‘And a spider in this one,’ reported Maistre Pierre, shaking the creature on to the floor.
‘Strange,’ said Gil.
‘There are marks in the dust down here, see,’ continued the mason. ‘Someone has searched under this bed recently.’
‘Not Jaikie.’
‘Perhaps whoever stabbed him?’ suggested Lowrie Livingstone, watching with interest. ‘And he took the full one away with him? St Mungo’s bones, what a stink.
Sonar slais ill air na suord.’
‘But why?’ wondered Gil. ‘Why take it away?’ He crossed to the window and opened its shutters wide, then bent to look in the press beneath it.
‘I never knew that was there,’ said Lowrie.
‘You have been in this room?’ asked the mason.
‘Well,’ said Lowrie diffidently. ‘Aye. It’s a blag, see? A dare,’ he elucidated. ‘The bejants has to get in here when Jaikie’s no here, and borrow something.’
‘Borrow?’ said Gil, his head still inside the press. Maistre Pierre got to his feet and began poking fastidiously at the blankets in the rancid bed.
‘Well. You ken what I mean.’
Gil, who had undertaken the same dare himself, emerged from the press and shut the door carefully.
‘Nothing in there except a dog-collar and leash,’ he reported, tucking the strips of leather into his doublet.
‘A dog-collar?’ repeated the mason. ‘There is no bottle of usquebae, but look at this. It was under the mattress, on this little shelf.’
‘Likely off William’s dog,’ said Lowrie offhandedly.
‘You knew about the dog?’ Gil said, crossing the room to join Maistre Pierre.
‘Most of us did. He got it a new collar a couple weeks ago. Too good for a beast that age, I thought, but it wasny worth saying so to him. It’d be like Jaikie to keep the old one.’
‘Where did William get the new one?’ Gil asked. The mason put a heavy purse into his hand, and he weighed it and whistled.
‘Anderson the saddler made it to him.’ Lowrie eyed the purse. ‘Is that where he kept it?’
‘Kept what?’ Gil took the purse to the window and peered into its mouth. ‘It’s mostly coppers, but there must be a fair sum here. Where did Jaikie get this much money?’
‘In drink-money,’ said Lowrie reasonably. ‘No off us, for certain, but all the folk that comes to the gate would give him something for sending to say they were here.’
Gil stared at him. It would never have occurred to him to tip a college porter. Which perhaps explains Jaikie’s attitude to the members of the college, he thought.
‘You ken that’s William’s writing on the papers?’ added Lowrie.
‘I wondered when we would get to that.’ The mason picked something off his sleeve and crushed it carefully. Gil, setting the purse down on the small table, bent to lift the singed bundle, making a clumsy task of it with his left hand. Lowrie came to help, and rose, shedding flakes of burnt paper as he shuffled the surviving fragments together.
‘Gently,’ said Gil. ‘We may want to read them.’
‘Oh, there’s nothing interesting here,’ reported Lowrie, already peering at the tiny writing. ‘This looks like his copy of Ning’s notes on Peter of Spain, and that’s Aristotle. It’s lecture notes, maisters.’
‘What, all of it?’
‘I think so.’ Lowrie tilted more sheets to the light. ‘Aye, I remember that point. Do you have to learn your lectures off by heart, maister, so you can give them the same every year?’
‘I know where these have come from,’ said the mason. ‘You recall I commented on how little paper there was in William’s chamber?’
‘I think you must be right,’ said Gil. ‘But how the devil did it get into the brazier? Jaikie sent word by Michael he wanted to speak to me – could it have been about this?’
‘Jaikie might have found them somewhere,’ suggested Lowrie, reaching the last legible page. ‘Aye, it’s all lecture notes, maister, barring William’s own notes for a disputation I mind he won. If there was anything else here, it’s burned past reading.’
Behind the student, Maistre Pierre caught Gil’s eye, shut his mouth and shook his head significantly. Gil accepted the smoky bundle from Lowrie and said, ‘These should go with William’s other property. I suppose they belong to his kin, though I hardly think they’ll be valued. Now let us try and find out who last saw Jaikie alive.’
The courtyard was occupied by several knots of students, standing about discussing this newest happening. Ninian and Michael were seated at the foot of the stairs to the Fore Hall, and as Lowrie followed Gil and Maister Mason into the courtyard they came forward to join their fellow, but were shut out by one of the bigger groups which surrounded them, full of eager questions.
‘Was it a robber?’
‘He tellt someone to go round by Blackfriars gate and they stabbed him.’
‘No, he dee’d of the stink in his chamber. A’body kens bad air can kill ye.’
‘What, wi a great knife?’
‘Is that right his throat’s cut, maister?’ demanded the irrepressible Walter.
‘Who did it?’
‘Auld Nick,’ muttered someone at the back. ‘He was uncivil to him one time too many.’
There were sniggers, but Ralph Gibson, nearest to Gil, said, ‘Maister, did Jaikie kill William? Was it a judgement on him?’
‘Don’t be a fool, Ralph,’ said Maister Kennedy, emerging from the stair which led to his chamber. ‘Jaikie was killed by some human agency. How could that be a judgement on him when we don’t know yet who killed William?’ Ralph stepped back, blushing scarlet, and the well-loved teacher surveyed the group and continued, ‘Good day to you, Maister Cunningham. I had a word with most of these earlier, and it seems to me Robert Montgomery was the last in the college to speak to Jaikie. Anyone else that was down at the yett after Nones can wait here too. The rest of you go and wash your hands if you want to be allowed to eat dinner today.’
Ralph, with the air of one undergoing martyrdom, took up position beside his room-mate, and two other boys remained while the rest of the group drifted off, elaborately casual. Gil looked over his shoulder and found Lowrie with Ninian and Michael, conferring quickly in low tones.
‘We didn’t see anybody, maister,’ said Michael in his deep voice. ‘Not when we came down to speak to Jaikie, and not earlier. He was fine when I came back into the college.’
‘He was alone then?’
‘Aye – sitting in his great chair scowling at the door. Mind you –’ Michael grinned. ‘If I’d not seen William’s dog with you, maister, I’d almost have sworn it was in Jaikie’s chamber.’
‘What made you think that?’ asked the mason curiously.
Michael shrugged. ‘I thought I smelled a dog-kennel, in among the rest of the reek. Likely he’d stepped into the street, got dog-sharn on his boots or something. I checked mine.’ He turned them up, one by one, as Lowrie had done when Gil was looking for coal dust. ‘I look where I’m stepping.’
‘When did you get back?’ Gil asked.
‘I was just in time for Maister Coventry’s lecture at noon. I’d sooner have missed that, as it happened, for it was Euclid and I hadny prepared my answer.’
Gil nodded. The mason looked at the sky and frowned.
‘He must have been dead very soon after that,’ he commented. Michael’s eyes widened.
‘How can you tell that?’ Lowrie asked curiously. ‘You said something like that already.’
Maistre Pierre stepped aside and began a concise little discourse on the progress of stiffening in a dead body. Gil met Maister Kennedy’s eye, and moved towards the other students.
‘When did you last see Jaikie, then?’ he asked Ralph Gibson.
Ralph, blushing and stammering, eventually admitted that he had not been near the yett all day. ‘But I thought Robert . . .’ he said inconclusively.
‘Thought I what?’ asked Robert challengingly.
‘Thought you might . . .’
Gil, watching the boy writhe, took pity on him.
‘You thought Robert might be glad of your company,’ he suggested. Ralph went scarlet with gratitude, and nodded. Robert said nothing, but his face, turned away from Ralph, was eloquent. Gil looked at the two bystanders, recognizing them now as two more of the cast of the play. Frivolity and one of the daughters of Collegia, he thought.
‘Well, Henry? Andrew?’ prompted Maister Kennedy.
‘We saw him just after Michael came in,’ said Henry importantly. ‘Andrew wanted to know where Maister Shaw the Steward was, and somebody thought he was talking to Jaikie. But he wasny. It was a . . . a big man,’ he finished, his voice trailing off as he heard his own words.
‘What kind of a man?’
‘A big warlike kind of man,’ offered Andrew. ‘Wi’ a whinger. He was at the yett talking to Jaikie, and Jaikie said to us he didny ken nor care where Maister Shaw was and to go and get Robert Montgomery. And that’s the last we seen him.’
‘I’ll tell you what kind of a man,’ said Robert Montgomery impatiently. ‘It was no more nor less than my uncle Hugh asking for me. Jaikie let him in and sent these two to fetch me, and gave my uncle an earful of incivility the way he always does – did,’ he corrected himself, ‘when he spoke to him about William. And by the time my uncle Hugh had done with me, I was late for Maister Coventry’s lecture in the Bachelors’ Schule, so he never asked me my question, and it took me all morning to con the answer.’
‘What did your uncle want with you?’ Gil asked.
‘Family business.’ The challenging glare was directed at Gil now.
‘There was nobody else about at the yett at the time?’
‘No that I saw.’
‘And that was the last you saw Jaikie?’
‘It was.’
‘He was alive when you left? Did you or your uncle leave him first?’
‘We left together. I went up the pend and my uncle stepped out at the yett. And that was the last I saw Jaikie.’
‘Alive?’
‘What would I kill him for? Or with, if it comes to that? You ken fine we’ve no daggers about the college, maister, or has it changed that much since your day?’
‘Robert,’ said Maister Kennedy in warning tones. The boy looked at him, and reined in his anger. Dropping his gaze to the chipped flagstones under his feet, he muttered something which might have been an apology.
‘Did you see anything like papers burning in the brazier?’ Gil asked.
‘There was just coals in the brazier when I got there,’ said Robert indifferently.
‘Your uncle had no papers? Or Jaikie?’
‘There was just the coals burning when I got there,’ Robert repeated.
‘And Jaikie was alive when you left him,’ Gil persisted.
Maister Kennedy frowned, and Robert said with weary defiance, ‘When I saw Jaikie he was alive. I didny kill him, maister, and you may as well stop asking it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gil. ‘That will be all just now, Robert.’
Robert ducked his head in a kind of bow and set off rapidly for the pend leading to the inner courtyard. Ralph, who had been standing staring, gulped and hurried after him, exclaiming, ‘Robert, wait! Wait for me!’
‘And you two can go and wash your hands,’ prompted Maister Kennedy.
Andrew and Henry left obediently, with sidelong glances at Gil, and Maistre Pierre said, ‘You were severe.’
‘He was evasive,’ Gil said. Maister Kennedy, about to comment, stopped with his mouth open, clearly listening to the conversation again.
‘So he was,’ he agreed at length. ‘He’s aye so sneisty it takes your mind off what he has to say. He never answered you straight, save to say he didny kill Jaikie.’
‘Which I never thought,’ added Gil. ‘If anyone, I’d suspect his uncle.’
‘I’d put nothing past the Montgomery,’ said Maister Kennedy. ‘It’s a quarter-hour to dinner, I’d best go and wash like the scholars. How are you, Gil? Who was it attacked you? They didny kill you, anyway. Oh, I near forgot,’ he added. ‘Maister Doby asked would you go by his lodging and tell him what you found.’
Dean Elphinstone glared at Gil and Maister Doby impartially.
‘If someone can step in off the street and kill our porter, a man carefully selected by our Steward here to ward the gate,’ he added, with a brief bow towards John Shaw who was frowning as he tried to keep up with the incisive Latin, ‘how are we to keep forty scholars safe, not to mention their regents and the college servants? We need to know, Gilbert, whether this was a deliberate act of vengeance on this man, or the result of a quarrel, or an attack on the college itself.’
‘Or an attempt to reach one of the scholars,’ suggested the mason in French.
The Steward looked worried, but the Dean nodded, and continued, ‘The man was impertinent and unsatisfactory, but he was a college servant and we are responsible for him. Have you discerned any likely reason for this violent death? Are you able to pursue justice for him?’
‘It was not theft,’ said Gil, ‘since that bag of coin I gave you was hidden in his bed, and probably not an attack on the college. Beyond that, Dean, I can only speculate at present.’
‘And what do your speculations tell you? Surely one proposition is more likely than another,’ said the Dean.