“But I have dreamd a dreary dream,
Beyond the Isle of Sky;
I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I.”
He belted on his guid braid sword,
And to the field he ran,
But he forgot the helmet good,
That should have kept his brain.
The Battle of Otterburn
CHAPTER 54 TYNDALE
Sir Eustace Brackenstall's feet were getting numb, even through thick plastic wading boots. The cold waters of North Tyne raced down from Otterburn and Redesdale. Swirling past his legs, shifting the gravel underfoot, making him stumble.
So he gave up. He reeled in the fishing fly, caught the spinner and walked clumsily out of the water onto the gravel bed.
A Gamekeeper took his rod. “Thank you Sir. Will you be casting again after lunch Sir?”
“Um, no. No thank you. I shall be visiting this afternoon. But I may try a cast or two this evening.”
“Very good, Sir.” The gamekeeper clicked on the radio mike attached to his old tweed jacket “Sir Eustace is ready to return to the castle now. Yes, OK. Sir Eustace, I'll do the packing up here, if you walk up to the road, the shooting brake will take you back to the castle Sir.”
“Thank you. That Salmon, could the kitchens freeze it for me?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“I can serve it back in London and tell everyone about my wonderful holiday and your excellent advice on which fly to use.”
“Thank you Sir.”
Sir Eustace Brackenstall, the Cabinet Secretary, the most powerful Civil Servant in Britain, sat on the running board of the electric mini bus. It had been pimped to look like an early twentieth century shooting brake or estate car, complete with wooden sides, clips on the roof for fishing rods, gun racks in the back and hooks on the side to hang the pheasant and grouse. Dead deer were probably laid over the bonnet and curvaceous mud guards. With difficulty he pulled off the boots, God his feet smelt, and put on expensive leather brogues.
“Shall I take you up to the Castle now Sir? asked the driver, also wearing traditional tweeds and plusfours.
“Yes please. Thank you.” Sir Eustace felt that in his position he should always be polite.
Effie Hebron was walking across the lawns at Bellinger Castle carrying a double barrelled shot gun, broken in the crook of her arm. She looked amazing. A woman of her age had no right looking that sexy. She was supposed to have been married to Joe Hebron for forty years, so was she sixty or seventy years old? “Hallo there Sir Eustace. We haven't seen much of you this trip.”
“Um, no. Not this time.” Why couldn't his wife, Lady Mary, look like this, she was only forty.
“You and your wife must have dinner with us tonight.”
“Um, n.....well.....” How could Sir Eustace get out of this one. He knew all about Joe Hebron's involvement in the space project, and he really should not be talking to him, at all. The other parties might say it showed favouritism. Not that anyone would ever accuse someone like Sir Eustace of any form of impropriety. Everyone knew he would be scrupulously fair in all his dealings. “Um, yes, fine. Mary and I will look forwards to it.”
“Good. Apparently there's a hotel in Wark called the Battlesteads. So with a name like that Joe and I thought we just had to go there.”
“Uh.....yes....” Dear God. Those stretch corduroy pants. She must have had surgery.
“By the way, they are just opening up the Old Tower if you want to see it.”
“Well.....”
“I'm going.” smiled Effie.
“Well I suppose I may as well.” Sir Eustace walked beside her onto the terrace in front of the Jacobean wing “Wonderful old building.”
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