Pat McIntosh - The Fourth Crow

Gil thought the departing Craigie flinched at this.

‘Well, Cunningham,’ continued the Provost as the door banged shut behind prisoner and escort. ‘What d’you make o that? I’d say you could accompany the King’s Grace to the Isles again wi a light heart.’

‘I’m less certain. Craigie’s lied to me, more than once, but he was quite determined the now he was innocent o the verger’s death.’

‘Well, we’ll get more out him in the morning when the fire’s hot for the pilliwinks. I’m for my bed. It’s been a long day. I hope I’ll see you betimes, maister, there’s the quest on Dame Ellen and the verger and I’ll need your evidence, even wi a signed confession for the woman. I’m no risking another sic verdict as I had for the hoor.’

‘No, I agree,’ said Alys, curling warm and relaxed into the crook of Gil’s arm. ‘It sounds as if there is at least some doubt.’

He rubbed his cheek on the crown of her head, and stretched out his legs between the rumpled linen sheets. It was extraordinarily good to have some time alone with his wife, and she seemed to feel the same, to judge by the way she had responded when he had slipped into bed beside her.

‘It would be very tidy,’ he said regretfully, ‘but while he denies it so firmly we must at least consider if there is another solution.’

‘Who stood to benefit from the verger’s death?’ She was twirling her fingers in the hairs on his chest. ‘We assumed his partner in the thefts had killed him to prevent some accusation being made. Could the man have set off to accuse someone else, who then killed him? Or could someone have killed him to protect Craigie?’

‘Craigie lacks powerful friends,’ said Gil. ‘That’s half his trouble.’

‘And the girl at the Cross.’ Her hand stilled, flat against his breastbone. ‘Whoever did that to her thought he was killing Annie Gibb. Who would have benefited from Annie’s death? What happens to her property at her death?’

‘Likely it would have reverted to the various families,’ said Gil, ‘with fat pickings for any men of law who get involved. It’s always a problem when there’s no will.’

‘What about the property with the quarry? Was that hers outright, or was it a life interest?’

‘A life interest, I think, and then I suspect reverts to her father’s family.’ Gil was trying to recall the documents he had seen. ‘Why does one never take enough notes the first time?’

‘So the Shaws would not get it. But they would get back all the lands she had from her marriage, I suppose, since there are no — no children. Could Sir Edward have ordered her killed? His daughters would benefit.’

‘He seems truly fond of her,’ said Gil. ‘Besides, why go to this trouble and expense, not to mention the pain of the journey, when he could have ordered her killed in his own house and concealed the whole matter?’

‘Lockhart?’

‘He wasn’t out of the hostel. That’s the other thing. If whoever throttled Peg was connected with Annie’s family, he must have come out of the hostel, and the doctor told us he made certain the men were all asleep.’

‘And it was hardly Doctor Januar who did that,’ she said slowly, ‘since he knew well the girl was dead already. And then there is the door to consider. The door that went three times. Why three? Did two leave together and come back separately, or what?’

‘Ah, no,’ he said. ‘The door has been greased. It shuts quietly now. The hostel servants know nothing about it, it’s none of their doing. I suspect it was greased between the time the doctor left the hostel and the time he returned. It smells like mutton fat, and Bessie said they had mutton that night, and not since.’

‘Oh!’ she said. ‘So anyone could have gone out and back again, at any time in the night after that, except that they were all asleep in the men’s hall, and Dame Ellen was adamant nobody stirred out of the women’s hall. What a conundrum it is. Could it have been someone else entirely? Annie’s father’s kindred?’

‘Which is wide, by what I recall.’ Gil grimaced into the darkness of their curtained bed. ‘We need to ask more questions in the morning. I must get out to the hostel betimes, before the quest.’

‘I will come with you.’ She curled closer, and he rolled over to embrace her again, relishing the silky feel of her skin against his. All of plesur she is wrout, he thought. Her hand stirred across his chest, and halted again. ‘Gil,’ she began, and stopped.

‘What is it?’ he asked after a moment.

‘Yesterday,’ she said in a small voice, and then, ‘I should not tell you.’

‘Is it about Ealasaidh?’ he prompted, after another moment. She drew a tiny breath. ‘Jennet told me what she heard.’

‘You know.’

‘I know.’ He drew her into a tight clasp. ‘I’m here, sweetheart. We are together. We can weather this.’

She buried her face in his shoulder, and he felt her tears hot on his skin.

‘I know,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘But oh, it is hard.’

The Castle courtyard was thronged and noisy with the Archbishop’s servants, making preparations for the arrival of King and court. The morning was sunny, with a brisk wind which added to the movement of the scene, snatching at plaids and gowns, sending litter whirling in corners. Otterburn, glumly surveying the bustle from the steps of his lodging, nodded to Gil as he approached, and raised his red felt hat to Alys.

‘Good day, mistress. I hear we’ve you to thank for finding the missing heiress.’ Alys curtsied acknowledgement of this. ‘I should take you on the strength, you’re worth any four o Andro’s lot. All I need now is to learn who killed the verger, and we’re done.’

‘What time is the quest?’ Gil asked. ‘Have I time to question the Muirs, and maybe Craigie and all?’

‘My lord’s dealing wi Craigie right now.’ Otterburn glanced at the sky. ‘It’s called for after Sext, you’ve an hour or two. I’ll ask you to go down to the cells, it’s ower busy above stairs here.’

Austin Muir was in a poor state for questioning. Dragged out of his cell with his chains clanking, he fell to his knees in the passageway saying,

‘Did he lift the curse, Maister Cunningham? Will you tell him to lift the curse? I’m no wanting snuffed out like the candle!’

‘If you confessed,’ said Gil, and took a step back as the manacled hands snatched at his gown. ‘As the Archbishop said last night, if you’ve confessed and repented, you’ll no be snuffed out, though you may hang for what you did.’

‘I had to do it!’ The man was snivelling. ‘She kept on at Henry, I’ll no let her flyte at Henry like that, I had to stop her.’

‘What was she on at Henry about? What was she saying to him?’

‘All sorts, she was saying, and none o it true. About he killed the lassie from the tavern and put her at the Cross, and where had he put Annie Gibb, and the like. None o it true, we was never near the Cross in the night. You’ll no let them snuff me out, maister, surely?’ The hands came up again, imploringly.

‘D’you want him taken into the light, Maister Cunningham?’ asked Andro, hauling the reluctant Austin to his feet. ‘There’s more light in the guardroom, and a table forbye. Come on, you. Gie’s a hand, Richie, he’s no for moving.’

More light did not improve the prisoner’s appearance. He had a black eye and a badly grazed jaw, and his velvet gown had suffered in the struggle to arrest him as well as in the cell overnight, with loops of braid hanging loose between the greenish patches of slime from the damp stonework. He crouched between the two men-at-arms, shivering, and said pleadingly,

‘I’m no wanting to be accursit, nor any o those things. You’ll tell them, maister, won’t you?’