The King's Corrodian (12 page)

‘You should ha been there, maister,’ said the novice Mureson, and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. The black cat appeared from under the other bed and rubbed against his legs.

‘Clearly,’ said Gil, handing the young man a cup of spiced ale. ‘I wish we had something stronger to offer you. Tell me it again.’

‘I shouldny be here out my place.’ Mureson scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his habit. ‘But we’re all at— Christ aid me, I think I’ll ask to transfer to the Charterhouse.’

‘They have their disagreements, too.’ Alys entered the chamber, a steaming beaker in one hand, a second candlestick in the other. ‘Drink this. It will settle you.’

‘Aye, I suppose they must.’ Mureson took the beaker, looked helplessly from that to the ale, then set both on the floor and buried his face in his hands again. ‘But to hear Auld Harry accused!’ he said from behind them. ‘It’s no to be borne!’

‘Tell me again,’ Gil prompted.

After a moment, the young man emerged from hiding, and took a cautious sip of Alys’s draught. Surprise crossed his face, and he took another.

‘It began the usual way,’ he said shakily. ‘Auld Harry, Faither Henry, read the chapter, and Faither Prior led us wi the prayers we aye use, and minded us it’s our duty to
confess all faults and wickedness, from the least to the greatest, in ourselves or our brothers
.’ He was using the Latin phrases unconsciously. ‘So a couple o the lay brothers confessed to gossip and argument, and then afore they could withdraw, afore we novices could speak – I mean, Adam aye finds something to confess – afore he could start, Sandy Raitts and Thomas Wilson rose both at once, on opposite sides o the chamber, and began,
Accuso
. Faither Prior tried to make them speak one at a time, and wait till we’d left, but they shouted him down, the both o them, accusing one another first and then Faither Henry as well, and there was all the folk about them shouting, and us novices trying to defend our teacher.’ He scrubbed at his eyes again, took another mouthful from the beaker, and gulped it down.

‘Accusing him of what?’ Alys asked. She set the candlestick down on a kist and sat beside Mureson on the bed, at a modest distance. The cat jumped onto her knee and settled down, watching the young man. ‘What are they all supposed to have done?’

‘Of killing Andrew,’ said Mureson, as if it was obvious. ‘And burning the infirmary. And burning Pollock. All of it.’ He gulped another mouthful, and licked his lips. ‘And then, and then, I’ve no notion who started it but they was all fighting, and Brother Dickon got his men thegither and swept all us novices out wi him, and bade me let you ken, so I cam here.’ He sighed, and sat back, peering into the empty beaker.

‘How did each react to the accusations?’ Gil asked. ‘Raitts and Wilson denied what each other had said, I take it.’

‘Oh, aye. Shouting about it all across the Chapter House. And Faither Henry, he rose when they accused him, and then he just stood there. Shook his head a couple o times but said naught. No that he’d ha been heard, save he went into his lecturing voice.’

‘They were still arguing when you left?’ said Alys.

‘Arguing? Arguing it out wi their fists, they were. It was a rammy like a market day. Never seen sic a thing, mistress. I should transfer to the Charterhouse,’ he said again.

‘Our Lady may counsel you differently,’ she said, leaning forward to lay a hand on his sleeve.

‘Did either man adduce any evidence?’ Gil asked. ‘Claim to have seen or heard aught that might back his accusation?’ He considered Mureson’s face, and his more composed posture. ‘Drink your ale, and go over it again for me if you can. Start where they both stood and said
Accuso
. Did they point? Name one another?’

The young man’s fists clenched. He looked down at them, and carefully opened them out and laid his hands flat on his knees.

‘Aye. They rose, in the same moment, and pointed, and said each other’s names. And then turned and pointed at Faither Henry, accused him by name and all. The rest o us began shouting, and Faither Prior bawling for silence over it all, and Faither Henry rose and said naught, just stood there. Then Raitts and Wilson both started denying it, saying,
It was you was abroad in the night
and would gie no reason.’

‘They both said that?’ asked Alys. Mureson glanced at her and nodded.

‘And then – it was Wilson, I think – pointed at Faither Henry and said,
You and all, abroad in the night. What were you both at, whispering in corners?
And Raitts turned on him and all. I thought they two was friends,’ he said, and scrubbed at his eyes again. ‘Auld Harry spends as much time in the library. They’ve aye seemed at ease thegither.’

‘And then what?’ prompted Gil. ‘Did they say anything more about the accusations?’

‘No.’ Mureson thought a moment. ‘No, I think they didny, for that was when the fighting began. And then Brother Dickon whistled his men thegither, and—’ His face twisted, and he turned away from the light.

‘I’ve met your teacher,’ said Gil, ‘and the librarian, but no the man Wilson. Tell me about him. Does he bear office?’

‘Aye.’ Mureson drew a deep breath, and accepted the change of subject. ‘He’s sub-factor, collects the rents from the town and sees to the maintenance of the properties the house holds there. Oversees an altar in St John’s Kirk, that we have the gift of. Deals wi Andro Pullar about the rest o the rents.’

‘You’re very clear on all that,’ said Gil.

‘Oh, aye. I’ve been assisting him these two month, till Yule there. It’s how we learn all the workings o a house like this.’

Gil nodded. That made good sense.

‘And the man himself?’

Another deep breath, and a check, and Mureson said defensively, ‘You canny expect me to say ower much about my fellows.’

‘So you have little good to say of him?’

‘I never said that.’ Henry White’s teaching suddenly showed in the young man’s manner. ‘He’s a punctilious member of the House, does his duties assiduously, conducts himsel modestly at the Office—’

‘But what sort of man is he?’ Alys asked. Mureson’s mouth twisted, and he turned his face away again. ‘We are investigating murder here, brother, you ken that. We need to hear anything that might be relevant.’

‘Aye, but if I tell you something – about Brother Dickon, or Patey, say – and it’s no relevant,’ said Mureson a little desperately, ‘then I’ve slandered a friend to no purpose.’

‘We canny tell,’ said Gil, ‘whether a fact’s to the purpose or no, till the matter is ended. We need all the information.’

The young man shook his head, still keeping his face averted.

Alys said gently, ‘You must pray over it. Our Lady will show you the rights of the matter, I am very sure of that.’

He turned back to look at her, and after a moment nodded.

‘You’re wise, mistress. I’ll—’

There was a tapping at the door. Gil, the nearest, opened it, and found Jennet outside.

‘If you please, maister,’ she bobbed a curtsy, ‘here’s some more o the novices, saying this fellow’s sought for, to say Compline wi the rest o them.’

‘Sandy?’ It was Munt, behind Jennet, looking as shaken as Mureson and peering over the girl’s shoulder for a sight of his friend. Socrates, beside him, nudged his hand, and he petted the dog’s soft ears absently. ‘We’re to, we’re to, we’re to say Compline. Now. And an Act o Contrition afore it. The whole o the house, never mind how hoarse some o us are yet. I doubt we’ll be on our knees most o the night.’

‘It’s deserved,’ said Calder out of the shadows behind his friend. The cat jumped down off Alys’s knee and slipped under the bed again. ‘We should never ha come to sic behaviour. It’s no worthy.’

‘Aye, so we should be on our knees,’ said Mureson. He rose, but hesitated. ‘You two go ahead, I’ll be right ahint you.’

‘Are you fit for it?’ Munt asked, rather anxiously. ‘There’s, there’s, there’s one or two’ll be absent by what I hear. You’d never be missed if it’s too much.’

‘No, he should be there,’ said Calder. ‘The whole o us needs to ask forgiveness.’

‘I ken my duty,’ said Mureson. ‘I’ll be right ahint you, never fear.’

Munt withdrew unwillingly, the dog following him, Jennet following the dog. Mureson turned to Gil and gestured to him to close the door. When the heavy planks thudded into place he produced, from within his habit, a linen bundle.

‘This is Andrew’s,’ he said simply, holding it out. ‘He asked me to take it, keep it safe, when he was confined. It’s— we’re no supposed to have personal possessions, let alone … well, you’ll see when you look at it.’

‘Where was it?’ Gil asked, taking the folded linen. It was warm from contact with the young man’s body; there seemed to be papers in the bundle, and one or two small objects with hard corners.

‘He’d a hiding place. Under the planks o his bed, right cunning. I think you should have it now.’ Mureson edged past Gil towards the door. ‘I need to go, maister. Thank you for – for all you’ve said. And you, mistress. And for the draught, whatever it was, it was right helpful.’ He ducked in an embarrassed bow and slipped out.

Gil followed him, saying, ‘If you think of aught else, come back and tell me as soon as might be.’

‘I will, maister.’ Mureson bowed again, and hurried across the wide chilly hall of the building to where Munt waited with a lantern in each hand. ‘God send you all rest the night.’

Another of the penitential psalms arose deep-voiced in the cloister, broken by coughing, and figures moved in the shadows beyond the dark windows of the hall. The two novices looked up in alarm, and left hurriedly; Gil assumed they could join the procession from the end of the slype, probably unnoticed except by their immediate fellows.

‘What’s amiss, maister?’ It was Tam, in the doorway behind him, hand casually near his dagger. ‘They didny seem happy. Is it another body?’

‘No this time,’ Gil answered. ‘I dare say you’ll hear soon enough – the Chapter meeting turned to fighting, scandalous behaviour in a house o religion, and there’s three o the brethren accused by their fellows o killing the novice.’

‘Three?’ Tam whistled. ‘A conspiracy, like? Will you question them? I suppose you’ll no be wanting to persuade them,’ he said with faint regret.

‘Likely no,’ said Gil, ‘but if I do, I’ll call for you.’

In their chamber, Alys had already unfolded the linen bundle and was contemplating what it held in some dismay.

‘Look at this,’ she said in French as he entered. ‘The young man did indeed have a girl in the town. See, here is a fairing, one of those badges lovers buy, and these documents seem to concern a house and payments of money. How should he have money to give her?’

‘I hate to think.’ Gil lifted a paper she had not yet unfolded. ‘Does it locate the house? One of us could call on her.’

‘Indeed, one of us should,’ she said seriously. ‘She may not yet know of his death. The name of the dead is not at large in the town.’ She leafed through the open documents. ‘It names her here as Margaret Keithick, and there is no mention of a husband, present or late.’

‘Ah!’ said Gil, turning the sheet he held to show her. ‘Here is where the money comes from. I’d know Andrew Halyburton’s hand anywhere. Your father is right, it gets worse every time one sees it.’

‘Andrew Halyburton? The Scots factor in Middelburg? You mean the young man has been trading into the Low Countries?’

‘Yes, and to some purpose. This has been a profitable venture, whatever he sent.’

‘Clearly his fellows did not know,’ she said, ‘by what you told us at supper.’

‘Nor did the Prior.’ Gil reached for another folded paper. ‘Aye, this is the same, from six months ago. Not quite such a profit, but still well worth the venture. Halyburton is an excellent factor. He knows the market there in the Low Countries. He can turn a pretty penny for a venturer.’

‘And then there is this strange collection of oddments.’ Alys poked at them. ‘A stone with a cross painted on it, a mount from a bridle with someone’s badge on it, and this.’ She unwrapped a scrap of brocade, like the oddments a church might use to wrap its relics in. ‘See, a pilgrim badge of St James, and silver at that. Someone has been to Spain and back.’

‘Curious.’ Gil turned the bridle-mount in his hand, but failed to make out the crest in the candlelight. ‘A collection of treasures, I suppose, with meaning for Andrew if for nobody else.’ He smoothed the document on his knee and looked at Alys. ‘I think we keep all this to ourselves meantime. The Prior will have to know of it eventually, but for now it may give us an advantage over someone.’

She nodded, and lifted the remaining folded paper. It seemed to be a smaller sheet than the others; she opened it out carefully, and stared at it.

‘
Ah, mon Dieu!
’ she said. ‘Look at this, Gil.’

A drawing showed faint in the candlelight. A woman, modestly dressed, her head bent tenderly over the infant on her lap, another child by her knee.

‘The Virgin and Child with St John?’ Gil offered. ‘We know Andrew had a great devotion.’

She frowned.

‘I wonder. There is far more than six months between these children, more like three years, I should say, and the drawing has been kept hidden, although such a subject could be displayed without discredit. Could this be his mistress?’

‘With two children? He started young, in that case. I suppose he was twenty-two or three.’

‘Perhaps they are not his.’ She was studying the faces. ‘We never saw him, of course.’ Gil repressed the thought of the sight of Andrew Rattray as he came out of the ashes of the infirmary, and leaned over to see the image better. ‘This looks like a real woman,’ she went on, ‘rather than an ideal. Her hands are not perfect. See how short this little finger is?’

‘Many limners prefer to use models, rather than draw from imagination,’ he observed.

‘Yes, but they would draw Our Lady perfect.’ She began folding the papers. ‘We should visit the man of law who acted in this as well, I think.’

‘So Andrew was breaking the Rule, by keeping a mistress, by trading on his own account without turning the money over to the Order, though how he managed any of that as a novice, confined to the house, is beyond me. But is all this sufficient reason for anyone to kill him?’ Gil added the papers he had looked at to the bundle.