Authors: Pat McIntosh
‘The battle went on for some time,’ said Gil. ‘More than an hour, by the sound of it, though it was over by midnight.’
‘Didn’t Euan,’ said Lowrie suddenly, and they all looked at him. He went red. ‘Didn’t Euan say the fisherman mentioned goods that went down on a handcart that night?’
‘You’re right,’ said Gil. ‘What’s more, I’ll wager I ken what way they went down to the shore. I saw the tracks of a handcart, out on the Pallioun Croft.
And
,’ he suddenly recalled, ‘Austin Muir heard or saw a handcart as they went back up Rottenrow. That’s why the vergers’ handcart was put away dirty!’
‘So that went through the Upper Town as well,’ said Maistre Pierre.
‘Mon Dieu!
I have known it quieter at the Fair.’
‘I wonder who pushed it,’ said Alys. ‘The man who died, or his accomplice?’
‘And some time in all this,’ said her father, ‘the woman Peg was killed, and tied to the Cross instead of Annie Gibb.’
‘Did you say,’ said Alys, ‘that Annie’s man spoke to her after the prentices were finished and gone home? Was that after midnight?’
‘I think so,’ said Gil. ‘I need to check that wi him.’ He made a face. ‘And Canon Muir saw his nephews to bed before midnight, so if this is right it was none of their doing that Annie was freed from the Cross.’
‘A pity,’ said Alys seriously. She made another note on the tablets. ‘The handcart. It must have come back as well. I wonder if the Muirs saw it.’
‘I wonder if Berthold saw it,’ said Gil. He considered the cart and its movements for a little, while Lowrie and Maistre Pierre debated how easy it would be to push the thing down to the shore in the dark. It must indeed have been returned that night, and stowed in the undercroft. Maister Sim’s gown and cards and the incriminating purse must have been put there later, but how much later? Before Barnabas was killed? After it? And why?
‘And by whom?’ said Alys, when he voiced the question.
‘I suppose by the person who killed the verger the next day,’ said Catherine in French.
‘We’ve no proof,’ said Gil, considering this, ‘but it’s possible.’
‘And the other property left where it would cast suspicion on your friend,’ the old woman continued. She gathered her skirts together and rose stiffly; the rest of them rose with her, Socrates looking hopefully at Gil. ‘It is very possible,
maistre,
that if you find out who had your friend’s gown you will find the killer of the Cathedral servant.’ She bent her head in acknowledgement of his answer, raised her hand in her customary blessing, and headed for the door. Alys followed, to make certain she had all she needed for the night, and the men looked at one another.
‘Could she be right?’ asked Lowrie, when Gil had translated her comment.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Maistre Pierre gloomily. ‘The problem is finding it out. I suppose you ask all of the songmen when they last saw the yellow gown, and decide on which is lying.’
‘Something like that, I suspect.’ Gil sat down again, lifting Alys’s tablets, and studied the list in her neat writing. Socrates lay down on his feet with a resigned sigh. ‘I must talk to Stockfish Tam. Lowrie, could you go out to the kitchen and ask Euan when Tam will be back in Glasgow?’
‘So what do we have this far?’ asked Maistre Pierre as the young man left.
‘At midnight? We have the prentice battle lost and won and the combatants gone home, we have Annie still known to be at the Cross, the Muir brothers and all the people in the hostel blamelessly in their beds, and Peg,’ he scanned the list, ‘no, we have no trace of Peg save this elusive man who is said to have heard an argument.’
‘And we do not know what time that was,’ said Alys, coming back into the room. She sat down on the padded settle beside Gil, and tucked her hand through his arm. ‘Then there is the handcart and whoever was pushing it.’
‘Vraiment,’
agreed her father. ‘And after midnight?’
‘Some time after midnight,’ said Gil, ‘Annie was freed from the Cross and Peg’s body was tied there in her place. Annie and whoever was with her vanished into the night, leaving Sawney to assume that it was his mistress he saw the next time he looked. The handcart was returned, and put in its proper place in the undercroft—’
‘That suggests to me,’ said Alys, ‘that it was the verger who put it away, not his accomplice. And perhaps,’ she looked round at Gil, ‘it was he who placed Maister Sim’s gown on the cart.’
‘Why did he leave the coin there, if so?’ Maistre Pierre objected.
‘It was in effect hidden, inside the gown,’ she said slowly. ‘Barnabas knew it was there, but nobody else did. It was not seen until someone looked closely at the garment.’
‘Hmm,’ said her father. ‘And if any found it, they would take it to be Maister Sim’s. You could be right, I suppose.’
‘There is no way to prove it,’ she said, ‘but it would work.’
Gil grimaced.
‘I’m no judge of the matter,’ he said. ‘I’m too close to it. But it seems to me very odd. If it was left there by the man who pushed the handcart through the night, we could assume it was his takings from the last shipment down the river. In which case why not take it home with him?’
‘Perhaps he left it for his accomplice,’ said Alys. ‘No, that doesn’t work.’
‘It could have been there for two nights and a day,’ Gil said. ‘Why did the accomplice not come for it?’
‘Exactly,’ said Alys. ‘And yet . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. ‘Gil, suppose it was the other man’s share of the takings? If the man who pushed the handcart, whether it was Barnabas or the other, took the whole payment home with him to count and divide it, then perhaps he brought that purse back the next day—’
‘Yesterday, in effect,’ said Maistre Pierre.
‘Yesterday,’ she agreed. ‘And hid it when he got the chance.’
‘It makes the gap in the time shorter,’ said her father.
‘It does,’ said Gil, ‘though it doesn’t explain the way it was hidden, unless someone deliberately wished to incriminate Habbie.’
‘Sim is well regarded among the songmen,’ observed Maistre Pierre.
‘Quite. We need to consider that further. But returning to the night Annie disappeared,’ pursued Gil, ‘some time after midnight, some time after the handcart was stowed, someone came by and throttled Peg with a sack-tie, apparently unaware that she was dead already.’
‘There are gaps,’ said Maistre Pierre after a pause.
‘There are huge gaps. And none of it makes sense. Was it the verger, or his accomplice, who killed Peg? Why was she killed? When?’
‘You think it was not Annie’s rescuer who killed her?’
‘I hope not,’ said Alys. ‘To have her freedom at the cost of another woman’s life!’
‘Euan thinks the man will be back in Glasgow wi the tide tomorrow,’ said Lowrie, returning. ‘It wasny easy to get a clear answer from him, but that was about the sum of it.’
‘It never is,’ said Gil. ‘I’ll try to get down there the morn’s morn, then.’ He drew out his own tablets, and paused as they fell open at his list of Annie Gibb’s properties. ‘Ah, there is something I must ask you about before you leave, Pierre. Now, what are these gaps? What do we still need to find out?’
‘Near everything,’ said his father-in-law gloomily. Ignoring this, Gil drew three columns and headed them.
‘For Peg, we still need to find out who she wanted to pick a fight with, and who killed her if it was not the same person, and where.’
‘And when,’ said Alys.
‘You make it sound so simple,’ said Lowrie.
‘Perhaps an hour or so before she was put where we saw her,’ said Maistre Pierre, ignoring this. ‘No, indeed, it must be longer, for she had just begun to stiffen before she was in place, I think, from the position of her head when we found her.’
‘So she might have been killed while the battle was still going on,’ said Alys.
‘Who had the opportunity?’ Gil smoothed and re-incised a line on the wax leaf. ‘All the prentices, I suppose. The man with the handcart. Peg’s own man, though I think Otterburn is right, it was not him.’
‘The Muirs,’ supplied Lowrie. ‘Anyone from the hostel that was out. The men from the Trindle.’
‘Anyone, in effect,’ said Maistre Pierre.
‘We’ve found remarkably little about her, poor girl,’ agreed Gil. ‘Oh, and I’d like to find who throttled her after she was dead.’
‘Could that be why Berthold is so frightened?’ said Alys suddenly. They looked at one another. ‘I wondered if it was something he had seen, but if he has encountered Peg in the shadows and—’
‘Oh!’ said Gil. ‘He’s such a wee rabbit of a boy, but Peg was hardly a sonsy wench either. It’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Just the same,’ said Lowrie slowly, ‘he keeps saying he
saw
nothing. Not
did nothing,
but
saw nothing.’
Maistre Pierre nodded.
‘I agree. It hardly seems likely. I suppose we must keep it in mind, nevertheless.’
‘I need to start questioning folk again,’ said Gil in annoyance. ‘I’ve asked more questions about Annie’s disappearance than about Peg’s death, which isny right.’ He made some more notes under Peg’s name, and went on to the next column. ‘Now, what do we need to learn about Annie?’
‘Where is she?’ said Lowrie.
‘Who has stolen her away,’ said Maistre Pierre.
‘And we’ve heard nothing so far that might tell us either of those.’
‘If I can find the cadger’s lodging I may learn something,’ said Alys. Gil looked round at her. ‘I told you, I do wonder if he has carried messages for Annie.’
‘But if he’s out in Lanarkshire the now,’ he objected, ‘that’s little help.’
‘He has a wife, so Kate tells me.’
‘So we still need to learn near everything about Annie too.’ Gil made another note. ‘And for Barnabas – you know, we’ve uncovered a lot about what the man was up to, but we’re still no nearer finding who killed him either. We’re no doing that well, are we?’
‘No, but what do we know about the verger?’ said Maistre Pierre. ‘That he may or may not have pushed the handcart down to the shore and back again.’
‘And that the sight of a sack-tie prompted him to go to find someone, who then killed him,’ said Alys.
‘Peg went out to find someone and pick a fight wi them too,’ observed Lowrie. ‘I suppose it wasny the same person.’
‘Peg was also throttled with a sack-tie,’ said Alys.
‘No saying if it was all the same person,’ said Gil, ‘though I suspect not. It would be too simple. I think in Peg’s case at least we’re dealing wi two different people, one who killed her, one who throttled her. Whether either o these dealt wi Barnabas is something we need to find out.’ He closed his tablets with a snap, then flicked them open them again as he recalled something. ‘Pierre, you’ve been down into Ayrshire, I think. Would you ken aught about any of these properties?’
His father-in-law took the list and held it up at arm’s length in the fading light from the window.
‘You write too small these days,’ he complained. ‘What are these? Redwrae, Fail, no, I know nothing of these, though they are close by Tarbolton I think. Carngillan neither. Ah! Now Hallrig I have visited. That is the place where the quarry is, that I have mentioned. The tenant was very civil, though his ale was thin, and the quarry is a good one, but I thought the carriage too dear to bring the stone into Glasgow.’
‘Quarry,’ repeated Gil.
‘Yes, yes, and a good one as I said, that blond freestone you get all over Ayrshire. It belongs to the Gibb family. Is it this Annie’s property indeed, then?’
‘Hallrig is hers, so likely the quarry is too, unless the feu superior retained the mineral rights. How did you come to be there?’
‘Seeking stone, as ever. Why are you interested?’
‘Sawney mentioned a cousin of Annie’s father who felt the property should be his. I wondered if that might be a lead.’
Maistre Pierre pulled a long face.
‘I have no knowledge of such a thing. I dealt chiefly with a man of law in Kilmarnock, one Maister James Bowling, and then with the tenant.’
‘The man Bowling never mentioned a dispute?’
‘No, never. He would hardly wish to do so,’ Maistre Pierre pointed out, ‘if he hoped to sell me the stone.’
Gil retrieved his tablets and considered the list for a space.
‘We need to learn more about this,’ he decided. ‘I’m reluctant to go into Ayrshire myself the now, Hugh Montgomery is active and a single Cunningham would be a rare temptation for him, but once you’ve spoken to the man on the Stablegreen, Lowrie, you could go out to Kilmarnock, take Euan wi you, talk to this James Bowling. It’s no more than twenty mile, you should do it in the day and back again. I’ll let you have a letter of introduction and we’ll talk over what you should ask him.’ Lowrie nodded. ‘And I’ll chase Stockfish Tam.’ He looked at Alys. ‘I think you have plans of your own, sweetheart.’
‘I do,’ she said composedly. ‘Though perhaps I could speak to the man on the Stablegreen, to let Lowrie leave earlier.’
‘A good notion. I hope your plans don’t involve being seized and held at knifepoint.’
‘So do I.’
‘
Et moi aussi, par ma foi
,’ said her father with emphasis, and got to his feet. They all rose with him. ‘I must be gone. But I wished to say to you,
ma mie
.’ He looked seriously at Alys. ‘Élise told me you had been to the house, and I am glad of it. Do you think you will be better friends now?’
She curtsied to him, bending her head so that Gil could not see her expression.
‘My good-mother made me most welcome,’ she said. Maistre Pierre frowned, but did not press his question; instead he delivered a brief blessing and allowed Gil to accompany him to the back door of the house. Socrates passed them in the doorway and padded out into the evening, sniffing at corners.
‘I do not know what they discussed,’ Maistre Pierre said, a slight unease audible in his voice.
‘Some women’s matter, perhaps,’ Gil suggested. Out across the yard the kitchen door opened, and the servants emerged, still chattering, heading for the main house and their beds. Seeing their master and their former master in the doorway they fell silent and waited politely while Gil bade his father-in-law goodnight and saw him walk off into the twilight, then all filed in, offering their own goodnights in turn. The dog, his patrol completed, returned with them, and Euan followed, raising his blue bonnet and ducking his head with a sheepish grin. Gil closed the door behind Jennet, who was last, and grasped her wrist before she could reach the stairs.