Part One. The Play for Jonathan Crouch. Chapter VII. A Variety of Mating Replies. 2. Check and Cross Check

Item 7. is the shooting glove, formed to protect
the three fingers used in drawing the string. 

Here we have Dunnett's three arrows again: the one that freed the parrot, the one that hit the parrot, the one that hit Richard. This last is remarked on: 

For the arrow which struck Richard came from a great distance and had to fly over many heads to an almost invisible mark. Unlike the first two it was not faultless.

I added the emphasis. Remember: Dunnett never says anything that is extraneous or pointless.

What do we learn about the archery equipment? 

• The bow is English (Richard assumes Lymond got it as part of his Annan booty).
• The arrows are all from the same source (they are all made from the same wood and feathers, I assume).
• They are barbed (which is, judging by Richard's comment, highly inappropriate in a perch contest).
• The glove is high-quality white buckskin, perfumed and jeweled and expensive.
• The glove is new because it shows no signs of repeated usage.

In short, everything seems to fit into a neat package of damning evidence against Lymond. Richard's ire against his brother is understandably growing stronger. And Mariotta's comment will only help fan the flames of hatred ("He [Lymond] seems able to do almost anything he wants.") What husband could bear such a comment about any man, especially a handsome, rougish younger brother?

Notice that Agnes jumps on this comment by diverting the attention away from Mariotta to herself as she looks (longingly) at Richard and heaves a sigh. She is not impressed by Lymond. She is focused on the true hero: Richard.

Sybilla, exercising her "own brand of humane genius" diverts everyone from the papingo shoot disaster with the very conveniently arranged gypsy entertainment. The scene focuses not on the players but on the audience. We know:

• Mariotta is relaxing and getting her color back.
• Tom Erskine is providing commentary for Christian.
• Christian is trying to restrain Agnes, with limited success.
• Andrew Hunter is helping Christian keep Agnes's enthusiasm in check.
• Richard is watching the gypsies while half asleep.
• Sybilla is watching Richard while she is having a "long and intermittent" discussion with Johnnie Bullo.
• Wat Scott is the only member of the audience not mentioned.

And Sybilla uses that as an excuse to remove Wat from the scene to ask him about the bloodhounds. Once again Sybilla proves herself preternaturally insightful. She knew immediately what Richard was planning:

"I always could interpret these silences, you know, more easily than half an hour of his brother's chatter."

Oh, my! Isn't that interesting? Lymond's mother claims she has trouble seeing through his elaborate deceptions. He uses language as a disguise just as surely as he uses wigs and clothing and accents. We do get a sense here that Lymond loves to talk and loves to hear himself talk. 

Now we have the treat of watching Sybilla in action--something very similar to watching Francis work his will on others. The exchange between Sybilla and Wat Scott might be a tad confusing, so here's what is going on.

Lord Grey, who was humiliated by Lymond at Hume when he came to rescue Will Scott, has "invited" Wat to Norham to assure the English of his continued assistance along the border. Wat has so far pleaded illness to avoid the summons, but the word is bound to get back to Grey very soon that Wat is quite well enough to attend the papingo shoot, among other activities. Wat realizes that he has two equally terrible choices regarding his son. 

On the one hand, he can disown Will and hope Lord Grey believes him. Wat doubts this will work because Grey knows it was Will at Hume and because the English troops from the supply train ended up "bound and frozen" and half naked ("cutty sarks") on his land. Also, if Wat disowns Will and he is caught, he'll suffer the same punishment as Lymond, that is, as a traitor. 

On the other hand, if Will comes home, as Wat has people praying he will, the English will surely burn his property to the ground in the next cross-border raid. (Wat's irreverence is as touching as it is amusing. He's ordered the clergy to pray for Will's return, but he calls them "baw-heids" or, basically, idiots.)

Add to this Richard Crawford's energetic request that Wat use his bloodhounds to track Lymond and you have a pretty good idea of the stress Wat is under. Sybilla gives Wat the way out of this particular quandary (using the bloodhounds) by promising that she will catch Will before anyone else, English or Scottish, gets hold of him, but we do not know how. Wat is quick to assent to her request.

Notice how quickly and smoothly Sybilla shifts the conversation to Johnnie Bullo and the Philosopher's Stone as the others enter the room. Johnnie clearly wants the ladies to leave Bogle House and come to his tent for some reason, and Sybilla does not hesitate to agree to the jaunt to the Fair even though it is now night and the fair has undoubtedly deteriorated into an event highly inappropriate for ladies and girls, even those with an armed escort.

It is always a matter of speculation among Dunnett readers about whom Sybilla is speaking when, alone with the sleeping Richard, she says, "Oh, my darling...I do hope I've done the best thing!" It could be Richard; it could be Lymond; it could conceivably be someone else. We cannot tell for sure. Nor can we be sure what she has done that worries and possibly even frightens her. We do know she has had a long conversation with Johnnie Bullo earlier this night, right before she asks Wat not to use his hounds to find Lymond, and she plans to meet with Johnnie again at Midculter.

First Johnnie Bullo as Lymond's go-between with Christian. Is he now Lymond's go-between with his mother? 

***

We "see" the day's events and the fair at night through Christian, and the images are disquieting and repulsive. The "uncouth" and "coarse" and "mindless, ganting" noises of the day have unfolded into an even worse "Saturnalia" of the night, filled with "sottish, leering voices" and the smells, the horrible smells, of stale beer and sweaty bodies and rancid food and the sharp odor of blood. It is not just nighttime, it is a nightmare for Christian, whose sensitive nature is assailed not only by the noises and odors but also by the "blundering bodies" and "grasping hands" all around her. And the stresses and anxieties of the day prey upon her mind all the while. We can feel the near panic she is trying hard to conceal.

Gypsies at a Fair

When Christian finally is guided by Johnnie Bullo inside his tent, the tension is hardly eased by the cold, enveloping silence. 

Then comes the "mothlike" voice, which immediately describes the surroundings to Christian so as to give her the comfort of bearings. Notice Lymond instantly detects Christian's fear (he is very sensitive to the emotions of others). Christian is eager to tell Lymond how the varieties of violence disgust her, with the day's events providing further examples of how human beings enjoy cruelty and inflicting pain. 

---

Aside: Christian mentions a kind of violence that "amuses itself by stuffing women and children into a cave and smoking them to death." I found almost that same language here:

Speaking of the clan system, more particularly during the middle ages, the Duke [of Argyll] says, "It was a rude and barbarous history--a history of almost utter barbarism--and whole tribes smothered, men, women, and children smoked to death in caves..." [my emphasis] from Bishop Carswell and His Times, The Celtic Magazine, April 1882, accessed via Electric Scotland.

John Carswell was born around 1522 and is closely associated with Mary Queen of Scots. He also translated a Gaelic edition of John Knox's liturgy. The language here and in The Game of Kings seems too close to have been coincidental. There are other sources that refer to the same kind of barbaric act (Wild Scottish Clans, by Arthur Griffiths, published 1910). It seems to me that Christian is referring not to English barbarity but to how the Scots themselves have been guilty of perpetrating horrors on each other. After all, who are the people at the fair but her fellow countrymen and women?

---

Why does Christian want to go to the fair? Remember Johnnie Bullo tried to get a message to her earlier that day but was unsuccessful. She wants to find out what that message is. Also, Christian wants to pass along information of her own, that is, about Jonathan Crouch. Lymond has his own motive for meeting Christian in the tent. Even though Lymond asks Christian how Richard is faring, this is more courtesy than necessity. Johnnie Bullo, after all, has been in Culter's company all evening and is a reliable reporter. Lymond's main motive is to let Christian know that he did not try to kill Richard: "I haven't tried to kill anybody today, I give you my word." However, he does not actually deny shooting Richard, only not trying to kill his brother. He could just as easily said, "I did not shoot anyone today."

All this almost certainly means that Christian knows who Lymond is by now, and perhaps knew all along. Why do she and Lymond continue the charade of his anonymity? I think it is mainly because he is a wanted man, a man accused of treason, and her openly acknowledging that she knows his identity is very dangerous. To use the current vernacular, the play-acting gives Christian some degree of "plausible deniability," however slight. Also, for her to admit she knows Lymond's identity would break the spell of their enchanted friendship by introducing cold, stark reality. Neither of them wants that.

---

Aside: Regarding Lymond's comments on archery--clearly he is a man with a finely honed aesthetic sense. He loves the sport because, done well, it is a beautiful thing to behold and to perform. It is, for him, artistry in motion. Keep in mind Lymond's various skills and talents because they will be important throughout the series. How and when did he become so adept at so many different activities that require years of training and practice?

---

The long, difficult discussion between Lymond and Christian on the depravity of man reveals a great deal about Francis Crawford. He points out to Christian that it only takes "a good crack of thunder" to bring people to their knees to pray for deliverance. And as for mankind being civilized, he hardly sees much evidence of that. As for the civilizing effect of religion, there seems to be none, only various sects and religions vying with each other to be the most barbarous. Not to be diverted from the attempt on Richard's life, Christian interrupts Lymond's soliloquy to inquire on assassination or murder for private motives. 

Lymond claims he is ignorant of what motivated the attack on his brother--perhaps the usual suspects: greed, hate, envy, religious conflict, a lover's revenge. Lymond rejects only the last of these because Richard is "a remarkably dull and blameless creature." I wonder if he really views his brother this way.

Christian will not let Lymond off easy and continues sparring with him, saying she values candor above self-control. Lymond's comments on truth are a wonderful thing to read. He points out that truth-telling is often used as a weapon to inflict pain and increase suffering, even driving people to "the river and the dagger and the pillow in a quiet corner" (to suicide, to murder, and to despair). Furthermore, if Christian got the candor she craves regarding her mystery man's identity, it might cause irreparable harm to them both, but most especially to her: there would be "no possible going back once [the truth about his identity is] out."

Keep in mind Lymond's hypothetical example of whether or not he murdered his own sister.

Christian remains one of the few people who can genuinely surprise Lymond and verbally spar with him. When she points out that he and not she would deservedly suffer for his misdeeds should they be discovered, he laughs at her candor, wondering if she would even enjoy his punishment (pretend you wouldn't like to see me struggling at the end of the noose, i.e., "dance a vuelta on the widdy"). 

Lymond continues to put a great deal of faith both in his ability to paint a certain image of himself with his voice as well as Christian's ability to discern his true nature from his voice and words. So far, his faith has not been misplaced. And, again, Christian comes through for him with the news about Johnathon Crouch. Remember, Christian learned all this from Sybilla after her visit to Patey Liddell's shop where she overheard George Douglas and Andrew Hunter. It seems clear from what she says that Christian does not know Lymond is the man who took Crouch from Hunter's house. 

Lymond is momentarily taken aback when Christian asks for her fortune to be told before she leaves, but Francis agrees in part to give her something to satisfy the suspicions of Tom and in part, I believe, because he does not want her to go just yet. He enjoys the company of someone with whom he can freely be himself precisely because she (supposedly) does not know who he is. 

I believe the mock fortune Lymond reads in Christian's palm shows his profound disdain for all forms of fortune telling and mysticism. He makes the absurd claim that Christian appears to "have died at the age of seven" and then goes on to utter the typical bromides that Johnnie Bullo spouts: you'll get the most out of life, meet the man of your dreams, get your heart's desire, etc. But then just as unexpectedly, Lymond speaks from his heart: "what are we, after all? Charlatans, faiseurs d'horoscope..." That, I think, is what Lymond truly believes. He has no time for tellers of fortunes, readers of palms, or casters of horoscopes.

As the time for parting draws near, it seems neither Lymond nor Christian wants to go. There is a deep attraction and empathy between them. Lymond first offers the "apologue" (moral fable) of the sands of time being reversed so that they can meet again, and then tries a quotation from a traditional chanson de mal-mariée, which expresses the grievances of an unhappy wife. Dunnett's own translation of the poem sheds an interesting light on it:

Jealous, grudging and tart
Death can haunt him
Sweet and vivid and fond--
Then I want him. (from The Dorothy Dunnett Companion, Vol 1, p 135)

There are many possible ways to interpret why Lymond chooses this snippet, but I believe he sees himself as both "jealous, grudging and tart" (and worthy of death) and "sweet and vivid and fond" (and desirable). This may sound odd, but I think it makes sense when you consider that we have seen these two radically opposed "Lymonds": one very unpleasant, even cruel, and another very charming and lovable. Lymond is not at all happy having to play the divers parts required by the terrible circumstances of his life and not being seen for who and what he is.

Or it could be as simple as his thinking of Mariotta, the '"unhappy wife," whose fortune he has just heard Johnnie Bullo tell, undoubtedly one with a very happy ending involving a "sweet and vivid and fond" lover.

Before Christian leaves, Francis tells her he will write to her (no, he hasn't suddenly forgotten she has to have someone else read letters to her): he simply tells her to "wait and see." Lymond will find a way. The last quotation Christian hears Francis uttering brings their conversation full circle. It also confirms his identity; why else speak of the poor papingo (papinjay)? 

Wouldn't you love to have heard Johnnie Bullo's "chastely phrased double-entendres" in the fortunes he told Mariotta and Agnes? And his description of Agnes is incomparable: "a face like a pound of candles on a hot day." Lucky for her she is rich. 

At the end of the chapter Lymond tells Johnnie he has had a very annoying day, probably because of what happened--or didn't happen--at the papingo shoot. Events did not turn out to his liking. Lymond's leave-taking of Johnnie is classic Lymond: at once careful and brisk. Notice he leaves a "small memento" for Johnnie, certainly one to the gypsy king's profit. The other payment Lymond offers Johnnie may be more valuable: the raw pleasure of watching a master at work.

Questions

1. Sybilla invited the gypsies to Bogle House before Richard was injured at the papingo shoot. Did her motives for doing so change once the incident occurred?
2. Does Sybilla know that Bullo has a message for Christian? Is that why Sybilla wants to go to the fair that night? Are she and Christian in cahoots?
3. Can you think of other examples of Sybilla's "own brand of humane genius"?
4. Why does Christian blush when Sybilla mentions "love potions" when speaking of the Philosopher's Stone?
5. Why did Lymond leave his shooting glove behind, knowing it could be used to identify and track him? Was it accidental?

Favorite Line

"Truth's nothing but falsehood with the edges sharpened up, and ill-tempered at that: no repair, no retraction, no possible going back once it's out."

Words that Describe Lymond in A Variety of Mating Replies, 2. Check and Cross Check

• sober (not drunk)
• voluable
• witty
• clever
• mocking
• sensitive
• cynical
• thoughtful
• annoyed
• conflicted
• worried

Part One. The Play for Jonathan Crouch. Chapter VI. Forced Move for a Minor Piece

Melrose Abbey

Having learned from Christian (Ch. III, More Blindfold Play) that Jonathan Crouch is the prisoner of George Douglas, Lymond slips into Douglas's home at Dalkeith disguised as a messenger. After being threatened by Lymond with the contents of a captured message from Lord Grey to the Protector that contains some very damning information about him, Douglas tells Lymond he no longer has Crouch but "sold" him to Andrew Hunter. Douglas also informs Lymond that he must, as a gentleman, tell Hunter someone is looking for Crouch, and broadly hints that Lymond can join his men traveling to Ballaggan as a way of getting into Hunter's home to look for Crouch. This deal is satisfactory to Lymond, who seals the agreement with a hogshead of "stirred up" beer. Douglas understands the irony in this gift, that is, it is the same beer that was destined for Lord Grey's men at Hume but which never made it.

Dorothy Dunnett's singular wit is showcased in the opening of this short chapter as she shows with delicious malice how the "hoax at Hume" gained a life of its own and traveled round the countryside and through the towns and down the valleys, growing in humorous effect as it turned every corner and crossed every stream. 

Her portrayal of George Douglas is equally delectable. Initially, Douglas is too distracted to notice the "messenger's" completely inappropriate, haughty quip about the Protector:

"Forgive the delay. I cannot always receive the Lord Protector's messages as freely as I should wish." ...

"I am sure his Grace would be unhappy to think otherwise, Sir George." 

No real messenger would ever dare say such a thing. Douglas is clearly preoccupied or he would have been all over this flippant remark in the wink of an eye. However, the next words out of the Lymond's mouth get Douglas's full attention. He says not one word until Lymond has finished his long, eloquent, and threatening soliloquy. Even then, George reacts with Lymond-like aplomb, seating himself "negligently near the door" (of course...cut off Lymond's escape or make his own easier) before coolly responding.

The intercepted message from Grey to the Protector reveals that Douglas is working to advance the marriage of Queen Mary to Edward of England and convince his brothers to betray Arran (the Governor of Scotland). This is all done under threat, clearly, but still George does not want these facts made known to anyone. The Douglases definitely do play both sides, to their advantage and to their detriment.

George really seems the only person we have thus far met who might be an adversary equal to Lymond. Notice the things they share in common: 

• both are fastidious about grooming and dress
• where others gaffaw, they apply thoughtful analysis
• neither can be easily thrown off balance (George displays "undisturbed calm," even when openly threatened)
• both are perfectly willing to lie and conceal the truth (George is lying when he says the Queen already knows about his subterfuge and Lymond again conceals his identity)
• both are sharp-witted and admire that quality in the other
• each man understands the other's subtle way of expressing himself (Lymond understands Douglas is offering to smuggle him into Ballaggan, and Douglas understands where the hogshead of beer came from).

I am sure Lymond reciprocates George Douglas's reaction to him: "For an instant he was overcome with an extraordinary feeling of kinship for this odd, sharp-witted person." Two sleek leopards admiring the other's sharp wit and sharper claws.

Osprey, sans collar and chain

Of course, as much as he is fascinated by his importunate visitor, George sees the "messenger" not as a leopard but as a "wild cormorant, an acidulous osprey" to be captured and chained "with 'Douglas' in fine Gothic letters on the neck." George, I'm sure, knows that the cormorant and osprey are formidable, vigorous predators.

One other small comment worth noting: when Douglas says to Lymond, "You could become a rich man," Lymond replies, "I am a rich man." This is the first indication that Francis Crawford may have more resources than we had realized before. We know his men are well paid, so does he have wealth beyond what he and his band of outlaws have stolen? I think it's worth keeping in mind as the story progresses. 

***

The next scene at Ballaggan Castle extends the humorous tone of the preceding section, giving us an inside view of the Hunters, mother and son, as well as a priceless introduction to the mysterious Mr. Crouch. His garrulousness has been hinted at earlier, but now we see it in full flower. Crouch is a character Dickens or Austen would have been proud to call his or her own. Notice Crouch has been at Ballaggan for some time--"He droned through September until it and its captors were exhausted; then pounced on October with undimmed vigour and then worried the blameless days for a fortnight." This means he has been with Hunter for at least a month and probably longer. 

Dandy Hunter's relationship with his mother, another exquisitely drawn and memorable small character, is painfully awful. Poor Dandy tries his best to please the lady, but her tastes are not only expensive, they are also hard for him to anticipate or satisfy. She has stuffed Ballaggan with a hodgepodge of expensive items, many of which do not seem to fit in happy comfort with each other: the floors are brightly colored Spanish tile covered with a mix of Near Eastern carpets; the beds are gilded metal hung with taffeta; the furniture is wood and marble covered by tapestries. It all sounds expensive but also gauche, a word Dunnett uses to describe the keep. Mother Hunter's taste is as bad as it is pricey, but all that matters to Dandy is he must try to satisfy her. 

But satisfying her is something young Hunter cannot do. In addition to her hobby of collecting costly stuff, Lady Hunter's other favorite pastime is castigating Andrew, who cannot live up to his dead older brother. Even the fact that he has fought nobly and well brings only a comment that Crouch much later will recount to his wife. (Crouch survives to tell the tale!) "The old sow" implies the fact of Andrew's surviving the battles he fought unscathed is somehow another failure.

Symbol of Henri II

In his ongoing effort to please his mother, Dandy has a new object to offer her: a very expensive brooch. But it is not just any brooch; it appears to have belonged to Diane de Poitiers, King Henri II of France's favorite and very powerful paramour. Crouch immediately recognizes the insignia (the H entwined with the double-Ds). Where Crouch sees an extraordinary piece of jewelry purchased at great price and carrying enormous significance because of its previous owner, Lady Hunter, ironically, sees only vulgarity. Nor is she at all concerned about the money Dandy must have spent to acquire the piece, viewing it as another step in his so far failed aesthetic education.

Dandy finds a few minutes blessed relief welcoming George Douglas's secretary, even though the news he brings is disturbing. Notice that on the way back upstairs to his mother's room a torch has gone out (Dunnett's attention to detail again). The room is in semi-darkness, but it is the "miraculous silence" that alerts Hunter. What is especially noteworthy about the ensuing fight with Lymond is that Dandy appears to be getting the upper hand, but at the critical moment Hunter realizes the limp body is a ruse to put him off his guard. 

Watch for Lymond seeming to be defeated when in fact he is toying with his opponent (ruse v. reality, an important theme). Also watch for Lymond's inappropriate, barely disguised "hilarity" at such moments.

Lymond again demonstrates not only the supremacy of his fighting skill but also the potency of his venom: "I'll break you a limb in the Turkish style as often as you like." The reference to Turkish style combat is another indication of the wide range of Lymond's expertise and experience.

At last, Francis Crawford has his hands on Jonathan Crouch. Can you imagine what the ably trussed Mr. Crouch must be thinking and feeling as he watches Lymond systematically destroy Andrew Hunter, no mean fighter himself? And, of course, Mother Hunter has her poor opinion of her disappointing son reinforced. 

Questions

1. Does George Douglas know who the "messenger" is? Remember: Lymond has covered his distinctive yellow hair.
2. Why hasn't Andrew Hunter made the exchange of Crouch for his "beloved" cousin?
3. The beating Lymond gives Hunter is vicious. What would drive him to this level of seemingly wanton cruelty?

Favorite Line

"With Mr. Crouch came his tongue, his teeth, his hard and soft palate, his maxillary muscles, larynx, epiglottis and lungs: all the apparatus which enabled him, ne plus ultra, to talk."

Words that Describe Lymond in Forced Move for a Minor Piece

• playful
• cruel
• subtle
• perspicacious
• disciplined
• deceitful
• menacing
• brazen
• determined
• imperturbable
• strong
• rich

Part One. The Play for Jonathan Crouch. Chapter IV. Several Moves by a Knight

Who is missing from this chapter? Lymond. He does not appear at all, and he is only briefly, but tantalizingly, discussed.

1. Mishap to a Queening Pawn

The chapter begins the day after Christian and Francis meet on the banks of the Lake of Menteith. Dunnett's sardonic humor in drawing the comparison between the Crawford brother is exquisite:

"Lord Culter was also taking aquatic exercise..."

We learn that Culter has been very busy leading his men to unexpected successes against the English near the border. His style could not be more different from Lymond's. Richard's leadership is remote and laconic, not words anyone would ascribe to Lymond. However, Richard's style is highly effective. He not only successfully harries the English troops under Wharton as they turn tail towards England, he also shows himself an accomplished diplomat who is remarkably effective at convincing these nineteen hundred Scots near the border either to withhold or reduce their support to the English. 

Richard may not be a flamboyant or passionate leader, but he should not be underestimated. In fact, compare Richard's successes to what Lymond has thus far done. Lymond has:

• broken into Mungo Tennant's house and robbed him;
• robbed his family and guests at Midculter;
• set Midculter on fire;
• sneaked into Annan, attacked Henry Wharton, stolen Lord Wharton's money;
• attacked Richard and his men outside Annan.

In short, Lymond's activities are at best questionable, and all seem small and self-serving, while his older brother's are significant military and political successes against Scotland's enemy. Who's the hero here?

Certainly the answer to at least one person is Richard. Enter a new and refreshing character in the person of 13-year-old Agnes Herries. Yes, Agnes is a historical personage. I only hope she was like the Agnes Dunnett created! Agnes is wrapped up in her fantastical world of troubadours and knights in shining armor...or no armor at all. Agnes is like a 16th century female Walter Mitty. She is in love with being in love, and her very active imagination fills in the blanks and turns all the dull grays of her world into bright and vivid colors. 

Agnes, in short, is a lot of fun. She has not let the fact that she is awkward and loud and not at all pretty spoil her enjoyment of life one little bit. She "has her own resources," which she calls on at will. Her protean imagination uses whatever raw material is at hand, whether the "prosaic back" of the unsmiling Lord Culter or the twinkling eyes of Dandy Hunter. Her hero conveniently shifts with the changing scene.

Lord Culter is painstakingly oblivious to Lady Herries's girlish infatuations and daydreams. Imagine Lymond were in his place. It is inconceivable that he would not have been sharply attuned to Agnes's mood and fantasies. Surely he would have relished playing the role of knight, troubadour, and hero. Francis Crawford has many failings, but indifference and abstruseness towards women of all ages is not one of them.

The River Nith looking bucolic

I wonder if Agnes notices that the real hero of the moment may not smile but indeed has a rare dark sense of humor. It takes a remarkably prepossessing wit to say, immediately upon saving his charge from a swirling death by drowning, "My God, we need practice at that. Shall we do it again?" 

Thinking back to the chapter's epigraph, Richard embodies all the best qualities of a knight: he is wise, liberal, true, strong and full of mercy and pity...and sometimes his art, craft, and energy is worth more than strength or hardiness. Lord Culter, in short, shows he is everything Lady Herries dreams of--and everything Lymond appears not to be.

2 A Knight Wins an Exchange

After the disaster at the Nith, Lord Culter, Lady Herries, Andrew Hunter, and Culter's men end up at James Douglas's "overornate" estate instead of Hunter's "exhausted" one. The point of Richard's heroism is driven home by the fact that he single-handedly saved Agnes because his own men were upstream and Dandy had ridden on ahead (without making sure Richard and Agnes had safely crossed the river). 

Not surprisingly, the house is full of Douglases, most interestingly, the splendid George Douglas. Dandy takes this opportunity to ask George if he would be willing to exchange his prisoner, Jonathan Crouch, for one of Hunter's cousins (a "favorite" of his mother). Remember in the last chapter Tom Erskine told Dandy that George Douglas had been in Stirling but had left for Drumlanrig, so Hunter knew where to find George and seemed eager to do so. Now we know why. Dandy also seems overly eager to get his hands on Crouch and make the exchange happen.

At the end of the section, Richard Crawford's singular, droll sense of humor is again on exhibit in his response to the wily, astute George Douglas, who knows Richard has indeed heard his conversation with Hunter. George may be a half-tamed leopard, but Richard is a disciplined thoroughbred.

The following morning's breakfast finds Agnes fully recovered and eager to resume her adventure with her oblivious hero. Richard and Dandy both seem to enjoy teasing Agnes with the prospect of the papingo and the fair, but there is a strong undercurrent of danger as well. Hunter is again the one to bring up the threat Lymond poses to his brother at the papingo shoot, quite probably to gauge Richard's response: "Hot water under cold ice." Passion well disguised and hidden under the Baron Culter's "remote, laconic" exterior. 

And now, in the chapter's last scene, we are privy to a delectable conversation between three Douglases, brothers Archie and George and their brother-in-law James (who is also a Douglas). The most important disclosure is that the Douglases in general and George most particularly are playing a very, very dangerous double game. They are trying to work both the English and the Scots, giving each side just enough to keep them satisfied but not enough to disclose their duplicity. I can imagine how difficult and stressful it must have been to walk this tightrope at a time when one slip could topple one's home and one's head.

Archibald Douglas, 6th Earl of Angus

Archie, George's not-so-subtle elder brother, makes a vicious comment about Richard Crawford's effectiveness in influencing the border families. George's remark about Lymond's "intelligence system" is also telling. George Douglas no doubt has one of the best intelligence networks in the border region, so the fact that he is impressed by Lymond's is something indeed. Just as he did with Will Scott, George sees Lymond as a kindred spirit (a mercenary out for himself alone), and wants very much to use Francis Crawford's formidable talents to his own advantage. 

But George knows he is missing some important puzzle pieces. For example, as connected as George Douglas is, he does not know the back story about Lymond, Lennox, and Margaret Douglas. And does he ever want to find out! It could very well give him leverage not only with Lymond but also with members of his own family.

Thanks to George we finally learn why the English left Scotland. The Protector only had food for his troops for a month, planning, as always to rely upon the border Scots to replenish his food stores. That did not happen, first, because George Douglas made sure his family held back supplies from the English and, second, because of the effectiveness  of Lord Culter in persuading the border lairds not to help the English this time. In short, without the aid and comfort of the Scottish border landowners, the English could not sustain their offensive.

Billhooks

George thinks he has it all figured out: with winter coming, no military action is going to take place, so for the moment everything is frozen in place. George again displays his conniving, self-serving cynicism with his suggestion that Archie wait for really bad weather to set in and then suggest Lennox come north with his troops, knowing it won't happen. But simply suggesting the invasion will put the Douglases once again in the good graces of the English.

The chapter ends with some of George Douglas's most memorable lines, showing just how clever and devilishly witty he is. One important thing to remember: Lord Grey of Wilton now commands Berwick and is still recovering from an injury. He was injured in the mouth by a billhook (a curved blade at the end of a polearm weapon), and it has affected his speech rather profoundly. 


Questions to Ponder

1. Why does Andrew Hunter want Crouch in particular when any English prisoner would do in exchange for his cousin?
2. How does Hunter know George Douglas has Crouch as his prisoner? We know Dandy was in Annan (he mentions it in this chapter and the preceding one) but we do not know how he learned who was holding Crouch. 
3. Why isn't Hunter surprised to discover Lord Culter's "hot water under cold ice"?
4. Why is Richard determined to compete in the papingo shoot?

Favorite Line

George Douglas says Lord Grey is "...a clammy, stiff-backed old pike. The billhook, I'll bargain, came out lichened over."

Words that Describe Lymond in Several Moves by a Knight (even though he does not appear)

• treacherous
• duplicitous
• slippery
• well-informed
• mysterious

Part One: The Play for Jonathan Crouch. Chapter I: Taking en Passant

1. The English Opening

I wonder who Jonathan Crouch is...

He is listed among the characters as a former officer of the Royal Household and prisoner of war. That's all we know except Lymond wants to find him.

Translation into modern English of the last line of the epigram:
"...and if it be in time of war, they ought not open the gates by night to any man." ...even if he seems to be one of yours.

We meet Lymond's band of merry and not so merry men, in particular Turkey Mat and Johnnie Bullo. What I find interesting about this group, which is undoubtedly made up of rough men with rougher backgrounds, is that they are not ruffians. Turkey Mat is a former soldier, a veteran of some serious battles, including at least three against the Ottomans. Johnnie is a gypsy (we'll learn more about him as time goes on). 

During the conversation between Johnnie and Turkey Mat, Turkey says that Lymond's men met an English messenger carrying dispatches from "The Protector" to his commander in Annan. 

Edward Seymour, Lord Protector of England

The Protector refers to the Lord Protector of England, Edward, Duke of Somerset, King Edward's uncle. He is also called Somerset. He is waging war on Scotland, again.

Not only did Lymond not capture or kill the messenger, he sent one of his men to make sure the messenger, who we later learn is named Bannister, gets to Annan with his message.  

More clues to Lymond's character: Johnnie Bullo notes Francis's appearance as he arrives at camp: "...the dairy-maid skin, the gilded hair, the long hands jewelled to display their beauty." Francis's appearance is in stark contrast both to that of his men and to the setting. He is like a butterfly flitting among horseflies. Also, DD's descriptions of characters' hands are revealing. Pay attention to how she describes Lymond's and certain other personage's hands. 

Enter Will Scott, who is the young man Janet Buccleuch and Sybilla are discussing at Midculter. What sets Will apart from Lymond's men is that he is of Francis Crawford's social class, with a classical education and formal training in the arts of weaponry and war. When he offers a Latin quotation, "flat incomprehension informed every face" except, of course, Lymond's. Will is something new: a potential rival to Lymond.

But Will has a long way to go to challenge Francis, whose own men describe him as "the devil" with a "tongue like a thorn tree." Lymond certainly demonstrates on Will his ability to humiliate, going so far as to call him "infant" and, hilariously, listing "wetting the bed at night" as one reason for Will wanting to join the band. 

Francis uses Will to punish one Oyster Charlie, who has been giving Lymond "a little trouble." Francis warns Oyster, whose "hearing is sensational," that an attack is coming, so Will proves his willingness to kill and Oyster gets a painful but less than fatal lesson. 

Lymond also quotes from Thomas More's A Merry Jest, how a Serjeant would learn to play the Friar, "When a hatter/will go smatter..."

This quotation is interesting on several levels. In the poem a sergeant disguises himself as a friar to get into the house of a thief who is pretending to be sick in bed. Unfortunately for the sergeant, even though the ruse works, he ends up getting the beating of his life. The point of the poem, written when More was a young man, is that people should stick to what they know and to their own profession. 

The moral of the story applies both to Will Scott, who wants to become an outlaw, and to Lymond himself, who is clearly operating outside his milieu and given to using ruses and disguises ("I propose to appear in one of my twenty-two incarnations"). Francis knows he is playing a dangerous game. It is unclear if Will also realizes the potential pitfalls and dangers of the life he proposes to lead.

The mortification of Will Scott is painful to read, so thorough is it, culminating in the disclosure that Francis knew all along who Will is. The humiliation is Will's hazing ritual, to test if he is serious about joining Lymond and if he can be trusted not to betray him. Maybe Francis really does think he can trust Will, or maybe he simply wants to use him to his advantage, which is immediately borne out by Lymond taking Will with him to Annan.

2. Pins and Counterpins

Lymond is going to Annan, this time playing the part of an English soldier, to look for the mysterious Jonathan Crouch. Thus far we do not know why he seeks Crouch. 

Nothing seems to go right at Annan. First, Lymond discovers Crouch has been taken prisoner on the battlefield, but by whom the English commander does not know. Next, the commander, who is not entirely without his suspicions about these two men who suddenly appear at the city gates, insists on taking Lymond to see Wharton, who has threatened to gut him publicly. Wharton may not recognize Lymond, but Lennox will. 

Just as Francis and Will seemingly have extricated themselves from this deadly danger, what does Lymond do but force Wharton's son to take him to his father, much to Will's shock and dismay. 

"The events which followed were always to have for Will Scott of Kincurd the curious narcotic quality of a bout of fever." Such a vivid and apt description! It rings true to anyone who has ever had the surreal experience of horror and fear tinged with the chilling thrill of walking on the knife edge of disaster.

The wordplay between Lennox and Lymond, which says so much and yet leaves so much unanswered, is a beautiful thing to behold. What we learn:

1. Lennox and Lymond have a history.
2. Lennox stole a shipload of gold from the Scottish Queen Dowager (Mary of Guise) and took off for England.
3. Lennox was responsible at some point for freeing Francis from "his stinking oars," which indicates Francis was trapped in a very bad situation, yet to be explained.
4. Francis hits Lennox below the belt with this curious comment, which alludes to Lennox's wife, Margaret: "I was brought up in bad company. From oar to oar, you might say."
5. Francis and Margaret Douglas, Lady Lennox, also have a history.

Lymond tells Wharton and Lennox the (purported) contents of the Protector's dispatch Bannister is carrying. Furthermore, Francis plays to the Englishmen's vanity and ambition, saying that the Protector wants to talk to Lennox at Stirling about putting him on the throne of Scotland and Wharton on the Privy Council. 

Continuing in his role as rogue, outlaw, and thief, Lymond liberates Wharton's gold, which will help Francis finance his activities, and, in what seems to be a wanton act of cruelty, drops a helmet that has been heating in the fire onto the head of Wharton's son Henry. However, it's important to remember a few things. 

1. Henry Wharton is 25 years old, hardly a child.
2. Henry is "already a leader of horse," meaning he is a military commander and thus involved in the sacking of Annan.
3. Annan has been burned and pillaged. Many innocent men, women, and children have died or lost everything in this English attack on their town.

Lymond's action of dropping the flaming helmet on Henry's head is symbolic payback for the cruelty inflicted on Annan, which suffered by fire. It also serves the important purpose of creating a distraction that allows Francis and Will to escape.

3. Capture of a King's Pawn

In the aftermath of the terrible defeat at Pinkie, Richard Crawford (Lord Culter) and Tom Erskine, with their beaten and tattered men, are going to try to stop the English from moving north to Stirling, where the Scottish Court and other noblewomen with their children have been sent for safety.

Into their arms walks Charlie Bannister, the English messenger bound for Annan. Bannister destroys the message he is carrying and refuses to give up the contents, which he has unwisely let the Scots know he has read. Faced with a terrible dilemma of whether to stay put or go north to try to protect Stirling, Richard decides to do just that. 

Richard sends his man to get Erskine so they can join forces and move towards Stirling when Lymond's men descend on Culter and his company. Lymond's aim is to free Bannister and send him on his way to deliver his message. Francis infuriates his brother and his brother's men with his outrageous behavior and language.

Recurring theme: "After all, I'm on the horse, like the frog in the story..."  

From "The Battle of the Frogs and Mice"

Frogs and mice are first alluded to in Opening Gambit when Francis says "and tonight the frogs and mice fight, eh, Mungo?" 

This may be an allusion to Batrachomyomachia or "The Battle of  Mice," a parody of the Iliad, something a person of Francis's education would know. Or it may refer to "The Ballad of the Frog and the Mouse," which is included in The Lymond Poetry, an anthology compiled by Dunnett herself. Most likely, Francis is thinking of both.

However, in the scene with Richard, Francis, sitting on his horse looking down at his brother, clearly alludes to the latter ballad.

"When upon his [the frog's] high horse sat
Humble-dum, humble-dum
His boots they shone as black as jet..."

This version is actually by Thomas Ravenscroft, originally titled "The Marriage of the Frogge and the Mouse," published in 1611. But there is an older Scottish version that first appeared in print in 1548, which means the ballad would have been part of popular culture for some time before appearing in print. The Scottish version is from The Complaynt of Scotland, written in reaction to England's "Rough Wooing" of Mary, Queen of Scots by Henry VIII.

Why would Francis evoke this children's song when talking to his brother? There are many possible explanations, but I think perhaps the primary reason is to remind Richard in a subtle way of their shared childhood experiences and familial ties. Think about the stories and songs you shared as a child with siblings and how they make a lifelong mark on you. It takes only a word or two for all the associated memories to come flooding back into your mind the way the smell of a madeleine evoked Proust's childhood for him.

Richard, as the elder brother, may have sung this to his little brother. Or perhaps, as was the case in my own family, it was a grandparent who sang the ballad to them both.

Lymond is rude, obnoxious, and vulgar in addressing Richard. He comments on Richard having put on weight, mentions the fire that could have killed his wife and mother ("encaramelled" them...what an image!), asks crudely if Marriota is pregnant ("am I superseded yet?"), and admits that he has taken money from Wharton ("Well, he's certainly paying me." Ha, ha). Francis also tells Richard that the Protector is to the north in or near Stirling, where the Court and the women were placed for protection, and Wharton will be heading that way as soon as Bannister delivers his message at Annan.

As Erskine's men arrive, Richard takes his opportunity to lash out at his brother, accusing him of wanting to claim his baronetcy and his wife. In response, Francis backhandedly challenges Richard to a shooting contest (the Popinjay) in Stirling, betting his elder brother will not be able to resist such a goad.

Questions to Ponder

1. Francis's appearance is clearly important to him. Why does he play up his beauty, his wealth, his glamour? Does he have a motive or is he merely vain?
2. Why does Francis tell Wharton and Lennox the Protector wants them to go north to Stirling?
3. Why does Francis tell Richard the message orders the English troops north to Stirling?
4. Why does Francis want Richard to meet him at the Popinjay challenge at the Wapenshaw in Stirling?

Favorite Line

"Oyster is not dead; merely lightly boiled in the shell."

Words that Describe Lymond in Taking en Passant

• duplicitous
• hot-tempered
• treacherous
• daring
• cruel
• condescending
• rude
• clever
• vain
• funny (e.g., favorite line above)