Checkmate by Dorothy Dunnett

low stool, staring with curling lip at her husband. ‘I suggested it to Piero Strozzi. They say the Tsar is power-mad. By the end of a year, there will be no controlling him, or the Russian army. There is little chance of it now. That is why Adam and his other captains have been trying so hard to prevent Francis from leading them to disaster. And why his wife has conspired to keep him in West Europe also. Is it not allowed,’ said Marthe dulcetly, ‘for a sister to protect her brother?’
    Philippa set down the candlestick with a thump. ‘Is that true? You’re here only because they won’t give you a divorce otherwise?’
    ‘I’m sorry. Are you insulted?’ said Lymond.
    ‘Why do you want a divorce?’ said Philippa bluntly.
    Stricken silent, three by no means inarticulate people looked at her. Then Lymond, speaking carefully, said, ‘Because, I assume, you would prefer to be free.’
    Philippa’s clear brow wrinkled, and then smoothed again. ‘I suppose I should,’ she said. ‘But on the other hand, the Pope is old and I’m in no particular hurry. Was that the only reason?’
    ‘No,’ said Lymond. The double candlelight underlit his hair and his eyes and his cheekbones, all of them untrustworthy evidence. Philippa, from long experience, watched his hands, long-fingered and resilient, pressed hard on the walnut frieze of the sideboard. He removed them. He said, ‘In this far from seemly conversation, I suppose I had better bring in the name of Güzel.’
    ‘Yes. Well, we all know about Güzel,’ Philippa said. ‘But you told me once you didn’t intend her to have any children. So why after all this timefeel bound to marry her? Wouldn’t she have you without it?’
    ‘Yes. Do tell us,’ said Marthe with interest. ‘Wouldn’t she have you without it?’
    There was a brief silence. Francis Crawford said to his wife, ‘I am not sure if I follow you. Am I to assume that you are willing to dispense with a divorce if I wish to escape from France and find my way after all to Russia? I am, of course, delighted. Only the change of policy is, may I say, a little tardy?’
    Philippa Somerville stood with her hands clasped and viewed, a little pale, the spectacle of Lymond losing his temper. She said, ‘Don’t be silly, it would be stupid to go back there now, unless you had to. That’s what I wondered. I wondered whether it might suit you instead to stay in Europe and marry someone important. Or whether it would do if you simply went on sleeping with people like Madame la Maréchale.’
    ‘Where the spirite is, there it is always sommer,’ said Francis Crawford semi-automatically. He was gazing at her. ‘Go on. There must be other options. Sum fra the bordell wald nocht byde Quhill that thai gatt the Spanyie Pockis?’
    Philippa said patiently, ‘All I am trying to point out is that you may please yourself. With or without a divorce, I am quite capable of making my own arrangements.’
    ‘What? Who with?’ Jerott had jumped to his feet. ‘Damn you, Francis,’ he said.
    Lymond paid no attention. He relinquished the edge of the table and moved gently forward until he stood over Philippa, his hands clasping one another behind his straight back. He said, ‘I hit you once, on the jaw. Do you remember?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Philippa. She added, ‘You hit me another time, on the arm.’
    ‘Oh? I had forgotten that,’ said Francis Crawford. ‘Why?’
    ‘It happens all the time,’ Philippa said courteously. ‘I was where someone didn’t want me. If they place the sun in my right hand and the moon in my left and ask me to give up my mission, I will not give it up until the truth prevails or I myself perish in the attempt. Are you going to strike me?’
    ‘I am considering it,’ said Lymond. ‘Jerott is now convinced I am corrupting you. Fortunately I know, if Jerott does not, when you are speaking from conviction and when you are being deliberately and spitefully obstreperous. You have never made any