“And deep within him, missing its accustomed tread, his heart paused, and gave one single stroke, as if on an anvil.”
“Not to every young girl is it given to enter the harem of the Sultan of Turkey and return to her homeland a virgin.”
“Verily, God hath eighteen thousand worlds; and verily, your world is one of them, and this its bright axle-tree.”
“Of all the homes I have known, yours has been a shining model of wisdom and kindness and honesty. For what you and your mother have done in the past, for me and for the child, I owe you a profound debt of honour. You have that claim on me. So has your mother. But if you press it too far; if you will accept no appeal and continue to press it, over and over; if you move into my life, both of you, and take your stance there and feel obliged to command and instruct me in how I should or should not behave, you will destroy our relationship. I shall walk away from you both; I shall deny you both; I shall repudiate all you have done for me. It will all be as if it had never happened … I don’t know what you fear for me, but that you should fear. For I cannot afford it.”
“Yes, gentlemen: said Philippa impatiently, and seizing a stout wooden heading axe, let it fall on the next person who passed.
It was Lymond. He dropped to his knees, his hands covering the nape of his neck, his skin flushed with laughter. Philippa, lowering the axe, said, ‘I have never in the whole of my life seen you laugh before.’
He looked up at the red sock, still gasping. ‘Now that,’ he said, ‘is ridiculous. Although, now you mention it, I didn’t laugh last time it happened. Hit d’Harcourt on the head and see if he laughs.”
“Intelligence is the only indispensable commodity in life or in warfare. If you think otherwise, go live in a hut with a poet. The rest of us will do our best to defend you.”
“You have not yet discovered what happens to Russians at sea.’
‘The same thing, I suppose, that happens to Englishmen,’ Chancellor said. ‘Scots, I take it, are immune.’
‘To sarcasm, yes,’ Lymond said.”
“Kiaya Khátún is of the happy family circle.’
‘You didn’t marry her!’ said Richard sharply.
‘No! No,’ said Lymond soothingly. ‘All but the ceremony. We hope to have the four children legitimized.’
For a moment, with sinking heart, Richard believed him. Then he saw the look on Lymond’s face, and found he could bear it even less. He got to his feet, stiff and unslept, with all the weariness of the night suddenly upon him. ‘At least,’ he said, ‘you are back.”
“There have been so many misunderstandings in the past. What you did, often, was done for good reason. I know I am simple. I know you are devious. But, oh God, if there is any good reason for what you are doing now; any excuse; any unknown factor or subtle circumstance you are afraid I can’t grasp, for the mercy of God, this time, tell me.”
“My God, he must be a good man with his fists.’
‘Lymond?’ said Danny sweetly.
‘Lord Culter. I assume,’ Ludovic said. ‘At least, he was the last person up the stairs before Yeroffia. What did they quarrel about?’
‘Can you remember,’ Daniel Hislop said, ‘how many times you have wanted to do that in the last two or three years, and the occasion each time?’
‘Once a day,’ d’Harcourt said. ‘Sometimes twice. And for as many different reasons.”
“He can make you want to knock him down, if he feels like it, by simply saying “good morning”. He possibly said simply “good morning” to Lord Culter. The difference was that, being his brother, Culter hit him.”
“Don’t be so sensitive,’ he said, faintly chiding. ‘It makes everyday commerce most trying.”
“Kate said, her eyes very large, ‘I find your rudeness abominable and your politeness obnoxious but my goodness, Francis Crawford, what terrifies me more than a jungle of tigers is the moment when you look worried.”
“If you will excuse us?’
‘Go to Sir Henry’s room,’ Lady Mary called after her. ‘And if you use weapons, be sure to call witnesses.”
“Are you by any chance …’ said Lymond.
‘… baiting you?’ Philippa said. ‘Only when you are inclined to be magisterial.’
‘Oh, good God,’ Lymond said. ‘Kate must be out of her mind.’
‘And thank heaven you aren’t my father?’ said Philippa.
‘Roughly,’ said Lymond, and began to laugh, and then stopped.”
“And a capable feminine voice, directed past Austin Grey’s ear to his opponent, said baldly, ‘Hit him.’
Lymond, already balanced on the upswing to hurl himself forward, dropped his arm and said, with dawning reproof, ‘I was going to.’
‘I know,’ said Philippa. ‘And it’ll take half an hour and end with an audience. Hit him.’
Under her hands, Austin Grey suddenly struggled.
‘Hit him!’ said Philippa sharply. ‘It’s the only way he can stop now, with honour.’
Which was not only perceptive, but practical. So Lymond hit him.”
“I don’t change from minute to minute. I don’t change at all.”
“You’ve changed the metre,’ said Philippa.
‘I reserve the right,’ said Lymond, ‘to change the metre. Don’t interrupt.”
“Age can mellow, they say.’
‘They say wrong,’ said Diccon Chancellor. ‘I have known Mistress Philippa these two months, and I have aged while she has grown daily less mellow. Why else am I fleeing the country?”
“Unwanted, unasked, unwelcome as ever, here I am.’
‘Again,’ said Lymond.”
“Meanwhile, until the snow comes, we had better keep Master Chancellor and his party entertained.’
‘Tartar women?’ said Fergie helpfully. ‘Danny Hislop …’
‘Healthy physical exercise,’ said Lymond tartly.”
“You called me Alec just now,’ Guthrie said. ‘If I have dispensation to do the same, let me say it. Francis Crawford, I wish you away from this country; and if I had the hearing of a friend, and not that of the Voevoda Bolshoia, I would tell you never to come back.’
Abandoned by artifice, Lymond’s face exposed, for an instant, his astonishment. ‘Of course you may speak,’ he said. ‘At this moment … but why? I cannot see why?’
‘I know you cannot see why,’ said Alec Guthrie. ‘You saw it when you fought Graham Malett. You saw it in France and in Malta. You saw it clearest of all at home among your own people.’
Lymond said sharply, ‘That will do.”
“I have said the intellect is all that can matter. I haven’t said it is easy—or painless … to rid oneself of all that is left.”
“Guthrie said, ‘You are destroying yourself. You are destroying all that makes common cause with your fellows.’
‘Some of it,’ said Lymond calmly. ‘It is my parting gift to you all. You are free, and so am I. There are no bonds between us, except those of the intellect.’
‘And the intellect,’ said Alec Guthrie, ‘will bring you back to us?’
‘Self-interest,’ Lymond said, ‘will bring me back to you. And intellect, I trust, will maintain me.”
“I am too far away now from it all,’ Lymond said. ‘And if we are going to be metaphysical, I have no sea card, or compass, or star.”
“Speak for yourself,’ said Danny Hislop. ‘I’m held together by intellectual curiosity. So are we all. We were wonderfully specious at Novgorod—Best will remember—about our reasons for staying in Russia. No one gave the correct one. You can hate a man and stay in his company because of his sheer, God-given, irresistible powers to stimulate. We all liked fighting, and we liked talking about fighting. With Lymond you don’t talk about fighting; you discuss the art of warfare, and then its philosophy, and then ten dozen other subjects all through the night, or for as long as he has patience to stay with you. I thought, God help me, that you were all trailing through Europe because you were enamoured of him. It wasn’t that in the least.’
‘We loved his mind,’ said Adam Blacklock, with sudden terrible bitterness.”
“If it had been reeled off with defiance, Richard could perhaps have tolerated it. Instead, delivered with restraint and with clarity, it was the voice of the Voevoda Bolshoia, unquestioned master of armies, giving his considered decisions. And although these were what he had promised to hear and accept, the cavalier judgements, in cold blood, on all the principles and people he held dearest stopped his voice, in a sort of nerve-storm of grief and resentment. And when he could speak: ‘You are a bastard,’ he said.”
“There is a Russian proverb,’ Nepeja said. ‘Beat your shuba, and it will be warmer; beat your wife and she shall be sweeter.’
There was a brief silence, while his hearers considered the analogy. ‘Beat your brother and he shall be deader?’ at length Danny said.”
“Which reminds me -'
'The new ladies have arrived,' said Adam grimly. 'Guaranteed of clean stock, and inured to Russian practices. Osep has announced himself suited.'
'For the time being,' said Danny, open-eyed. 'That's ten since Pitsligo. Do you think it is a subversive attempt at colonization, or the long Russian nights that ought to be setting in about now in Vologda?'
'We shall have to wait till the spring,' Adam said, 'to find out.”
“They are afraid of him?’ D’Harcourt raised his comedian’s eyebrows.
Danny Hislop’s bright teeth flashed in his hairless, unremarkable face. ‘If they were afraid, they’d tear him to pieces like schoolgirls. My guess is that he’s gorgeous. A terrible tease and nasty at moments, but oh Maeve, he has such a way with him.… Is he gorgeous, dear Adam?’
Adam Blacklock, thus addressed, said quietly, ‘Undoubtedly gorgeous.”
“That boulder did what it was there to do. Boulders fall. That’s their nature. It did the only natural thing it could do. It was set up, but it was waiting for you. Without you coming along and pulling it, it would still be stuck where it had been for who knows how long. You did this, Aron. You created it. You chose to come here today; you chose to do this descent into the slot canyon by yourself. You chose not to tell anyone where you were going. You chose to turn away from the women who were there to keep you from getting in this trouble. You created this accident. You wanted it to be like this. You have been heading for this situation for a long time. Look how far you came to find this spot. It’s not that you’re getting what you deserve - you’re getting what you wanted.”
“Perhaps, I thought, the miracle of being an instrument of kindness is the most powerful of all.”
“Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.”
“Street. I thought maybe he picked up money”
“If Myrnin pokes his crazy head up before then, call me and try to keep him, you know, stable.'
'Is he UNstable?'
'I don't know, how can I tell? You're the crazy whisperer!'
She had a point. Claire couldn't help but smile about that.”
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