‘There he is!’ he suddenly cried. Robert swung the telescope around and accidentally swiped Henry across his forehead. ‘Ow!’
‘Where?’ demanded Robert excitedly.
‘I was joking,’ Henry snapped, rubbing his head crossly. It looked painful: Robert’s enthusiasm could be quite dangerous.
‘You idiot!’ Robert cried, and used the telescope deliberately this time to whack Henry in the ribs.
‘Enough!’ Murray snatched the telescope and tweaked Robert’s ear. ‘Do you want Major Keyes’ first sight of you to be squabbling on the battlements?’
‘He won’t come for ages,’ mumbled Henry, trying to rub his ribs and his head at the same time.
‘He’s coming now,’ said Murray. ‘Look.’
The boys turned again to the wall. Just wheeling in to the end of the short drive was a fine carriage – so Henry had been right – with a riding horse trotting along behind it, ridden by a groom – so Robert had been right. On either side of Murray, the boys had suddenly gone quiet. The carriage wheels turned briskly on the gravel, and soon they could hear them echo off the front of the castle. Robert was pale. Henry said, with much less than his usual assurance,
‘Do you think we could go down?’
‘Do you think we should?’ Robert whispered. Both of them were clutching the battlements with white knuckles, suddenly overawed. A real hero was suddenly really here, whether he was their cousin or not.
‘I think you probably should,’ said Murray. ‘Your father will want to introduce you to him. Let’s see you both? Hands? Straighten your waistcoat, Robert. Henry, just wipe the toe of your boot there where you have dust on it. Right, you both look very respectable. Fit to meet a hero.’ Henry’s temple was beginning to bruise nicely, but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment. Deborah would have ointment to bring the bruise out, but just now she would have other things on her mind. He patted both boys on the shoulder and pushed them gently towards the door to the winding staircase that would take them back down the tower to meet their intimidating guest.
Downstairs in the hall everything was in a fluster. Naismyth was on his knees, lifting invisible dust off the floor and hiding it in his pockets. The little maid, Grisell, gave a last wipe to a dented breastplate on the wall and vanished through the door to the servants’ corridor, skirt tails flying. There was a squeal as the door closed, then it shot open again and Beatrix appeared, having just collided with Grisell. She straightened her hair and took her place at the back of the hall. Lord Scoggie stood by the stairs, apparently calm, but the twitching of his hands betrayed him, though he clutched them together. Guests, heroic or not, were not common in his rural fastness. Murray took the boys over to stand beside Beatrix, and they exchanged small smiles. There was a patter on the stairs, and Deborah appeared, slippers light on every second step as she flung herself down to stand by her father.
‘Can’t find her,’ she gasped, just as the doorbell was clanged enthusiastically outside. Naismyth rose to his feet, face arranged into a bland expression, and straightened his coat. He stalked to the door with measured stork-strides, and opened it as if he had been practising.
It was as if a bear had entered the hall in search of honey. A large man stooped through the doorway, then swung himself into their presence, bright in his red regimental coat with a sweeping cloak tossed back over his shoulders. He pulled off his shako in a sweeping movement, and shouted:
‘Scoggie! Scoggie, my friend, it is a delight to see you again! The old place has not changed one jot! And you, in the midst of your family as ever!’
Lord Scoggie had been in mid-bow, but Major Keyes seized his hand in both of his and shook it as if trying to pull a sword from the body of his enemy. Lord Scoggie’s face was a picture. Robert and Henry stood with their mouths open. Only Deborah and Beatrix managed for the moment to remain smiling politely.
Finally released, Lord Scoggie brought them into the scene as quickly as he could.
‘My daughter Deborah,’ he presented her, ‘and over there our cousin Beatrix Pirrie.’
Major Keyes made a ludicrously low bow to each lady.
‘My, Miss Deborah, when I last saw you you were two hands higher than a duck and still amongst your dolls. And now look at you! You’d look well on the arm of any officer! Miss Beatrix, my respects. You’ll find me a brash companion, no doubt, for I am little used to the ways of ladies.’ He bowed again, while Bea and Deborah quickly exchanged glances over his back. Murray could not quite interpret them. Keyes, though, was moving quickly on as though the girls were too hot a fire to stand near. ‘And who are these young men?’
Lord Scoggie nodded to Murray, who pushed the boys forward to make their bows.
‘My elder son, Henry, and my younger son, Robert,’ said Lord Scoggie, waiting for approval.
‘Good day, sir,’ said the boys politely, and bowed to perfection. Murray felt unexpectedly proud of them. When it mattered, maybe they did know how to behave. Then Robert let out a cry, and fell over, knocking Henry down against the wall. Suddenly, from nowhere, an immense white dog was on top of them, licking their heads and hands for all it was worth.
‘Tippoo, down!’ Keyes lunged for the dog’s collar, and hauled it off before anyone else could move. ‘All right, boys? He’s a friendly sort of dog, but sometimes he likes a bit of a joke, eh, Tippoo?’
The boys pulled themselves up, keeping a careful eye on the dog, which now sat by Keyes’ leg. Their dark coats were thick with white hairs, and they were wide-eyed with shock. Lord Scoggie stepped in.
‘Tippoo, eh? Grand name for a dog, I suppose. Hey, Tippoo? Good dog.’ Tippoo did not respond, but kept his eye on the boys. ‘Ah, Keyes, it’s not long to dinner. You’ll want to change and so on ...’
‘But where’s Lady Scoggie? Where’s my fair cousin?’ Keyes demanded suddenly, looking about him as if he thought they might have her hidden amongst the armoury. Deborah met Beatrix’ eye again.
‘I’m afraid my mother is out at the moment. We had not expected you until later in the day, though we are delighted to find you were able to reach us earlier. My mother is very much involved in charitable work about the parish.’ She looked a little desperately at her father. ‘May I show you to your chamber? I hope you will find it adequate for your stay.’
‘By all means, Miss Deborah – show me all the way.’ Major Keyes grabbed the hand rail and swung his leg up on to the first step of the stairs, and followed her up and out of sight. The dog, with a longing look at Robert and Henry, paused for a moment, then joined the small procession. The party in the hall listened to Major Keyes remarking loudly on the unchanging decor of Scoggie Castle and the contrasting changes in Deborah all the way up the stairs and when the sounds faded a little, they relaxed, visibly.
‘Beatrix, dear,’ said Lord Scoggie, ‘if you have not already done so, please tell Mrs. Costane we shall not want dinner for another hour. I know that is later than our usual hour, but I am in need of a moment to catch my breath. I shall be in the library, should anyone really need me.’
Stepping carefully, as though not entirely sure of the reliability of his legs, Lord Scoggie crossed the hall and vanished into his bolthole. Naismyth disappeared outside to deal with Major Keyes’ heroic luggage, and Beatrix and Murray were left with the boys in the hall.
‘Well, he is safely arrived, then,’ said Murray.
‘Just as well,’ said Beatrix, ‘or the dinner in his honour would have looked a little foolish.’
‘That’s not today, is it?’
‘No, no: it’s on the first of November. The whole county will be here. You’re expected to eat with the family, too, so there’s no chance of getting out of it.’ She sneaked a mischievous smile. ‘You know how Lord Scoggie likes to show off your intellectual conversation.’
Murray scowled, and changed the subject.
‘Henry has a bruise on his head,’ he said. ‘Could he have some ointment for it?’
‘Surely,
’ said Beatrix, letting out a long breath. ‘Was it the dog, Henry?’
‘No, it was Robert. With a telescope.’
‘You make it sound as if he needed it to aim with,’ Beatrix smiled.
‘No, just to hit with.’ Henry was resigned to his brother’s violence. Robert was less used to injury.
‘That dog should be on a chain,’ he muttered. ‘It does as much damage as Tippoo Sultan himself.’
‘It’s probably how it got its name,’ Murray said. ‘We’ll just have to watch out for it.’ The boys had really been shaken by the incident. The dog might have been licking them on this occasion, but Murray had seen the size of its teeth. ‘No dinner for another hour – go up to the schoolroom and Beatrix will bring some ointment, and I’ll see if I can persuade Mrs. Costane to give us some milk to make chocolate. Stoke up the fire, and I’ll be up shortly.’
‘We’re not babies, you know,’ said Robert, but they went up anyway.
Lady Scoggie must have been detained in the village, for she did not appear for dinner. Deborah, with the air of someone who has decided to hold the fort for now and deal with the courts martial later, took the place of hostess with almost her usual self-assurance. The boys, fortified by chocolate, were relaxed as long as they knew that the dog Tippoo was over by the fireplace where they could see him. A fire had been lit, surreptitiously, by Deborah’s orders, and Lord Scoggie had not been heard to object when he saw it, so the Great Hall was a mosaic of hot and cold patches. Major Keyes did not appear to notice.
Now that he was sitting still enough, Murray could see him better. On closer inspection, his uniform was elderly, patched and darned in places, with the lace repaired. Physically, he certainly seemed the conventional hero: his head was large, his forehead like a sloping field put to the plough, with a scrubland of reddish hair beyond it. Whiskers emphasised his solid jaw, and his eyes were pale against a shiny complexion polished hard by the climate of India and other foreign battlefields. He had a nose that had been straight and determined, but was no less imposing for having been broken once or twice. His lips were thin and red, frequently parting in talk to show very white teeth with the occasional gap. He handled his cutlery as though a fine table in Fife were no different from a camp fire two miles from Bombay, and only practice for handling an infantry sword. Sitting opposite him, Murray, used to being amongst the tallest and broadest in the company, found himself feeling small and delicate.
‘No, it was a ridiculous thing, really,’ he was saying now, encouraged by the boys to talk of a battle that had monopolised their thoughts for the last week. ‘Of course, one can never know the moment that is going to make one’s name, but to be honest the final assault was just that, the last little bit of a long campaign in which many great men were lost. My own sergeant, Lord love him, was run through in a thicket when we were ambushed by Tippoo’s scoundrels, and that was a kindly death compared with the way prisoners were treated when they fell into his hands. Look at Davie Baird himself – knighted, did you notice, just recently? He was taken captive by Tippoo twenty-odd years ago, and chained to another prisoner.’
‘I hear his mother had a great deal of sympathy for that other prisoner,’ said Lord Scoggie, winking at Murray.
‘Aye, that’s a famous one. “Lord help the poor chiel that’s chained to our Davie,” she said. Anyway, they couldn’t make up their minds whether to give the command to Sir David, or to Colonel Wellesley, but in the end they let Davie lead the final assault to take his revenge on the Tiger of Mysore.’
‘Was it a duel to the death?’ asked Robert, his eyes wide. It had not been reported as such in the papers, but Murray knew Robert’s love of romance.
‘Ach, no, son. We found Tippoo dead, after all. He had no courage when it came to the bit, the heathen. The palace was full of animals he had sacrificed to his foreign gods to protect him.’
‘But why did you have to attack him in the first place?’ asked Henry, slightly truculently.
Major Keyes laughed indulgently.
‘It is not enough for you that he was hostile to our interests?’
‘Henry is a thoughtful boy,’ said Murray. ‘He likes to know the ins and outs of the situation.’ Lord Scoggie regarded Henry with interest.
‘A strategist, eh?’ Major Keyes thought for a moment. ‘Well, like some of the other states around at the time, he kept harassing Company troops, which isn’t conducive to trade, of course. He hated the British. There was a great clockwork toy in his palace, I saw it myself. A tiger, nearly lifesize, eating a British soldier. When you turned the handle, the tiger growled and mashed its jaws, and the soldier squirmed and groaned most horribly.’
Robert’s eyes lit up.
‘I heard the French were thinking of an alliance with him as a foothold back in India,’ Murray suggested meekly.
‘Oh, yes, the Tiger of Mysore was up to anything like that,’ Major Keyes agreed, laughing again. ‘He was a nasty piece of work, no doubt about it, young Henry. India is better without him.’
‘How many natives did you kill, Major Keyes?’ Robert asked. Mrs. Costane had made her threatened beetroot pancakes, and he speared one of the bloody-coloured discs as he spoke. Deborah just managed not to tell him off, though her hands twitched.
‘Oh, dozens, I suppose. In the heat of battle you lose count very easily, you know. I remember one young fellow – but perhaps not in front of the ladies, eh? So, are you keen to join a regiment when you grow up, Robert?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Robert breathed, then glanced at his father. Lord Scoggie’s face was impassive.
‘That’s a long way ahead yet, I think, Keyes,’ he said lightly. ‘They have their studies to think of, first.’
‘Aye, studies are useful enough for an officer, I suppose,’ Keyes agreed, ‘though fitness and good fighting skills are better. Are they being taught fencing and boxing? I suppose they must be.’
‘Mr. Murray teaches them a little fencing,’ Lord Scoggie said. ‘I have not yet been convinced that pugilism is a fit sport for a gentleman.’
‘Not a fit sport for a gentleman? I am amazed!’ cried Keyes, banging his knife down on the table. ‘It’s all the rage in London. And anyway, gentleman or not, if you drop your sword in battle and you can’t get at your knife, a good crack on the jaw is enough to stop many a murderous fiend in his tracks.’
At the very thought of it, Robert glowed with excitement.
‘Father, the Pugilistic Chanticleer is coming to give an exhibition in Elie. Please can we go? It would be very good to know how to stop a murderous fiend in his tracks, because you never know when you might meet one, even in Fife.’
‘We are fortunately short of murderous fiends, even in Fife,’ Lord Scoggie remarked, with a thoughtful hand on his long chin. ‘I take it the Pugilistic Chanticleer is some kind of professional pugilist? I seem to have seen his name mentioned in the Courant from time to time. Usually as the vanquished, I seem to recall.’
‘I think you could say he has been unlucky in his friends’ choice of opponents,’ began Keyes, in the manner of a connoisseur. Lord Scoggie clearly did not want to pursue the subject in that much detail for now.
‘I shall consider the matter,’ he told the boys. ‘I make no promises at this stage. And perhaps, too, we should consider an appropriate outing for the ladies, while you are here. They so rarely have a suitable escort.’ Lord Scoggie looked down at his plate as he said this, not quite sure if he wanted to say it at all. The Major looked startled.
‘Oh, of course. I shall be glad to escort you anywhere you please, ladies – I have brought my own horse if you wish to ride – or driving would be equally, er, delightful ... whatever you desire, of course.’
‘What a kind offer, Major,’ said Deborah, while Beatrix looked firmly up at the wall above the Major’s head. ‘We must consider carefully before we impose on you. My mother may have some interesting ideas on the matter.’
‘Of course.’ Keyes bowed his head again, but Deborah had a
lready looked away, so he turned back to Lord Scoggie. ‘Did I mention Davie Baird was given a knighthood this year? Of course in the barracks they’re all wondering who will be next.’
He grinned generally round the table, his white teeth glinting. Up on his feet again at the fireplace, the dog Tippoo heard the tone of his master’s voice, and barked.
After dinner, Murray left the family to talk in the parlour, and retreated to the kitchen. The servants were seated around the fir table at the far end of the great vaulted room: it was so large it had to serve as their dining room as well as the cooking kitchen and scullery. There, there was a smaller fireplace, less ferociously stacked, and more regularly lit than that above it in the Great Hall. The servants’ table still had benches on either side, and Mrs. Costane waved Murray down to join them, even though he had already eaten. He accepted a tankard of ale, and sat down.
‘So what do you think of the great Major Keyes?’ he asked at once. ‘Did he eat my beetroot pancakes? And the curry – did he like that? That’s my own receipt for curry powder, you ken. I didn’t buy that.’
‘It was delicious. And yes, Major Keyes ate it all. The boys liked the pancakes, too, I think.’
Mrs. Costane looked satisfied. She had not asked about Lord Scoggie’s appetite, but she would have known that he had concentrated on the steamed fish (from the village harbour), the beef (from their own cows), the carrot pudding (grown in their own garden), and the baked apples (from their own orchard). The artichoke tart, the curried chicken, and the raisins in the dumpling had all been rigorously ignored by him, though he urged them contentedly enough on his guest. The dishes had come down empty: the carrot pudding being consumed by the servants was an extra one, and the curried chicken was a beast that had seen more of the world than the plump youngsters that had gone upstairs.
Knowledge of Sins Past (Murray of Letho Book 2) Page 8