Prisoner`s Dilemma, The - Softcover

O`connor, Sean

Softcover

ISBN 10: 178279431X ISBN 13: 9781782794318

Verlag: John Hunt Publishing, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

The Caithness coast. Winter 1745. Rebellion year. A half-mad earl witnesses a murder. But seeing the appalling decision the killer had taken leads him to invent his 'game of life' - The Prisoner's Dilemma - and he writes to his old friend, David Hume, inviting him to his ancient stronghold to explore its meaning. Hume is only too pleased to go. He has just met Adam Smith and the two of them have disagreed about man's instinct for survival - and how compassion can exist in a world driven by self-interest. But before Hume's discussions with the earl can begin, two strangers arrive from Prussia who will turn their lives upside down - and attract the attentions of the English army. As the pace of the story quickens to a claustrophobic climax, the greatest questions of the age sluice wildly about the action and people find themselves driven relentlessly towards their destinies in love and betrayal, ambition and failure and, eventually, in life and death. But as the secrets of game theory unfold the characters' motivations, and their deceits and feints are laid bare, a simpler story is exposed- it is the compelling tale of three utterly ruthless men, each of whom is determined to win for himself the love of an extraordinary woman. Who will win? And why?

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Sean Stuart O'Connor spent over 20 years as a Mad Man before becoming a Dragon - and creating, investing in and directing a wide range of companies and organisations. He lives in London and Somerset.

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The Prisoner's Dilemma

By Sean Stuart O'Connor

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2012 Sean Stuart O'Connor
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78279-431-8

CHAPTER 1

For perhaps the twentieth time that morning the prince lungedforward in his chair, his angry face marbled with a livid redcrazing as he glared out from under his long court wig.

'And who ...' he was shrieking now, his blancmange bodyrustling with the cascade of pale blue silk and satin sashes thatbroke over him whenever he moved. Slowly, he lifted a shakingarm and a hooked forefinger quivered over an open page like ahovering kestrel. Then it hurtled down to impale an elaboratedrawing of a heraldic crest.

'... this people?'

General Mallender sighed noiselessly and twisted in his seatto see what the terrible Hanoverian nail had stabbed now. GoodGod, hadn't he given the old bull enough time today already?

It was clear that the prince was not going to risk taking hisfinger from the hated crest and the thick paper buckled slightlyas Mallender gently edged round the enormous bulk of TheOrigins and Armorial Bearings of the Highland Clans until he couldsee enough of the illustration to read the inscription.

'If I might just ...' he began, and then 'ah, the Urquhain. Yes,indeed. The premier clan of Caithness. And very interesting theyare, too. I am not personally familiar with the family although Idid once have the honour to be a guest at their great stronghold,the Castle of Beath, when I was travelling in the area many yearsago. That was when the clan's old chief, the present earl's father,was alive.'

'What is area? Where this place? Caithness?'

'It's right up on the roof of Scotland, your highness. You canscarcely go any further north than the castle.'

'You say name again,' ordered the prince, and he now jabbedat the florid type at the head of the page.

'Their name, your highness? Well, you'll recall that we werediscussing another clan earlier spelt Urquhart and I said wepronounce it as Urket. This one has possibly the same root and Ibelieve they would refer to themselves as Urken.'

The prince gave a grunt of displeasure.

'And what lord? This chief?'

'He is the Earl of Dunbeath, your highness.'

'Urquhain. Dunbeath. Scotland names. So stupid.'

Mallender inclined his head slightly to one side as if inagreement but looked with inward distaste at the podgy facebeside him with its drooping cheeks and bulbous, wine-veinednose.

Here's a pot slandering a kettle, he thought to himself. If therewas a competition for idiotic names the Urquhain card wouldeasily be covered by your own – Prince Friedrich Ernst Augustvon Suderburg-Brunswick-Luneburg. Afancy string of words butwe all know that you were born a bastard. And if it hadn't beenfor your half sister chancing to marry a man who was the closestliving Protestant relation they could find when fat old QueenAnne died you'd still be back in your piss-poor principality. Sosmall, they say, that a man could ride out of it on a good day'shunting.

The general came out of his musing and turned his attentionback to the prince. He looked sideways at him and saw hisbulging eyes as he continued to glower furiously at the Urquhaincrest, obviously deeply embedded in his self-righteousresentment. But in spite of the irritation Mallender had beenfeeling all morning he was surprised to notice in himself asudden twinge of pity as it flashed across his thoughts. He knewthat behind the angry bluster there was something pathetic aboutthe elderly fraud that sat wobbling with fury alongside him. Itwas common knowledge that the prince had left his homeland toaccompany his 'half' brother-in-law when he had been crownedKing of England. But that was in 1714. And yet here he was in1745, over thirty years later, and still lodged between the twonations. The now ancient prince had made no effort to becomeEnglish, he'd never been accepted by its people and he hardlyeven spoke the language; but then again he was certainly nolonger anything to do with the German empire. Instead, he hadbecome marooned by his dogged service to the Hanoverianmonarchy.

His old friend, the king, had died years ago and the princewas now serving his son, the second George. Mallender couldonly imagine that even someone as dull witted and self-absorbedas the prince had to be able to see how determined this monarchwas to reduce the ties with his father's Germanic background.

The general gave a slight cough but the prince paid him noattention and remained locked in his rancorous trance.Mallender shrugged slightly and went back to his silent contemplation,thinking further about the arrogant man that gruntedand wheezed next to him.

He knew that the Hanoverians considered blood to be blood,sullied though it may have been by the illicit passions of thebedroom, and the prince had been found a pension of sorts anda fine set of grace and favour apartments at Hampton CourtPalace. There he had his own little kingdom where he struttedaround with his many mistresses and an absurd private army of– to universal hilarity – just two soldiers. Known to everyoneexcept themselves as Dumm and Kopf this convoy were a coupleof overweight, loutish aristocrats from the eastern border of hisprincipality, dressed at all times in the ridiculous uniforms oftheir native hussars' regiment. The prince liked to keep thembusy and they amused the other tenants at the Palace byspending hours each day practicing their sabre thrusts andblocking moves like a pair of carefree puppies. Then they wouldstroll the grounds with their master, intriguing with each otherin a mixture of their army slang and an impenetrable Celledialect – chosen because it was impossible for even Germanspeakers to understand – plotting to be invited to court. This wasyet more blind arrogance on their part for their aloofnessprevented them seeing the scarcely concealed derision they metwhenever they went.

The prince poked again at the offending heraldry.

'They fight us?'

Mallender shook himself out of his reverie.

'The Urquhain? I couldn't be sure, your highness. Thesituation is still very confused.'

'But they Scots from high lands. Who give them lord?'

'I believe they received the earldom when King James camesouth to take the English throne. Many of the king's Scottishsupporters were rewarded at the time.'

'King James was Stuart! So they fight for this Stuart now! ThisCharles Edward who think he have claim for throne. They sayhim Bonnie Prince Charlie. More stupid name. But they thinkhim right king. They say king over water.'

The arm rose again and the crest was once more decisivelyimpaled.

'I say. They fight.'

The general stiffened in his chair.

'I wouldn't be too quick to make that assumption, yourhighness,' he murmured.

Now Mallender leant over to point to the scroll under the cat'scradle of intertwined supporters, shield and coronet that madeup the crest.

'You'll see the wording of the clan motto here, your highness?Nos Unus. I think you'd agree that this tells its own story. Therewas never a family that lived so faithfully to its guiding principle.You'll have made the translation by now and surmised itsmeaning, I have no doubt – Us Alone. How appropriate that is.The Urquhain have never shown loyalty to anyone, only tothemselves. Who would they fight for? Probably whoever wouldmake them still richer than they already are. They believe only inpower and wealth. They have only ever had one aim and that isto side with the winner.'

'We have same like. In Hanover. Think they ...' and here theprince risked removing his finger from the page to tilt his noseupwards in mock superiority.

More pots and kettles, thought Mallender, although henodded thoughtfully.

'Oh, I quite agree in most cases, your highness. But theUrquhain have made their bloodline into an art form. Theirchildren have suspicion bred into them. The finest tutors arealways engaged for them but the real lessons come from withinthe family. Add wealth, each new generation is told, add power.But never add obligation.'

The prince gave another grunt although there was the meresthint of respect in its tone.

'This son. This earl. Dunbeath. He soldier?'

'Why no, your highness. Anything but. And that is anotherreason to think he may not fight with the rebels. No, he is anastronomer. I hear he thinks of nothing but his stars and moons.I'm told he never sees anyone and lives only for looking at theplanets. They say he's the first Urquhain chief for centuries tocare about anything other than counting his money.'

'Why you no talk him?'

'We may indeed try to treaty with him at some point, yourhighness, but our first priority must be to strengthen our forcesin Scotland. And, of course, these Scottish lairds are notoriouslydifficult to deal with. They all have hair trigger tempers but evenon such a measure I'm informed that this latest Dunbeath standsapart. He is reputed to have only the two days: gloom and rage,gloom and rage. And one can follow the other in the blink of aneye. No, I'd suggest that we leave this clan for the time being andturn the page. Ah, the Macdonalds of Ranochlainie. I think wecan be rather more sure of where they stand.'

The prince gave another cry of rage and, once again, aquaking hand was slowly raised to strike.

CHAPTER 2

It was mid-February and the vicious cut in the easterly windshowed no sign of easing after four months of the harshest winterin living memory. Standing immovable against it, the Castle ofBeath rose from the landscape, massive and unlit, its vast blackbulk silhouetted against the watery moonlight of the frozenCaithness night.

The castle was an ancient place, built in the fourteenth centuryon a spit of land set in the Ulbster coast, by Dromnell Urquhain,a renowned madman and the first of the clan lairds. A violent,volatile man, embittered from his constant fights and ambitiousbeyond reason, he had used the massive boulders he'd foundthere as the foundation stones for a fortress so great that its verypresence was designed to chill any thought of opposition. He hadtaken much care in choosing its position. The wild sea was wherehe wanted it, at his back, and the treeless tract at the castle's frontwas so narrow that it formed a highly defensible land bridge.

Although it was by now over four hundred years old, thehardness of the castle's stone remained undulled by the ferociousstorms that constantly beat against it and the outwardappearance of the colossal stronghold was almost completelyunchanged from the day it had been finished. But one alterationto the structure was evident. On the battlemented top of whatwas called the Grey Tower a curious building had been morerecently erected – an observatory with glassed sides and a curvedroof that slid back to allow for the enormous telescope that nowpointed out into the night sky.

If one stood with one's back to the castle's entrance, out of thepitiless dirge of the onshore wind, the headland was piled up tothe left, south of the castle. But to the north the land droppeddown to a sandy bay and this arced out in a wide open sweep forhundreds of yards into the distance. Massive, deeply rutteddunes lay behind the beach and at the end of this long, naturalcrescent a tiny hamlet of cottages was just visible, clusteredaround a small harbour that clung to the shoreline like a manmadelimpet. This was the fishing village of Dunbeaton.

Beyond the headland that lay to the north of Dunbeaton, abeacon had been set in a crude, stone built tower. On the ordersof the Urquhain lairds, its fire was never allowed to die and itnow shone, as it always did, far away into the blackness of thedeep sea, sending out its warning to passing ships of the evilrocks that lay in the bay.

Suddenly, from out of the gloom, two thin, ragged-lookingfigures crept onto the boulders below the castle's great sea wall.They were stooped low as though to stay out of sight but even aglimpse of their wan faces in the half light would show such asimilar cast to their features that they could only be brothers: theelder of the two was James and the other was Alistair - the sonsof Mona and Andrew McLeish of Dunbeaton.

Anyone that happened to see their furtive manner and theanxious, pinched glances they threw to each other would haveknown in an instant that the pair were up to no good. Yet itwould also have been clear from their uncertain movements thatwhatever they were at was unusual work for them. Like so manyothers on this coast they were fishermen and, although still moreboys than men, the harsh life of fighting the unforgiving wintersea for their living had taken its toll and made them appear farolder than their years.

Standing on a great sea boulder that seemed to form part ofthe castle's very foundations, the two of them now gazed downwith dismay at a narrow gap between two large rocks anddiscussed their next steps in low, hesitant tones. The gap was nobigger than the width of a man and the surf gurgled and suckedlike a maddened spirit as it endlessly crashed forwards and backthrough the tightness of the opening.

'Are you sure the tide's at its lowest?' whispered Alistairnervously, every line of his face showing his reluctance at beingthere.

'Aye,' replied James grimly, 'you know it is. I've been watchingthis place for half my life. These rocks are always under waterunless the tide's completely out. Don't go soft on me now, Ally.I'll no be backing out and neither will you.'

James looked at Alistair's frozen face and knew he had to actquickly before his brother's gossamer-thin resolve left him forgood.

'I'll go first,' James said firmly, his face set and tense. 'There'sonly room between that gap for one of us at a time. If thatdrunkard McColl is right, then there's a cave in there with a ledgeat the back. He said he saw it when he was washed in that timeand he thought it looked man-made. But if it's just more of thenonsense he spouts when he's in his cups ... well, you can takemy hand for the last time, Ally. If it's true, I'll call you when Imake it. Then you jump down between the waves and comeyourself.'

Alistair nodded his understanding.

'Some of these old castles have escape routes under them,'James went on, 'to get out by the sea. If that's what this is then it'sa way in for us too. If I'm wrong and it's just a cave then I'm adead man.'

Alistair stared at his brother and wondered yet again if heshould try and talk him out of going.

'God willing and we get in, then there's not to be a word,'continued James in the same firm manner. 'We'll see what thereis to take as we go to the top of the castle, then pick things up aswe come back down. Otherwise we'll be hauling everything up tothe roof. The cave will be underwater by the time we're finishedso we'll have to leave by the main entrance. But ...' and he tried abrave smile as much for himself as for his brother, '... we'll be asrich as lords ourselves by then. Wish me luck, Ally!'

James checked that the sack he'd brought was securely tiedaround his waist and then looked closely at the incoming waves.Timing a slack moment and clutching a tiny, dimmed lantern, heleapt down and squeezed through the gap. He raced into a small,wet cave and as he did so, he opened the shutter of his lamp. Byits thin light he saw a ledge and with a silent prayer of relief heflung himself up onto its surface. By now the sea was rushing into fill the cave but he was untouched, above its level. He turnedaround to shine the light onto the back wall and his heart leaptas he saw that rough steps had been cut out of the stone. Just ashe'd hoped, this must have been an ancient exit from the castle,put there when the foundations were first laid.

Those mad Urquhain, James thought to himself, theywouldn't even trust to six foot of stone wall to keep themselvesout of trouble. He turned back from the steps and cupped hishands to call out to his brother.

'Ally man,' he shouted above the roar of the surf, 'come now!'

To give him his due, his brother didn't hesitate. He jumpeddown into the gap between the surging waves and sprintedthrough the cave. As he reached the back he was hauled up ontothe ledge by James's eager hand.

Together they began the climb upwards. There were probablyno more than a dozen of the slimey steps before they came to aceiling of flat stone and James braced himself as he pushed up atit with his shoulder.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Prisoner's Dilemma by Sean Stuart O'Connor. Copyright © 2012 Sean Stuart O'Connor. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
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Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: John Hunt Publishing
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 178279431X
• ISBN 13: 9781782794318
• Einband: Tapa blanda
• Anzahl der Seiten: 376
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar