The Merchant's Mark (23 page)

As they turned to go in, one of the men threaded his way between the buildings with a word for Andy, glancing sideways at Kate and Alys as he delivered it. Andy nodded, and sent him back.

‘That’s one of the constables at the yett, Jamesie says,’ he reported. ‘We’re all summoned to the quest on Billy. They want it for the morn, after Terce, to get it
out the way afore the King gets here.’

‘I have never seen such a quest,’ remarked Alys.

‘I’ve seen one too many,’ said Andy sourly. ‘You can come along if you will, mistress. I’ve no doubt Lady Kate’d be glad o yir company.’

They were clearing the table away after the midday bite when the gate thumped. Andy, gathering his workforce together as the women carried out the empty dishes, turned to peer
out of the hall window.

‘St Mungo’s banes,’ he said, staring. ‘Is this no your uncle, my leddy?’

‘My uncle?’ Kate swung herself towards the window. Out in the yard, severe in his long black gown and acorn-shaped hat, Canon Cunningham was gazing about him with the air of one
surveying a battlefield. Beside him Matt was looking hopefully at the house. ‘Indeed it is. What’s brought him down here?’

‘I hope nothing is wrong!’ Alys joined her with an armful of folded linen. ‘No, he does not look as if he brings bad news.’

‘That’s good lassies,’ said Nan, handing a wooden platter to each of the little girls. ‘Take those down to Ursel, now, just like Jennet did, and then we’ll go out
in the yard.’

‘Likely he’s come to see what you’re about, the two of you,’ surmised Babb from across the room. ‘Let him in and bid him sit down, my doo, since we’ve made
oursels at home.’

‘Yes, indeed.’ Alys moved to stow the linen in the great press, and paused. ‘I wonder, has he eaten? Do you suppose Ursel . . .’

‘No, no,’ said Canon Cunningham when she asked him the same question. ‘I’ve eaten well, my lassie. You ken the kitchen Maggie keeps. Thank you for asking,’ he
added. Seating himself on one of Maister Morison’s backstools he looked closely at his niece. ‘Well, Kate.’

‘Well, sir,’ she responded, seated opposite him and wondering why she felt as if she had been caught in mischief.

‘Tell me, what are you at here? What about all these tales reaching the Chanonry?’

‘What tales are those, sir?’

‘You had a thief in the house last night, did you no? And a murder this morning.’ The Official looked round him at the gloomy hall. ‘Was it just the one murder, or was it half
the household as Maggie swears that Agnes Dow tellt her?’

‘Just the one, sir,’ Kate assured him, her mouth quirking in spite of herself.

‘So it’s true, then?’ Her uncle raised one eyebrow. ‘Who?’

‘The thief, Christ assoil him. Babb and I took him redhand at his master’s kist, and we shut him in the coalhouse till morning. Then when Andy Paterson went to fetch him out, he was
dead, slain by another inbreaker.’

‘I don’t know, it’s fair coming to it when a decent young woman canny sleep safe in her bed at night. Are you sure you’ve taken no hurt, lassie?’

‘I’m not hurt, sir.’

David Cunningham tut-tutted, shaking his head.

‘It’s the fault o that brother o yours,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we never had the half of these killings before he started looking into them. And your father just
encourages him,’ he added severely to Alys. Her elusive smile flickered, but she made no answer. ‘What was a thief doing in the house anyway? And then another ill-doer in the yard. And
what were you doing sending a man up for your spare poles? What came to the good set?’

They explained, as clearly as they might, and he listened intently, asking the occasional penetrating question. When they had done he sat silent, sipping at the tiny cup of Dutch spirit which
Babb had quietly brought in while they talked.

‘So who is this man with the axe working for?’ he said at length. ‘It seems to me you need to find that out.’

‘We thought,’ said Alys, ‘to send two of the men down to the Hog after dinner, to see what they might learn.’

‘Aye,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It would need to be done wi care, but it might pay you.’
You
, thought Kate, and exchanged a glance with Alys. ‘You got a sight
of him, did you say, Kate?’

‘I did, sir,’ she agreed. ‘I’d ken him again – even if he shaved his wee beard. But there was no badge on his cloak that I could see.’

‘I never seen one neither, Maister David,’ said Babb from behind Kate’s chair. ‘And I got a right look at him as he cam out of that nasty tavern.’

‘And what did the servant lassie say about him? Do you think you can believe her?’

‘She thought he was a stranger to Glasgow,’ supplied Alys, ‘with an accent from Stirling or Edinburgh or some such place.’ She grimaced. ‘I confess I would not hear
the difference. He pressed Billy to complete some task, and Billy said he was paid only to open the yett. She thought they did not mean this yett. Then the man ordered him to get his master
arrested for murder, and to steal the key to the kist.’

‘The Axeman seemed certain there should be more treasure,’ added Kate. ‘Oh, and there was that odd thing he said about his own master.’

‘He did not say it was his master,’ objected Alys scrupulously.

‘True. He said – Mall told us he said,
The Baptizer wanted his goods and gear back.
We assumed he meant his master.’

‘I think we can believe the girl,’ Alys said judiciously. ‘She was in such great distress, I do not think she was lying, and the rest of her story knits well with what we know
already.’

Canon Cunningham nodded, and took another sip of the Dutch spirit, rolling it thoughtfully on his palate.

‘Juniper,’ he said enigmatically. ‘Aye, Alys, she had reason to be distressed, I suppose.’

‘It makes no sense,’ said Kate. ‘There was a strange man’s head and a bag of coin and jewels in a barrel brought home from Blackness, and now another stranger running
about Glasgow, persuading Billy there should be more of the coin and jewels still hid in this house, and killing him when he can’t find it.’

‘And chopping your oxter-pole in two and all, my doo,’ said Babb.

‘Maybe Gil has learned something more,’ said Alys.

‘Aye, Gilbert,’ said Canon Cunningham. ‘Where did you say he was gone?’ he asked casually. The two girls looked at each other.

‘He was going to Stirling,’ said Alys. ‘He left with four of Sir Thomas’s men, I thought.’

‘Aye, and Rob and Tam from my household and all,’ agreed the Official. ‘I ken he went to Stirling. I’m just wondering where he would go after that.’

‘Linlithgow,’ said Alys positively. ‘My father left this morning, to go by Kilsyth and then meet him in Linlithgow. He would not change his plans without letting us
know.’

‘Why do you ask, sir?’ said Kate.

‘No reason,’ said her uncle. He drew his spectacles from his sleeve, unfolded them and fitted them carefully on his nose. ‘I had a word from Robert Blacader,’ he went on,
feeling in his sleeve again. ‘He writes that he saw your brother yestreen, and had the tale of the treasure and the quest from him. And,’ he glanced at Alys, ‘that he has bidden
Gilbert report to him.’

‘Oh!’ said Alys, and her eyes shone.

‘Quite so,’ agreed the Official. He located the piece of paper, drew it from his sleeve and unfolded it. ‘Where are we now? Aye, and also that Will Knollys had a long word wi
Gilbert after he spoke wi the King, and
I am tellt he was avysit to carry his search intil Ayrshire.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Alys positively. ‘He was certainly to meet my father after he was in Stirling. To go to Ayrshire he must come back through Glasgow, not? Linlithgow is the other
way, I think.’

‘I doubt whether your father would let him go into Ayrshire alone,’ Kate contributed.

‘Aye, I’ve no doubt you’re right,’ agreed her uncle. ‘We needny worry about Gilbert. He’s a man grown, after all.’

‘I never worry about him,’ said Kate.

Her uncle threw her a sharp look, and Alys said, ‘I know very little about Treasurer Knollys, sir. Do you know him?’

‘I do,’ said David Cunningham without expression. Alys waited hopefully.

‘Isn’t he one of the Knights of Rhodes?’ Kate asked.

Canon Cunningham snorted. ‘He contrived to be made Preceptor here in Scotland of the Knights of Jerusalem and Rhodes, the Order of St John, though he isny in minor Orders, let alone one of
the Knights. He pays the Preceptory’s taxes,’ he added fairly, ‘as he can well afford to do, between the income he has from the Order and his own trading along the English coast.
He’s been Treasurer of Scotland since the commencement of this reign, if I mind right, and spends a lot of his time bickering wi Robert Lyle about where the late King’s hoard went to
and trying to lay his hands on what’s still to be found. He’d be overjoyed to see that bagful your brother found.’

‘Would he so?’ said Kate. ‘And to see it brought before the King like that?’

‘Oh, aye,’ said the Official, with the same absence of expression.

‘How did he serve the late King?’ Kate asked.

Her uncle threw her an approving look. ‘He was one of the custumars,’ he recalled, ‘and made a fair profit on the customs of Leith. I think he served for the King in that sorry
business wi my lord of Albany’s treason, ten or more year ago, and I’ve no doubt the Preceptory held some of this same hoard for the King in ’88, when it was clear what way things
were going.’

‘So why should he not know where the treasure is now?’ asked Alys.

‘The late King planted boxes of it all up and down the east side of Scotland before the rebellion,’ said Kate, ‘like a squirrel in autumn. Quite likely he’d not have
recalled all of it himself, even had he lived, from all I’ve heard, let alone the rest of us guess where it might have gone.’

‘No to mention,’ added David Cunningham, suddenly abandoning legal discretion, ‘my lord St John of Jerusalem changing sides just afore the rising.’

‘Is that his title?’ said Alys, round-eyed. ‘Kate!’

‘Of course!’ said Kate. ‘The Baptizer!’

They exchanged glances all three.

‘It fits,’ agreed her uncle slowly. ‘It fits what I know of the man. But we have no proof.’

‘Proof is easy,’ said Alys sweepingly ‘It is merely a matter of evidence.’

‘I like the “merely”,’ said Kate.

‘No, but wait. What do we know? The man with the axe had paid Billy to open a gate somewhere, and he was sure there should be more treasure here in the house.’ She paused.
‘There was Billy’s tale of a thief in the yard at Linlithgow. What if the treasure had been held there, and the man with the axe was the thief?’

‘Billy said the thief ran off,’ objected Kate.

‘He said there was a fight,’ Alys reminded her, ‘so there must have been more than one man. He also said the thief was nowhere near the cart, but patently somebody was. If he
lied in that, he may well have lied in other things.’

‘I wonder if Mall heard any more?’

‘We can hardly ask her just now, poor lass.’ Alys clasped her hands and gazed down at them. ‘If the treasure was hidden in the yard, and this man of Knollys’s came to
fetch it, and something went wrong – I suppose it means that Knollys has known where this part of the treasure has been, and perhaps intended to keep it to himself for some reason.’

‘Will Knollys would need no reason to hold on to money,’ said David Cunningham. ‘It’s what makes him a good man for Treasurer. Your conjecture is no bad, Alys my lassie,
but it could as well be Noll Sinclair.’

‘Sinclair?’ said Kate. ‘I mind him. We stayed at Roslin one time, my mother and sisters and me, when I was a wee thing. They were kind to me. Do you mind, Babb?’

‘No doubt,’ said her uncle, over Babb’s agreement, ‘but he holds land in Linlithgow, and I’m certain he’s let some part of it to a cooper. If the coin was
hidden in the yard, it was hidden on Sinclair’s land.’

‘Is that likely, sir?’ Kate asked.

‘Oh, aye. Sinclair was aye a good friend to the Crown.’

‘But the man with the axe did not mention Sinclair,’ objected Alys.

‘You need more information,’ said Canon Cunningham firmly. Kate noted the
you
again. ‘But for now, lassies, what are the two of you to do? I suppose you must go home
from time to time,’ he said to Alys, who smiled quickly. ‘But you, Kate, are you to stay here? I hardly think it safe.’

‘Maister Morison said the same,’ said Kate. ‘But I don’t like to leave the bairns. There should be someone in the house to take charge.’

‘Bairns?’

‘They’re in the yard,’ said Alys, ‘with Matt’s friend Mistress Thomson.’ The Official craned to see out of the window. His thin cheeks creased in a rare smile
as he saw the little girls, who were industriously sweeping a small patch of ground with two very large brooms, while Matt and Mistress Thomson lifted broken crocks. ‘Kate is right, sir,
there should be someone in control. There are only the two women in the house, and one of my lassies on loan, and though Andy has his master’s trust, he also has his hands full with the men
and the yard. He can’t see to two bairns as well.’

And for how long? Kate wondered, biting her lip. What will come to their father? Imprisoned, however kindly, kept from his trade and his household –

‘What will happen to Maister Morison, sir?’ said Alys.

The Official abandoned the view of the children and sat back, looking from Alys to Kate.

‘That depends,’ he said. ‘He needs to show clearly he had no knowledge of the barrel, which is no an easy thing. This matter of his man breaking in and then being murdered,
while he himself was held secure, should go in his favour.’ He paused to consider, eyeing Kate carefully. ‘Aye, I suppose you had best stay here the now, Kate. If it comes to a trial,
no doubt the law will put someone in place, but the Justice Ayre won’t reach Glasgow for weeks.’ His thought was clear to Kate: At least it gives the lassie something to think about.
She lifted her chin and eyed him back, and after a moment he gave her another of those rare smiles. ‘My, Kate. Times I see your father in you. Does it matter to you, what happens to Amphibal
Morison’s boy?’