The King's Corrodian (21 page)

‘He was asleep in the little chamber where he was confined, at the end of the building,’ said Gil slowly, ‘and Father James was also asleep in another chamber nearer the door. Someone crept in without waking the old man, which seems to have been no sort of a problem, but also without waking Rattray, I suppose, and cut the lad’s throat, then set a fire and left.’

‘I suppose he could hardly waken the old fellow,’ said Tam. ‘
Here, wake up, brother, I’ve set your infirmary alight
.’

‘Quite so,’ said Gil. ‘Then we have the Chapter of Faults which descended into a battle, and the community was silenced, and the first I’ve been able to question any of them was the day.’ Quickly he outlined what he had learned from Wilson and Raitts. ‘I tried to question White, but he gainstood me. I suspect he’s protecting someone, but the question is who? We’ve not been able to find that the lad had any enemies, nobody wi a grudge against him. Why kill him?’

‘Maybe he kent something?’ Dandy suggested.

‘Maybe the old man, the Infirmarer, had an apoplexy and cut the boy’s throat and then forgot he’d done it,’ Tam said.

‘There’s no chance he cut his own throat?’ asked Nory, breaking a long silence.

‘Unlikely, I’d say,’ said Gil. ‘He was laid in his bed, and for all the changes to the body from the fire, it seemed as if he’d been lying quietly afore it – afore it happened. There was no sign o a razor or knife or the like anywhere near him, either.’

‘Brother Augustine’s knife has still not been seen,’ Alys said.

‘If it’s like killing a pig,’ said Nory thoughtfully, ‘there’d be a deal o blood. They’re all in they bonnie white habits, a wheelamageerie colour for a muddy country like Scotland, and none o them that I’ve seen’s ower blood.’

‘The trick is to strip yoursel first,’ said Euan. ‘Likely he would be leaving his habit by the door, and putting it back on when he was done.’

‘And therefore,’ said Alys, leaning forward, ‘he barred the infirmary door, not wishing to be interrupted in his body-linen.’

‘That would fit,’ Gil agreed. ‘Boyd said he had never known Father James bar the door. That would fit well.’

‘That’s the how,’ said Dandy. ‘But who was it?’

‘Whoever Father Henry was talking to?’ said Alys, and answered herself, ‘No.’

‘No,’ Gil agreed. ‘
Thys may ryme well but it acorde nought
. If Wilson had just found the infirmary barred, and then saw White talking to someone, and some time later the infirmary went up in flames, there must ha been at least two people. Other than White,’ he added scrupulously. Euan frowned over this, but after a moment Dandy nodded.

‘But if it’s a matter of confession,’ said Alys, ‘if he’s protecting someone who had confessed to him, I mean, I suppose we have to guess who it might have been and confront that one direct. I wonder what they really discussed?’

‘Anything other than what either Wilson or Raitts claims to have heard, I suspect,’ Gil said. ‘I’d not trust either man’s account. Well, we can do nothing until Prior Boyd releases the community from its silence. I wish he had weighed up the drawbacks afore he imposed it. There must ha been another penance would have done as well.’

‘We could make them all strip to their linen,’ said Nory, still thinking deeply. ‘There’s likely bloodstains in the inside o his habit, no to mention his shirt.’

‘They wear shirts?’ said Jennet. ‘Och, I suppose they must, they’d freeze to death otherwise, never mind the wool chafing at their skins.’

‘That’s for the morn,’ said Gil. ‘Nory, you find out what happens about their wash and see if there’s been any bloody sarks sent down. I wish we’d thought o that sooner, there’s no knowing when the laundrywomen will come. Dandy, you did well the day, see if you can get any more the same way. Euan.’ He looked at the Erscheman, who gazed innocently back at him. ‘I’ll maybe want you to attend me, but if no, you can talk some more wi Brother Euan. See if you can find out where more o the brothers are from, what kind o family, are they country folk or townsmen.’

‘Och, yes indeed, I can be doing that,’ said Euan cheerfully.

‘Maister Gil,’ said Tam, craning to see past Dandy, ‘is that someone in the yard? There’s lights out there.’

Gil turned to look at the narrow windows. The lower portions were firmly shuttered, but the glazed upper sections showed dim lights moving, and now there were voices calling. Away through the high hall someone hammered on the outer door with a sound like thunder.

‘What’s amiss?’ he wondered, getting to his feet and lifting one of the candles. Tam followed him out into the hall, where they met a liveried manservant stumbling in out of the night, another behind him. Horses trampled, lanterns bobbed, and a harsh familiar voice sounded from the yard.

‘And don’t take no for an answer, Thomas! Go on, ask them!’

‘Oh, it’s you, maister,’ said the man in front, and swung his bonnet in a servant’s bow. ‘It’s my mistress outside, looking for the Prior.’

‘You’ve found the guest hall,’ Gil said. ‘Come in out the cold a moment. You’d need to knock at the gate to the slype, and whether any will hear you’s a good question. Did the porter no—’

‘My mistress wouldny wait for the porter to come back,’ said Thomas without expression.

‘Thomas!’

‘I’ll come out,’ said Gil. ‘Wait till I get my plaid.’

The rain had stopped, but a bitter wind blew between the buildings. Mistress Trabboch sat on her horse in the midst of the yard, glaring about her by the light of two lanterns. Gil approached her stirrup, and she scowled at him and said, ‘You’re no the Prior. Where is he? He’s got my man here, I want to talk to him.’

‘This is the guest hall, mistress,’ said Gil. ‘Will you step in and wait in the warm till the porter comes back?’

‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘I’ll wait here. He’ll no slip past me and out the gates afore I set my hand on him.’ It was not clear whether she meant the Prior or her husband.

‘The friars have sung Compline,’ Gil observed, ‘and are likely all abed by now. It may be a while.’

‘I’ll wait.’ She drew her furred cloak closer against the biting wind. The other horses in the yard fidgeted. ‘Thomas, can you no hold they beasts quiet?’

‘Have you come far?’ Gil asked politely. ‘It’s bitter season for travelling.’

‘None o your mind,’ she retorted. ‘But you can tell me, if you’ve been here any length o time, is there a friar here by the name o Alexander Stair?’

‘None that I’ve met, mistress,’ said Gil. She grunted in what might not have been disbelief. ‘Your husband?’

‘Aye.’

‘When did he leave you?’

‘I’ll talk wi the Prior,’ she said curtly. Gil took a step backwards out of the light, and a dark form emerged from the slype and appeared as a lay brother, hurrying towards them across the courtyard.

‘Mistress?’ he said. ‘The Prior’s retired for the night, but he’s just rising. He’ll be wi you in a short time. Maister!’ He had caught sight of Gil. ‘I’m to ask if you’d be present.’

‘You will not,’ said Mistress Trabboch. ‘The idea! This is a private matter, no for discussing afore the marketplace.’

‘Prior Boyd may wish me present as his man of law,’ said Gil.

This was indeed the case. Boyd, blinking in the light of a branch of candles held by young Brother Martin, was polite but very firm.

‘I’ve no idea what you want, mistress,’ he said, ‘or why it canny wait till the morn, but I will have Maister Cunningham present while we discuss it.’

‘Hah!’ she said, and after a moment, ‘I suppose a witness. Eppie, get down.’ She swung her leg over the pommel, paused to disengage the wide skirts of her riding-dress, and slid to the ground, ignoring Gil’s hand. Her maidservant materialised out of the shadows and straightened the heavy folds of cloth. ‘Where do we meet?’

‘The guest hall is warm and light.’ The Prior nodded to Brother Martin to light the way. Mistress Trabboch, ignoring his arm as she had Gil’s, stalked into the hall behind the young man. In the light she was as tall as Gil, probably broader in the shoulder, with a jaw like a nutcracker. She sat down on the nearest bench.

‘Put those lights there,’ she directed, ‘and you sit there where I can see your face. As for you, I’ve no use for men o law. If you’re staying you can keep out my sight.’

Gil, ignoring this, set a stool for the Prior with all the courtesy of which he was capable, nodded to Tam, who had appeared again out of the shadows, saw Brother Martin and Mistress Trabboch’s maid suitably disposed, and sat down himself at the Prior’s elbow.

‘Thank you, Gilbert,’ said the Prior quietly. ‘Now, madam, what is this about? What brings you to our door at this unseasonable hour?’

‘You’ve a man here by name o Alexander Stair,’ she said, without preamble. ‘Which is my husband, that deserted me five year since, leaving me the speak o Ayrshire and my whole lands to manage mysel. A man o medium height, wi grey een and dark brown hair, legs like windlestraes, sees a boggart ahint every bush. I want him back.’

‘We have no man by that name here,’ said Boyd, ‘whether as friar or lay brother, nor have we ever had that I ken.’

‘Don’t tell me that,’ she said. ‘He was seen here in Perth, in a monk’s habit, no three month since, and I’ve spoke to every one o the houses o religion round the burgh, and they’ve denied me. This is the last, so here’s where he must be.’

‘I assure you, mistress,’ began Boyd.

‘I want him back,’ she repeated.

‘Why?’ Gil asked. She paused, staring at him with her mouth open. Beyond her he saw the maidservant put up a hand to cover her eyes. ‘If he’s deserted you, and left you wi your own lands, why do you want him back?’

‘Because he’s my husband. You’re no wedded yoursel, I take it,’ she said scathingly. ‘I wedded him for consolation and companionship in life and I’ve had none o that in five year. He’ll come back and supply it, or I’ll see him hang for it.’

‘Desertion’s no a hanging offence yet, mistress,’ Gil said. ‘Can I ask, how much consolation and companionship had you o him in the years afore he left?’

Her mouth fell open again. Behind her, the maidservant’s hand slid down as if to conceal a grin. Tam was also grinning, and gesturing graphically; Gil ignored him.

‘That’s no to the point,’ said Mistress Trabboch, recovering. ‘The point is, you’re concealing my man here, that’s a married man and no to take religion without my consent, which I will never gie him, let me tell you, and I want him back.’

‘And I tell you, madam, we are concealing no such person,’ said the Prior.

‘Why did he leave you?’ Gil asked. Though I can guess, he thought.

‘No reason at all,’ she averred. ‘I’ve been a good and faithful wife to him all the years we’ve been wed, put up wi all his nonsense and his dreaming and studying and that, never said a word about all his papers, and what’s my reward for it? He runs off, only for cause that I sellt a few o his books, and never a trace o him till Isabella Newton seen him in the town here, and it would ha been more help if she’d kent what habit he was wearing.’

‘How can I convince you?’ said the Prior rather helplessly. ‘I’ll not rouse my brothers at this time o night. We have to say Matins in a few hours and—’ He stopped. ‘If I show you a list o the men present at the moment, will that convince you?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘for I canny read. There could be the King himsel on a paper and I wouldny ken.’

‘What if I read the list out to you?’ Gil suggested. ‘You can look over my shoulder to make sure I don’t skip any o the names.’

‘Aye, I suppose,’ she said grudgingly after a moment’s thought.

Brother Martin was sent to fetch the great book out of the press in the Prior’s chamber. While he was absent Mistress Trabboch stared about the hall, looking at the high carved windows which disappeared into the shadowed roof, the elaborate chimneypiece, the fine proportions of the place.

‘You do yourselves well,’ she remarked sourly. ‘Take a deal o alms and legacies to pay for this lot.’

‘This is the royal lodgings,’ said Prior Boyd repressively. ‘It was built for the first Jameses, so it’s little wonder it’s a fine building.’

‘Hah!’ she said in that tone of disbelief. Gil felt it was fortunate that Brother Martin appeared at this point, clutching a lantern and a substantial leather-bound book.

‘Find me the list we made for the Provincial Chapter,’ said the Prior. The young man sat down and picked his way through the heavy pages, tilting them towards the light, until he came on a list of names, written slantwise down the page in a shaky, elderly hand. Prior Boyd glanced at it, and closed his eyes briefly.

‘I’d forgot, it was Brother James writ it for me,’ he said. ‘There, Gilbert. Take and read that page for the lady. It’s a true copy o the record we took to Edinburgh last autumn, madam, wi all the lay brethren and the servants and all.’

‘We’ll hear all o’t,’ she said in that sour tone. ‘You’ll no conceal him from me disguised as a kitchen-man.’

Gil took the book, tilted it to the light as Brother Martin had done, and began at the top of the page in Scots.

Yhe talye o yhe freres dominican att Perht, 7 day octobre 1494. Dauvit boyd, priorus. robt Park, subpriorus, jhon blyhte lector principalis, henricus whyt, the samyn
.

He worked his way down the page, pointing at each name as he read it so that the angry presence at his shoulder could see that none was omitted, down to the list of the lay servants and associate tradesmen.

‘Hah!’ she said in disgust as he finished. ‘I’ll find him yet. Thomas, where are you, you dolt? Get the horses. Eppie!’

She swept out, without a further word, her servants hastening after her, leaving Gil and his kinsman to look in amazement at one another.

‘Well!
Whanne she was gone the kynge was glad for she made suche a noyse
,’ Gil quoted after a moment.

‘You may well say it,’ said Boyd. ‘I’ll admit, if I had her man here I’d be tempted to conceal him. What a targin scauld! May Our Lady lesson her in humility,’ he added dutifully, and crossed himself.

‘I encountered her in the town earlier,’ Gil said. ‘That’s an Ayrshire name, and so’s her husband’s. I wonder if that’s where she’s from?’

‘Well, she’s no from hereabout,’ said Boyd, ‘nor I never encountered her when I was in Ayrshire, Our Lady be thankit for both.’ He rose, stretching his back, and pulled his black cloak closer about him. ‘Martin, wake up. You’ll get a couple hours afore Matins if you get back to your bed the now.’