Pat McIntosh - The Counterfeit Madam

‘Yesterday,’ he murmured. ‘Early. Aye, here it is, Maister Cunningham. Root ginger, cloves, flowers of sulphur, a bottle of the restorative for the hair, senna-pods, rhubarb, and a wee box of the anise laxative. Suffered badly wi her belly, the poor lady.’ Gil forbore to comment. ‘Fourpence, another fourpence, two pence for the ginger and again for the cloves, the bottle, the other matters, that came to three shillings and a penny, and the lad handed it to me in silver-’ He gazed briefly out of the window. ‘Aye, he was alone. Taller than me, near your height I’d say, well-set-up fellow wi brown hair, big ears, very civil.’

‘Alan,’ said Lowrie confidently. Gil nodded. It certainly did not sound like Attie.

‘And no sign of the other man, maybe waiting outside?’ he prompted.

‘Not that I saw.’

‘Have you checked the coin the lad gave you?’

‘Checked it?’ Syme stared at him, then looked at the pyne-pig on the shelf beside the ledger. ‘No — no, I–I never thought. We’ve no much trouble wi false coin here, Nanty has more down by the Tolbooth, one or two a day he gets or so he says.’

Only one of the handful of silver threepenny pieces in the tin box was false. Syme looked at it, biting his lip.

‘There was more,’ he said. ‘Like I said, maister, the lad gave me three shillings in silver. Three groats,’ he poked through the thin coins, which slid away from his finger, ‘and eight threepennies, and two ha’pennies. I hope we’ve no given out false coin in change. I’ve a reputation to consider.’ He caught up the counterfeit and held it out to Gil. ‘Maister, I’m assuming you’re looking into the business, since you’ve asked me about it, or at least that you can gie this to the Provost. I’d as soon it was out of my hands.’

‘I’ll pass it to the Provost,’ Gil said resignedly.

‘There was an odd thing, though,’ Syme went on, fastening the box down. ‘Yestreen, when we’d a gathering, the three apothecary houses in the burgh, as we do, we were speaking o this. Aye, I’d best let you hear what Nanty had to say.’

‘She wanted to tell you herself,’ Kate said, ‘and it’s a day or two since I saw you, I thought this was the best way.’ She peered across the window space at Gil. ‘Are you well? There’s all sorts o tales about the town.’

‘Oh, is that it?’ Gil grinned at his favourite sister.

They were in the hall of the house at Morison’s Yard, where Kate’s husband Augie Morison ran his business, a few doors down the High Street from Maistre Pierre’s dwelling. Kate herself spent a lot of time in this big, light window-bay, seated in her carved wooden chair with her crutches propped close at hand.

They had already discussed the health and amazing development of Kate’s baby son, godson to Gil and Alys, who it seemed was asleep upstairs. Now Gil set his beaker of ale down on the tray beside him and sat back, leaning against the pale oak panelling. ‘You want the tale from the horse’s mouth? You should ask at Lowrie here, he rescued me out of the place.’

‘The bawdy-house? I thought you were well in charge, maister,’ offered Lowrie, palming another of Ursel’s little cakes. ‘Sending out for your clothes and all.’

‘No, Alys came by this morning to see Edward and tellt me the gist of it,’ Kate said, ‘and since she was here when Nan and the girls came back she heard their tale too and went off saying she’d send to you to look in. So what like are these paintings?’

‘No as bad as they’re reputed. Naked goddesses and the like, all very tasteful.’

‘I never saw them,’ said Lowrie regretfully. ‘The back o the house is quite plain.’

‘Magdalen Boyd wants to cover them in limewash.’

‘She would,’ said Kate. There were light hasty feet on the stair leading down into the hall, and her stepdaughters burst into the room, followed by their nurse making chiding noises about their behaviour. Both girls checked at sight of a stranger, but Kate smiled, and held out a hand. ‘Here, my lassies, come and make your curtsies.’

The older girl came obediently, smiling shyly at the guests, and curtsied as directed. The younger flung herself across the chamber, ended up at Gil’s knee, fixed him with a penetrating grey stare and said,

‘Uncle Gil, we found the man that’s making the bad pennies.’

‘I’ll tell him!’ said her sister indignantly. ‘It was me that found him!’

‘Now, lassies,’ said their nurse. ‘That’s no way to-’

‘It’s Uncle Gil,’ said the younger girl, ‘don’t have to be polite .’

‘Ysonde!’ said Kate. ‘Come here! Wynliane, go and tell your uncle what you saw.’

Wynliane, almost eight, with her father’s blue eyes and soft fair hair, came to Gil’s side, glancing doubtfully at Lowrie. Her new front teeth had come in, and she looked more like Augie than ever. Gil introduced them, and Lowrie doffed his hat, making the child blush. Her nurse said bracingly,

‘Tell Maister Gil about it, like your mammy bids you. Good day to you, maister,’ she added. ‘I hope you’re well? We went to the market this morning, me and the lassies,’ she explained, ‘for they’ve a penny or two for spending.’ She glanced significantly at Kate, now occupied in explaining to Ysonde just why a young lady should be polite to everyone, and Gil recalled that his sister’s birthday was approaching. He nodded his understanding, and stout Nan smiled and gestured to Wynliane.

‘Me and Nan and Ysonde,’ the child agreed, ‘and we went to all the stalls, and bought Ursel a col- colandrain-’

‘Colander,’ prompted Nan, her black brows rising in amusement.

‘Yes, for the kitchen, and we bought — I bought-’

‘Something,’ Gil supplied. ‘And did you get pennies back?’

Wynliane nodded gratefully. At Kate’s side, Ysonde drew herself up, fixed her stepmother with a direct grey stare and said dramatically,

‘ Is this sothe, my moder dere? ’

Gil suppressed a grin as he recognized the quotation, and concentrated on Wynliane. ‘And one of them was a false coin, was it?’

The older girl nodded again.

‘Do you still have it?’ Nod. ‘Will you show me it?’

She held out her hand. Sticking to her palm was another of the threepenny pieces, cross side uppermost.

‘I saw it was false first!’ proclaimed Ysonde. She crossed to them in a sort of travelling curtsy, bobbed another one at Lowrie, and gabbled, ‘I ask your pardons, Maister Gil, Maister Lowrie, for my discourtesy. I saw it was false first,’ she repeated, duty done. ‘For I asked Da how he knew when it was false coins and he showed me how to look.’ She grabbed at the coin, her sister snatched it out of reach, and Nan separated the two children expertly. ‘Look, it’s easy seen. Let me show them!’

‘Let me hold the coin,’ said Gil, ‘and then you can show me. Which stall was it this came from?’

‘I’ll show you first,’ said Ysonde. She bent her curly head over Gil’s hand, pointing out the distinctions and obscuring the coin, while Wynliane in her soft voice said,

‘The man was rude.’ She bit her lip, leaning her head against Nan’s broad waist. ‘He shouted at Nan. When we told him it was false coin.’

‘And then he was in the chapel,’ supplied Ysonde. ‘And he fighted with the other man, and they knocked each other down and rugged them down in inches.’

Recognizing a line from the Hallowe’en play which had taken place here in this hall, Gil repressed a grimace. Kate said,

‘Now, Ysonde. Let Wynliane tell it to your uncle the way you both told it to me this morning.’

‘Ysonde, will you show me the coin?’ suggested Lowrie, holding his hand out. Gil passed him the slip of silver and Ysonde followed it importantly. Wynliane began to explain the tale, with help from Nan.