The Prisoner's Dilemma (27 page)

There was a murmur of approval as John Harrison said this, followed by an expectant hush. It was clear that the king was about to speak and the room fell silent. He appeared to be thinking through what he'd just heard and then turned slightly to address the Committee's table.

‘Gentlemen of the Board. As you know, this great nation of ours is famous throughout the world for its many geniuses. Nonetheless, it must be rare to have two together in one room as
we do here today. We should celebrate it. But I do not envy you in your decision making. Both of the methods perfected by these gentlemen are wonderful breakthroughs in our understanding of navigation, are they not? And both set our country years ahead of other nations. Since that is so, would it not seem wrong to reward the endeavours and brilliance of one of these great men and condemn the other to public failure?'

There was a murmur of approval in the room. The king held up a hand in a faintly apologetic manner.

‘Of course, I would not wish to interfere, gentlemen, but if I could be permitted an opinion on how this may be resolved, might not you members of the Board consider that the Prize could be …shared?'

Dunbeath could take no more. He had been struggling to contain his rage during Harrison's performance but, king or no king, this suggestion made him lose all control.

‘Shared!' he shouted as all eyes in the room turned on him. ‘Shared? The perfection of the heavens shared with this coxcomb craft …this, this box of tricks. A mere mass of metal?'

‘Lord Dunbeath, I beg you,' the king murmured serenely, ‘do not distress yourself in this way. I have told you already of my admiration for your achievements. But just as there is greatness in both solutions, so there are deficiencies. You, yourself, will acknowledge that no planetary readings are possible when there is heavy cloud. That could last for many days, particularly in some intemperate regions.'

All pretence at an amateur's ignorance had been dropped. The king continued smoothly on.

‘Nor is it possible to take daylight readings for six days in every month when the moon is so close to the sun that it disappears. I also understand you to have said that it can take over two hours to compute one's position with the lunar distance method – even with your great advances. In two hours a ship could be on the rocks.

‘Set against this, the marine clock, Mr Harrison's so called chronometer, is quicker to use and, as he says, can be largely independent of the weather. But it is fragile and vulnerable and must be subject to doubt. So, surely the two systems should be taken on voyages together? To support one another? I merely suggest to the experts here in this room that there are strengths and weaknesses in both methods. And so I posed my question, Lord Dunbeath, simply for the Board's consideration – and I ask it again – might we not try to avoid confrontation and schism on this point? Would it not be possible to co-operate?'

But of all the words the king could utter, such an echo of the co-operation games that had so maddened Dunbeath in Scotland now made him throw self-restraint to the winds.

The Urquhain Rage descended.

‘Co-operate? Co-operate!' he shouted, advancing on the king. And then, with a roar, he lifted his arm.

In an instant, Zweig had him by the wrist – but not before the prince's hussars had moved with almost incredible speed to draw their sabres. The small crowd around the men gave a collective gasp and quickly parted. Everyone froze. But, the king seemed to be the only man in the room to remain completely unperturbed and he now lifted his hand to stop any violence.

‘Please, gentlemen,' he said placidly, ‘there is no need for arms. Calm yourself, Lord Dunbeath. I shall withdraw and leave the Board to its deliberations.'

He turned to the hussars.

‘Sheath your swords, gentlemen, I beg you.'

The king moved to go. Then, almost as if a thought had just occurred to him, he turned back and spoke in a low murmur into Dunbeath's ear.

‘My lord, I hear unhappy reports from Scotland,' he whispered. ‘Of an uprising against me. I wonder that you are here at all. Should you not be raising a militia to fight this invader when he lands? Hmm? This …Bonnie Prince Charlie?'

He made as if to finally leave but then seemed to have a further thought. Once more, he turned back and again he muttered softly to Dunbeath.

‘Or, perhaps you agree with his plan?'

With this the king and his retinue moved towards the door and everyone in the long room bowed, except Dunbeath.

* * * 

Outside the porticoed entrance to the Admiralty the king's carriage stood waiting, a footman poised to open the door and drop the step.

The king emerged into the courtyard and calmly made his way to the coach. The door was smartly swung wide for him and he had his hand on the carriage's side when he suddenly hesitated and turned to the old prince, still wheezing along beside him.

‘Did you see that man, prince?' he murmured serenely in German. ‘He raised his arm to me. He made to strike the King of England. Remarkable, wouldn't you say? I wonder that nothing can be done to stop such a madman from threatening the crown again. Can you imagine what would have happened to his like in the old country, eh?'

With that he climbed into the carriage and the prince creaked his whale body downwards to a semblance of a bow.

The coach pulled away and the prince walked back to where Dumm and Kopf were lounging by the front door, reddened with the pleasure of action like a pair of fighting cocks. The prince was quite sure of what the king had said: he knew a hinted order when he heard one, and he now spoke loudly to his little army in the obscure slang they always used, its strange army vocabulary mixed in with their extraordinary local Hanoverian dialect. As ever, they were confident in their secret language.

‘You both saw the intended assault on His Majesty,' the prince
barked, crazed with self-importance. ‘We cannot let this pass. This Dunbeath and his like must be taught a lesson they will never forget.'

Zweig had followed the royal party down the stairs with the intention of seeing what the aftermath of Dunbeath's madness was likely to bring. He had buried himself as best he could in the knot of people by the door but the prince had made no effort to drop his voice, so confident was he that nobody would be able to understand what he was saying.

Zweig broke away and hurried back to the Board's meeting room. He saw Lord Dunbeath talking to the Astronomer Royal.

‘My lord,' he said urgently, ‘you must come with me immediately. There is not a moment to lose.'

Dunbeath began to protest but Zweig took him firmly by the arm and repeated the one word warning –‘immediately!' Dunbeath nodded a farewell to Bradley and together the two men hurried through the far door and ran down a back staircase. On the ground floor they came to a long corridor and Zweig moved quickly down it, looking into the rooms to either side. Eventually he found one he evidently liked. They ducked into a small, unlocked office whose windows gave out onto the courtyard and Zweig held open the door and virtually pulled Dunbeath inside.

‘Wait here, my lord,' he said urgently, ‘your life is in great danger. Do not stir until I come for you.'

He walked quickly over to the sash window and opened it. With a quick movement he removed his hat and pulled a long ostrich feather from the brim and placed it on the window sill. Then he closed the window again.

Zweig left the room and locked the door from the outside. He put the key in his pocket and walked coolly back to the front entrance and left through it, wandering casually away from the waiting guards. He found Makepeace with the carriage amongst a group of other drivers and took him to one side and told him
briefly about the dangers to his master.

‘Drive your team along the wall there and stop at the window that I have marked with an ostrich feather. Wait for us there. I shall go back for his lordship and we shall join you presently. And, Makepeace, have that cudgel of yours to hand. I might have use of it.'

Zweig then strolled slowly back through the gaggle at the front door and found the corridor again. He carefully checked that he hadn't been seen or followed and then quickly unlocked the door, locking it again once he was inside. As he did so the carriage drew up outside and Zweig moved like lightening to open the window.

‘Out of here, my lord. Makepeace has the carriage waiting!'

Dunbeath needed no second prompting. He scrambled through the window and jumped to the ground. He opened the carriage door and was about to climb into it when, with the worst of timing, Dumm and Kopf were returning from their fruitless search for the earl. They now glanced down to see his hurrying figure disappearing into the coach.

With a cry they hurtled up the side of the courtyard just as Zweig was jumping down from the window ledge. The two hussars were almost on him when Zweig yelled urgently to the coachman.

‘Go, Makepeace! Quickly man, drive on. And throw down the stick!'

In one swift move Makepeace had the team moving and had leant under the seat for the cudgel. Zweig caught it and immediately swung at the leading hussar. The prince's soldiers were on him by now, their sabres flashing, any suggestion of foppishness long gone. But Zweig had seen a hundred fights in untold ports and many of them had involved him. He swung the heavy weapon above his head with a roar and his immense strength and evident experience of hand to hand fighting made the hussars shrink momentarily back. That was enough for Zweig. He lunged
forward and with half a dozen lightening blows he had their swords knocked from their hands and the arm of one broken and the collarbone of the other.

Zweig was not interested in victory but only in escape and after a few more carefully aimed swings he raced after the departing coach and leapt onto the step while he grabbed a handhold with his free arm. He shouted to Makepeace.

‘Drive on! Drive on!'

The carriage swept through the low wall that formed a boundary to the Admiralty courtyard and out into Whitehall. Behind them the prince watched the coach's lurching body and wildly turning wheels and then looked towards where his broken bodyguards were struggling to their feet. In a voice thick with anger, he shouted into the face of one of the king's aides, still standing by the door.

‘Get General Mallender! Tell him, find where Lord Dunbeath house. We make visit. I finish him!'

* * * 

Once the carriage had rounded the corner and started up The Mall, Makepeace reined in the horses and Zweig climbed inside. The big man's blood was up and he laughed loudly when he saw Dunbeath's downcast look.

‘By heaven, my lord, cheer yourself! It was great good fortune that I should have known the army dialect those toy soldiers were using, wasn't it? I used to provision their garrison. I learnt their nonsense so that I could do business with them. We used to call it “Armee Rede”. I didn't like it at all when I heard them say they were planning on arresting you for attempting to strike the king.'

‘Attempting? I would have done so if it hadn't been for you, captain,' said Dunbeath mournfully, ‘you saved me from myself. I've no doubt those fancy butchers of his fat friend would have
happily run me through. Well, we are where we are. But, what do we do now?'

‘Well, they will certainly be sending men to your house even as we speak,' replied Zweig. ‘I would suggest that we do not return there but go directly to the boat and get back to Scotland as fast as we can. They won't know how we travelled here and the river will be the last place they'll think of looking.'

‘Yes, you must be right. There's no point in staying here. But, what of you, Zweig?' Dunbeath said, with unexpected concern, ‘I have put you in harm's way. Why do you not make your way back to Königsberg from here? Nobody knows your name. They won't be chasing you in London, they'll be looking for me. I've no doubt you can pick up a vessel if you ask around the port and I have your money with me already.'

Zweig laughed. Leaving Sophie behind was the last thing he wanted – he knew full well he had to return to Scotland. Even as he smiled at Dunbeath he saw yet another opportunity to bind himself ever closer to the man. And to win an even deeper trust.

‘And allow you to put yourself on the rocks again at Warleigh Point? No, my lord, I believe our bargain included a return journey.'

Dunbeath looked at him carefully.

‘Captain,' he said quietly, ‘I dare say I would be able to find a man in Wapping, or even two, to help me sail back. Perhaps Makepeace has some knowledge of boats. You have no need to come with me. You have found yourself caught up in my affairs and my madness, and I would think no less of you if you left me now.'

‘Enough of this,' laughed Zweig. He snatched off his wig and put his head out of the window. ‘Makepeace, not St James's,' he shouted. ‘Take us instead to Wapping with all speed. I believe we may yet catch the tide if we hurry.'

Zweig came back inside the carriage and it wasn't long before his enormous good humour had spread to Dunbeath. Yet again
they had escaped death, and yet again they celebrated it with the hilarity that can only come from such close shaves. By the time they arrived at Wapping, Makepeace had wondered more than once quite what could be causing the pair of them to be shrieking with laughter so much.

The coachman quickly found where the jacht was moored and his master and Zweig clambered over the barges to get on board. They pulled off their court dress and Dunbeath went back to where Makepeace stood with the horses.

‘Do you know how to sail a boat by any chance?'

‘Why yes, my lord. I was brought up on the river. My father delivered grain from Essex. I am the first of my family to have dry feet.'

‘Excellent. Would you consider coming back to Scotland with us? I shall see you well rewarded for it if you would agree.'

‘With pleasure, my lord. It will make a welcome change of air for me.'