The Prisoner's Dilemma (12 page)

James was too exhausted from the pounding he'd had in the last few minutes to argue. The loss of the telescope was a terrible blow to him and he began to cry again. Zweig pulled him gently upwards by the arm and set him on his feet and the two slowly turned and began the short walk back towards the cottage.

* * * 

‘I wonder what all that was about,' murmured Sharrocks as he snapped his telescope closed. ‘The boy was all at sea about something. But it may not be anything that would interest us. Perhaps I'm wrong about this place after all.'

He turned to the trooper he had with him as they walked back to their horses.

‘I think we'll give the village a rest for a bit and take a closer look at the castle tomorrow.'

They mounted and set off back to Craigleven.

The following day Dunbeath was too ill to leave his room. Annie took him soup in the afternoon and he sent his apologies back with her.

‘His lordship says he will join you later,' she said to David Hume when she saw him on the stairs. She moved as if to pass him but then turned back with a worried sigh. ‘Oh, sir, you know him well. Have you ever seen him like this before? We had the same some two years ago and it frightened me so much. Shouting for days. Such a fever I thought he was for his grave. But he came through it then – perhaps this time will not be so bad.'

David Hume reassured her as best he could; nonetheless he stood, gazing after her with concern as she carried the uneaten soup back to the kitchen.

That evening Hume was reading alone by the fire when Annie came in with whisky for him. He saw immediately that her mood had lifted from the anxiety she'd been showing earlier and was delighted when she told him that Dunbeath was in the observatory.

‘His lordship is much recovered, sir, and sends his compliments – he is asking if you would care to take your dram there while he works.'

It was plain to David Hume, however, when he reached the top of the tower and came into the glassed room, that Lord Dunbeath was far from recovered. The earl's face was a disturbed mixture of chalk white and red flushes and it was evident that he was unsteady on his feet. As Hume had entered he'd seen him wince as he bent down to take a reading. Sophie was sitting quietly besides him with an open notebook and she glanced quickly up at Hume as he came across the observatory floor towards them.

‘Mr Hume. A thousand regrets,' Dunbeath said, looking up
from the eyepiece, ‘I know I have been poor company for you but I am very much the better now. However, I fear you must oblige me if we delay our discussion on my game yet a little longer. The Transit is tomorrow and you will find me more attentive when that is over, I promise you. You were clearly intrigued by my letter to you and I greatly look forward to our discourse.'

‘Well, I too look forward to it, Dunbeath. I admit I have rarely been so interested. If I followed your letter correctly I understand you to be proposing a method of investigating – indeed you said mathematically – the very mechanics of human behaviour.'

Dunbeath stood away from his observations although his shaking hand continued to clasp on to the big telescope for support.

‘Yes,' he replied, slurring slightly as he spoke, ‘that is so. You have discerned exactly the conclushion I have come to.'

David Hume inwardly grimaced at hearing Dunbeath's verbal near miss.

‘I fear you are still sickening, my friend,' he said gently, his soft features creased into a concerned smile.

‘Not at all,' replied Dunbeath distantly, but his eyelids began to close and he rocked slightly on his heels. ‘I do well, but I have need of a little air.'

He gave up his grasp on the telescope and went to a window, straightening up as he did so in his resolve to feel better. He stood for a few seconds looking down at the crashing waves and then glanced over at the dunes behind the beach as he turned to come back. He seemed to tense as if he'd seen something and then immediately peered out more closely – his eye attracted by a sudden flash as a piece of glass reflected back from high up on the dunes.

‘One moment, if you please,' he mumbled to Hume as he picked up a small telescope. He went back to the open window and focused the instrument. He twisted the focus again and his whole body stiffened. As he looked out he had seen Zweig,
sideways on, surveying one of the castle's windows through a telescope.
His
telescope. Now he saw him slowly scan the battlements as if working something out. The next moment he watched as he swung the instrument down to the windows – and then up to the observatory. He was now pointing directly back at Dunbeath. The two men stared at each other for a second, transfixed, each focused on the glass of the other.

‘Good God!' Dunbeath cried with a wild look, pointing frantically towards the dunes as he turned back to Hume. ‘My Domenico Salva!'

‘What's that you say?' replied Hume, looking across the room towards him in alarm. But Dunbeath simply stood as if he'd been struck, an arm still outstretched towards the dunes and his lips moving soundlessly. He madly pointed again, as if insisting that Hume should also look, but the light in his eyes was dying. Now they rolled back in his head and a great shudder went through his body. It was the end and he fell backwards, striking his head with a sickening impact on a window ledge as he collapsed.

Sophie jumped to her feet with an anguished cry and she and Hume ran to where the earl lay. She felt the heat of his forehead with her hand and then quickly rose to look out of the window to see what could have shocked him so much - but Zweig had ducked out of sight, well aware that he'd been seen.

* * * 

Eventually they succeeded in manhandling Dunbeath to his bed. It had not been easy and the Grey Tower's spiral staircase had been the worst of it. But, to Hume's intense surprise, Sophie had completely taken charge of the operation, directing Annie and himself with the calm and confident authority of a battle-hardened general – and with all her instructions given out in a clear and astonishingly perfect English.

More than once Hume caught himself amazed and yet
profoundly grateful. He wondered what had become of the mouse that had been sitting so quietly in the drawing room, hardly able to believe this change in her. Dunbeath had told him she was just a survivor from the shipwreck, a plaything for his housekeeper he'd called her. What did it matter though, Hume thought yet again, and he once more gave silent thanks that she was so capable.

There was a greater surprise to come. He watched as the girl cleared some of the chaos in Dunbeath's bedroom and then sent Annie to light a fire in the grate and warm water to bathe his fever. She now asked Hume to sit by the bed and told him to bring her word if Dunbeath should appear to be failing.

‘Why, Miss Kant, where are you going?'

‘I shall be in the observatory,' she replied briskly. ‘I must complete the night's readings. And then I have to study Lord Dunbeath's books on the Transit of Venus. I do not believe he will be well enough to observe it for himself tomorrow.'

David Hume opened his mouth to reply but before he could gather his scattered wits she had swept from of the room.

* * * 

It was past midnight when Hume made his exhausted way to the top of the tower and came puffing into the observatory. Sophie was transferring her records of the evening's measurements into Dunbeath's notebooks and she looked up with a smile of satisfaction as she saw his anxious face appear around the door.

‘Ah, Mr Hume. How pleased I am to see you. You must be tired. How is his lordship?'

‘I don't know how to answer, I fear, Miss Kant. I have no knowledge of such things, but he seems very ill. Such a fever – I could feel the heat of it from where I sat. And he is much disturbed, mumbling all the while about something or other.'

Hume looked down at the planetary recordings she'd made
and at her confident writing.

‘How do you do here? Did you manage to complete the measurements?'

Sophie shrugged.

‘Oh yes, it wasn't difficult. I've seen Lord Dunbeath take such readings many times. The pattern is clear. But tomorrow may be a different story and I shall need the night to read my way through to the Transit. Luckily many of these books of his are in my own language and I have some hours to study the techniques and procedures I shall need. May I suggest that you go to your bed now, Mr Hume? I shall be with Lord Dunbeath throughout the night while I read but I would be grateful if you could relieve me in the morning.'

* * * 

The great clock in the hall had struck eight the following day, however, before David Hume came sheepishly into Dunbeath's bedroom and saw Sophie sitting by the vast four-poster bed, sponging his head as he twisted and grimaced in his fever. As Hume looked on, the earl threw back the covers and flung out a leg, groaning in his pain, but Sophie gently pushed his shoulders back to the mattress and a few seconds later he lapsed, muttering, into a shallow slumber.

‘I must apologise, Miss Kant. I meant to take over from you far earlier but I'm afraid I slept too deeply. I fear this episode has fatigued me more than I could have imagined. Is he no better? Did you have a bad night of it?'

Sophie continued to gently bathe Dunbeath's face as she replied.

‘Do not concern yourself, Mr Hume. You could have done no more if you had come earlier, I would have stayed anyway. I have some experience of this work. We had an outbreak of the sweating sickness two years ago in Königsberg, what I believe
you call influenza here in Scotland, and I learnt something of its treatment. But I never saw a fever like this one. He has scarcely slept all night, raving and raving away. I confess I have wondered at times if there is more to this than just the illness. He seems to be ravaged by something more profound, almost as if he is having an attack to his senses as well as a physical collapse.'

She looked down at Dunbeath as he gibbered and twitched on his bed.

‘He must sleep more deeply if we are to get this fever down. I decided that Annie should go for the doctor and she set out an hour ago to walk to the town of Wick. She will ask him to bring sleeping drafts and other medicines.'

‘But, Miss Kant,' Hume replied with a start, ‘I did not know this was your need. Why, I have just such a draft with me already if you think it will serve. My friend John Brown prepared a compound for me before I came here. I believe the world may yet hear of his great powers – he is a considerable physician in Edinburgh. He has a new preparation that he calls laudanum and I can assure you it has a powerful effect on all who use it.'

Sophie agreed immediately that they should give some to Dunbeath and Hume hurried to fetch the tincture that Brown had given him some weeks earlier. She heard him coming back, shuffling along in his haste, breathing heavily from the effort. Together they propped Dunbeath upright and forced a deep dose of the liquid between his quivering lips. They did not have long to wait before they saw his body relax and his breathing become easier and more regular.

‘Praise God for that, Mr Hume,' Sophie sighed as she arranged the bedclothes around Dunbeath's body. ‘If your Doctor Brown is correct he may sleep for some time now. Would you sit with him, please, and come to me if you think he deteriorates? It is the day of the Transit and I shall be starting the observations in three hours.'

She picked up some volumes from where they had fallen next
to her chair.

‘I think I may make a passable attempt with the reckoning – these books are fairly clear about how I must proceed.'

* * * 

It was some hours later that Hume rose from his seat and decided as he looked down at Dunbeath that he could leave him for a few minutes. He had a horror of illness of any sort and it had been an ordeal for him to sit watching the earl's flickering features and to feel his burning fever. He had wondered more than once as he'd sat there what Sophie had wanted him to do but he stayed nonetheless, watching Dunbeath as he twisted and jabbered, shouting out in bursts of passionate nonsense.

He climbed the stairs of the Grey Tower and came through to the observatory just as Sophie was measuring the room's temperature. She'd seen him come in through the door but had said nothing as she concentrated on recording her findings. She now glanced up briefly but went back to the telescope's eyepiece.

‘No change?' she said as she focused the instrument.

‘None that I can see, I'm afraid, Miss Kant. But he keeps yelling out the words he used when he first collapsed up here. You probably heard him yourself. He shouts out ‘Domenico Salva' again and again. Sometimes it's even ‘my Domenico Salva!' Who do you think that can be? Is there someone here with that name, do you think?'

Sophie continued to look through the lens. She murmured to Hume as she did so.

‘Domenico Salva was the Michaelangelo of telescopes, Mr Hume. He was working in Florence early in the last century and was as much a genius as any of the great artists of the renaissance ever were. Ferdinando de Medici was his patron, of course, obsessed as he was with all such instruments. I recall that Salva's finest work was carried out with a jeweller called Giacomo
Palametti. Apparently the best of them were exquisite things, much sought after by astronomers of the time. But what do you think Lord Dunbeath meant? Do you imagine that in his fever he thought he saw a telescope out there?'

‘A telescope?' Hume's pained expression showed his incredulity. ‘You don't think the poor man has lost his senses, do you?'

Sophie made no answer and Hume let her continue with her work uninterrupted. He strolled over to the door that led out to the gap between the observatory wall and the battlements. He went outside and looked over the parapet at the long drop to the sea. He recoiled at the sight and stepped back, shuddering slightly as he did so.

* * * 

Major Sharrocks arrived just as the trooper he'd stationed the previous day was gazing intently through the long-range spyglass.

‘You may want to see this, sir. People arriving.'

Sharrocks lay down and lifted the instrument on its tripod, focusing it on the castle's entrance. He saw a pony cart draw up and a plump man jump down holding a small case. The man hurried inside the castle with Annie following closely behind.

‘Hello,' said Sharrocks. ‘Who's that? The old woman's the housekeeper but who's the man? Something's going on here. Dunbeath never sees anyone and now he's got a damned house full.'

* * * 

The doctor came briskly into Dunbeath's bedroom and walked over to the bed.

‘How long has he been in this fever?' he asked, taking his
pulse and then drawing back Dunbeath's lids to stare intently into his eyes.