Pat McIntosh - The Counterfeit Madam

‘She’ll be wi us a day or two yet,’ the Serjeant had said, ‘I’m no wanting her to fade away afore she can be tried. Shout when you’re done, mistress. Oh, and you can tell your man,’ he added, ‘I’ve had no word o the other servants yet, but we’ll track them down, never fear.’

‘When you left the house on the Drygate,’ she said now, as Forveleth broke off a piece of the pasty, ‘where did the men go?’

‘Men?’

‘No, we’ll not play games.’ Alys sat down on the narrow plank bed, hoping her gown would not suffer too much. ‘Listen, Forveleth, the Serjeant reckons you are guilty in Dame Isabella’s death.’

‘So he is telling me. He would have me sign a paper about it, but I told him, no, I will sign nothing.’

‘Aye, very wise,’ put in Jennet from her post by the door. She was clearly dismayed by the condition of both the cell and its occupant, holding her skirts up away from the dirty straw on the floor and casting sympathetic glances at Forveleth’s bruises, which showed up even in the dim light. ‘Put your mark on nothing, that’s the way.’

‘So if you will tell me the truth,’ persisted Alys, ‘it will help you.’

‘Will it?’ Forveleth chewed cautiously, as if her mouth hurt.

‘You went out by the back gate,’ Alys said, ‘and along the path by the mill-burn. Two of the men were with you, I think Alan and Nicol. They are brothers, am I right?’

‘Yes, brothers, those two.’ The woman peered at Alys, then down at the pasty. ‘What did I do then? I’d maybe not remember,’ she said, and broke off another fragment.

‘You argued, on the path,’ said Alys. Forveleth looked up sharply, and made the horns against the evil eye. ‘One of them, Alan I think, gave you the package from the potyngar, that he still had on him, and told you to take it back.’

‘Aye, and the surly grollop wouldny — How do you know all this? Who’s been spying on me?’

‘What else did they want rid of? They were saying they had to be rid of something.’

‘It was someone listening. We thought there was someone listening!’

‘What was it they had to be rid of? Was it the livery? They could hardly go through the town in livery without being seen and recalled later.’

‘How would I be remembering?’

‘And then where did you go?’ Alys pressed. ‘You tried to take the package back to the potyngar, and had no fortune there. When did you go back to Clerk’s Land? Where were you in between the times?’

‘You mean you don’t know?’ Was that a note of relief? Her hand was still clenched in the ancient sign of protection.

‘Why Clerk’s Land, anyway? Is one of them your kin? Which is it, the woman Campbell?’

‘There is no Campbells that is my kin!’ she said sharply. ‘If you must know, it is Bethag nic Donuill, that is cousin to my brother’s wife, is married on the whitesmith, more’s the pity for her and all. So it was her I went to, and they let me in, but when the laddie came running to say there was the Provost’s men at the close-mouth they were quick as the wind to push me out the door.’

‘Did Alan and Nicol not go with you to Clerk’s Land? Where are they now, Forveleth? ‘

‘She’s maybe lost them,’ said Jennet. ‘Likely they went another way. Maybe they’re not wanting her wi them.’

Forveleth looked round at that, but did not answer.

‘The purse your mistress had in her jewel-kist,’ said Alys. ‘What was it like?’

‘Blue velvet and gold braid.’ There was puzzlement in her voice now, at the change of subject.

‘What was in it, do you know? Her body-servants would know that, surely?’ Jennet stirred at the doorway, but Forveleth accepted the idea.

‘Coin, I suppose. I never looked, but Annot said she did. It felt like coin in my hand.’

‘And you gave it to her, the last you saw her alive.’

‘That iss so.’ Suddenly the accent was marked.

‘Why did she ask you for it, do you think, at such a moment? Who had she seen coming down the Drygate?’

The prisoner exclaimed in Gaelic and scrambled backwards into the corner of her cell, making the horns again with one hand, crossing herself with the other.

‘How do you know all this?’ she repeated. ‘Where was you watching me?’

‘So who was it? Why would she give money to such a person?’ Alys leaned forward, to put a hand on Forveleth’s wrist, but the woman snatched her arm away. ‘Whoever it was, they may really have been the last to see her alive. Is it someone you need to protect, or is it a stranger? Why are you letting yourself be suspected?’ There was a silence, broken by Forveleth’s panting breath. ‘My dear, Alan and Nicol were both out about your mistress’s errands. Attie can speak for Alan at least. They were elsewhere when she died.’

‘Is it Alan she fancies?’ Jennet asked.

‘Mary mild protect me,’ burst out Forveleth, ‘you know too much!’

‘So tell me the rest,’ invited Alys.

Another panting silence. Then Forveleth gave an incoherent wail and buried her face in her hands. Jennet stepped away from the door and put a hand on her shoulder, saying,

‘There, now, you tell my mistress all, she’ll help you the best she can.’

‘Who came to her window?’ Alys asked.

‘It was a man Campbell, so she said,’ admitted Forveleth eventually, raising her head. ‘She said, Here’s that Campbell coming down the street, and another wi him , and then she said, Hand me the blue purse out my kist and get out o here .’

‘Which man Campbell?’ Alys asked. ‘The one from Clerk’s Land, or the one who was to come home soon, or another?’

‘I was never seeing him. I tried to look past her, over her shoulder, to see was it Bethag’s man or another, and she struck me away. But when I went to another part of the house, to overlook her window, all I was seeing was a stranger, and the back of him at that.’

‘Where was the stranger?’ Alys asked. ‘Was he at the window?’

She shook her head.

‘Walking out at the gate, he was, as if he’d been within on an errand.’

‘What did he look like? What way did he turn from the gate?’

‘He was turning up the hill,’ said Forveleth after a moment, gesturing with her left hand. ‘I never saw him, I told you that.’ Alys waited, watching her. ‘He was tall, I suppose. Wrapped in a great gown or cloak or the like. Just a — a black figure.’ She shivered, and crossed herself. ‘Like as if it was Death himself come for the old carline.’

Jennet, mouth open in amazement, crossed herself likewise.

‘I’m no surprised you ran off!’ she declared. ‘But you’d ha been better to stay and tell your maister what you seen?’

‘What, and be taken up for theft of the blue purse?’

‘If you had stayed where you were,’ said Alys, ‘and the purse could not be found in your possession, you would have been safe enough from that charge. As it is, there’s this matter of the leather bag of coin. Do you know anything about that at all? Did you know it was all false coin?’

Forveleth shook her head in the gloom.

‘The first I ever saw of it was when they showed it me afore the Provost. What have I to do wi false coin?’

‘What had your mistress to do wi false coin?’ countered Alys. No answer. ‘How did it get into your bundle, then?’

‘If it was in my bundle,’ said Forveleth sourly. She paused to think. ‘When I–I had the package from the-’

‘The package from the apothecary,’ said Alys helpfully.

‘Aye. I had my linen and my spare kirtle rowed in my good plaid, and I put the, the package in wi them when I,’ she swallowed, ‘went back to Clerk’s Land. It was not there when I saw my things laid out afore the Provost, and the bag o coin was, so they said. Whether it was them that put it there, or some other, I canny tell.’