Authors: Pat McIntosh
‘A lesson to us all, Gilbert,’ he said in his rich Latin. ‘Death can strike at any time, and without warning. That unhappy woman has died in the midst of her villainy, with no opportunity for repentance or amendment of life. I hope our two songmen, Craigie and Sim, will learn from her example and make full confession and restitution for their sins.’
Lockhart had been more realistic about the consequences.
‘It falls to me, I suppose,’ he said in harassed tones, ‘as good-son, to order all, Sir Edward’s burial and Dame Ellen’s, and executing his will, and dealing wi her property, and I’ll have the first hairst, the wheat field, to get in as soon as we’re back in Lanarkshire. As for what to do wi these daft lassies, I’m at my wits’ end. Annie will wed her doctor and be off my hands, and I’m glad of it, for she’s by far less biddable than she was, but the other two, well! My wife will take them under her eye, but I’ve to get them to her first.’
‘Maybe Mistress Forrest would mind them the now,’ Gil suggested. ‘She seems a capable woman.’
‘Aye, maybe,’ said Lockhart dubiously, and then with more enthusiasm, ‘Aye, you could be right. A good thought, maister. And meantime I can get a word wi Sir Simon about getting Sir Edward in the ground, and who I should ask about whether Dame Ellen’s fit to put in a kirkyard, or if she’s to go out at a crossroads somewhere. I canny believe it o her, she was aye a steering argumentative woman, but you never think o sic wickedness in someone that’s kin, even by marriage. I don’t know, if I’d seen what would come o’t I’d never ha got involved in this whole enterprise.’ He rose to leave Otterburn’s office, where Gil had taken him to explain his findings, and offered his hand. On the doorstep he turned back. ‘At least Sir Edward’s got his release now, and dee’d at peace, sic a grace as that was.’
Maistre Pierre had appeared at the back door after dinner, apparently in the hope of picking over the outcome of the case, so now they were once more in the comfortable little solar, with its windows firmly shuttered against the insistent wind, and Lowrie was handing wine. Catherine accepted her glass from him and remarked,
‘The boy knew a great deal more than anyone realised, I think, including himself.’
‘He’s confirmed the time of Peg Simpson’s death,’ Gil agreed, ‘which I could ha done with knowing earlier, as well as this tale of the argument in the kirkyard.’
‘But what did he fear?’ asked Maistre Pierre. ‘What kept him silent?’
‘I think,’ said Alys, ‘so far as Luke and I can understand him, he had hidden from the battle at the Cross, by going up the Stablegreen beyond St Nicholas’. He saw the Muirs, and described them well, going up the street and down again.’
‘To call on Dame Ellen at the hostel?’ interrupted her father.
‘We think so,’ agreed Gil.
‘When they returned,’ Alys continued, ‘there was a woman with them, arguing, who must have been Peg Simpson. They passed him, and he didn’t see what happened. But when the battle ended and all turned for home, he set off down the Stablegreen, and found the woman lying dead in the street.’ She grimaced. ‘He seems to have decided that some of the other prentices must have killed her, rather than the Muirs. That was what frightened him.’
‘What, that they might come after him if he told anyone?’ Lowrie said in surprise. ‘He’s no very sharp, is he?’
‘No,’ said Maistre Pierre with feeling.
‘He is barely fourteen, and without friends in a strange country,’ said Alys.
‘I suppose. But when did he see these other two arguing in the kirkyard?’ asked Maistre Pierre. ‘Some time when he should have been working, most likely.’
‘That was in the afternoon of that same day,’ Gil said. ‘Dame Ellen must have been newly arrived in Glasgow.’
‘Then how did she know the man?’ Alys wondered. ‘What did they argue about?’
‘I know!’ said Lowrie. ‘Barnabas kept saying he
tellt the woman
that he wouldny have an eye to what happened at the Cross. You mind? When we were called to the dead woman?’
‘So he did,’’ recalled Gil. ‘I took it he was talking about Annie herself, but it must ha been Dame Ellen. Likely she accosted him, asked him to watch, and got an earful.’
‘Oh, yes!’ said Lowrie. ‘He’d never have obliged anyone like that.
More than my place is worth
,’ he quoted, and grimaced.
‘And then he dropped the cord and she insisted on keeping it.’ Alys was nodding. ‘It fits better, Gil. It explains why he went looking for her, and why she killed him.’ She made a face. ‘You know, when I spoke of crows, I did not expect Berthold to be the fourth crow. The one who was not there at all.’
Gil turned his head as two figures passed the window. The house door opened and closed, and there was a scratching at the chamber door.
‘Maister Gil?’ It was Euan. ‘There’s a chiel here for you from Canon Muir’s house, he was getting a crack with us in the kitchen and now he is wishing to get a word wi you. I tellt him you were busy and private,’ he went on importantly, ‘but he’ll not listen. Will I be sending him away?’
‘No, you will not,’ said Gil, on a reflex. ‘I’ll come out. Who is it?’
It was the man Nory, neat in his dark blue garments, with his bundle at his feet, and he had come to take service with Gil.
‘You’ve put an end to my service wi the Muirs, maister,’ he said reasonably, ‘and it was very clear to me when I seen you afore that you’ve need o a man to see to your garments. So I’ve heard about your household, and here I am, and I’ll ha the same as you pay this fellow,’ he nodded at Euan, still listening suspiciously from across the hall, ‘and my keep, and a new suit o clothes at New Year.’
‘Will you now?’ said Gil, looking at him in amazement.
‘That seems like a good idea,’ said Alys, tucking her hand through Gil’s arm. ‘What else will you do? The garden? Sweeping the house?’
‘A garden?’ Nory brightened. ‘I’ll lend a hand to the garden, mistress, and gladly. And I can work in sugar-plate, make saints and subtleties for the table, if you’re so inclined. And I suppose,’ he conceded, ‘I can take on the household tasks the women canny manage. But my main duties would be looking after your man’s clothes and himself as well.’
‘It’s a very different household from your last one,’ Gil warned him. Nory nodded.
‘Be a pleasant change.’
‘Well!’ said Maistre Pierre, when they reported this, returning to the solar. ‘Your household increases daily, Gilbert. You will be Provost yourself before you know it.’
‘Sweet St Giles, I hope not!’ said Gil.