The Game of Kings (Lymond Chronicles, 1)
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For the first time Dunnett's Lymond Chronicles are available in the United States in quality paperback editions.
The first book in the legendary Lymond Chronicles, Game of Kings takes place in 1547. Scotland has been humiliated by an English invasion and is threatened by machinations elsewhere beyond its borders, but it is still free. Paradoxically, her freedom may depend on a man who stands accused of treason: Francis Crawford of Lymond.
personal hatreds in a child.” This time, after a moment, he called her bluff. “Perhaps Philippa and I should be thrown together a little more. She might become attached to me if she knew me better.” Kate, brightening visibly, ignored the gleam in his eye. “That would make her sorry for you?” “It might. The object of any sort of clinical study deserves compassion, don’t you think?” “Snakes don’t,” said Katherine inconsequently. “I hate snakes.” “And yet you feed them on honey cakes and forbid
like raindrops, he responded. “Am I a schoolmaster, think you?” “Or a monk?”—innocently. Laughter intensified in the voice. “When clerics sing like little birds?—No, surely not …” and he swept tempestuously into a song made immortal by its far from clerical sentiments; and from there to an estampie she did not recognize. His playing was restrained and skilled. Drifting from this to that composer, he discoursed gently about musical theory and philosophy; and she found herself stating her own
year. Nevertheless, Sybilla was able to put her own accurate interpretation on Janet’s groan. “Religion or women?” asked Lady Culter expertly. “Women!” It was a cry of despair. “Can you see Buccleuch turning a whisker about women! Not a bit of it. Moral Philosophy, that’s the trouble,” said Janet with gloomy relish. “They’ve taught poor Will moral philosophy and his father’s fit to boil.” “It is theology then,” said Sybilla uneasily. “I suppose he might manage if he sticks like Lindsay to the
blows in the Channel as on the Solway,” she said. “No fleet will put out in this weather.” Gideon interposed briefly. “The Protector is asking for action quickly against the Douglases, Lady Lennox.” “And that he shall have,” said the woman serenely. “If you will allow me to make a suggestion.” She looked up at four, noncommittal faces and smiled. “There was a time when I was a Douglas, and then I became more Tudor than Douglas. Now I am more Stewart than either. Listen.” And she outlined a
for Samuel Harvey. And behold, we have a hostage. My brilliant devil, my imitation queen; my past, my future, my hope of heaven and my knowledge of hell … Margaret, Countess of Lennox.” Part Three THE PLAY FOR SAMUEL HARVEY CHAPTER I: Bitter Exchange II: The Queen’s Progress Becomes Critical III: Mate for the Master IV: Concerted Attack I Bitter Exchange This knycht he aw his folk for to defend … Off gret corage he is that has no dreid And dowtis nocht his fais multitude Bot starkly