masterof Somewhere-or-Other, some ancient title, and he was as wild as they come. There was much drinking and fighting, I’m afraid, and the authorities despaired of him. For a time he was brought to a calmer state by the daughter of one of his tutors but she rejected him and this seemed to bring on some kind of mental collapse. He went back to his family and never returned to the university. I left soon afterwards myself.
    â€˜A few years ago I heard that his father had died and that he’d inherited. And then no word but a series of sad rumours about his increasing bitterness and isolation. He retired to a gloomy castle he has in the far north of Caithness, the old family seat. Apparently he lives there alone and without servants. The richest man in Scotland and no servants! He is never seen at his other houses. God knows there are enough of them – many of them have come through the fabulous marriages the Urquhain have always made. Glenlochlan is his. And the great house at Nairn. That huge palace you’ll no doubt know at the far end of the Royal Mile, near to Holyrood, that is an Urquhain house too. A great mansion in St James’s in London, of course. All staffed, yet he never goes to any of them. His factors’ letters go unanswered and the estates, some people say they run to two hundred thousand acres, are all in a sorry state.’
    Adam Smith had listened to Hume’s story with great interest.
    â€˜I have heard something of this earl. Is he not involved with astronomy?’
    â€˜Involved, Mr Smith?’ replied Hume. ‘He’s obsessed. It is his ambition to unlock the clockwork of the universe. He intends to be the first person to accurately determine longitude at sea. In the process he is set on winning the greatest scientific prize of this and, I’d wager, any other generation, the secret of navigation.’
    â€˜And no doubt win the Government’s Longitude Prize,’ said Smith drily, ‘and the £20,000 that goes with it.’
    â€˜Very true, Mr Smith, very true. But the Prize means muchmore to him than the money. Dunbeath must be worth twenty times that already. No, the real prize for him is glory. Glory for himself, glory for the Urquhain clan and glory for Scotland. I never met a man with a greater dislike of the English. I know Dunbeath and I know he won’t rest until he’s won this prize. He can see a day when