Pat McIntosh - The Counterfeit Madam

The rain had stopped. Emerging blinking into the afternoon sun, Alys considered the length of the shadows and thought about what to do next.

‘Who else have we to question?’ Jennet asked at her elbow. ‘Is this what Maister Gil does all day and all? I’d like fine to get my living like that, just talking to folk. Only maybe no in a cell, the next one, mem?’

‘Not in a cell, no,’ said Alys. ‘We will go up the hill again and call on Lady Magdalen Boyd. I should have offered sympathy before now.’

She set a brisk enough pace up the High Street to silence Jennet, which gave her space to think. The death of Dame Isabella made little sense in any way, and the random inclusion of the counterfeit coins seemed to make even less sense. Finding the man, or men, who had spoken to Dame Isabella at her window might be the next step, but how do we do that? she wondered. Is there anyone on the Drygate who might have seen them? Who dwells opposite? Has Gil spoken to the neighbours? Where was Forveleth between speaking to Nanty Bothwell by the Tolbooth and escaping from Clerk’s Land? And where have the men gone to? Alan and Nicol, and the third one, what was his name?

‘Who was that, mem?’ asked Jennet. Alys paused and looked about her. They were near the top of the High Street, within sight of the high pink sandstone walls of the Castle, with smaller cottages on either side. A few people were moving about, and some of the boys from the grammar school on Rottenrow were just starting a battle with their book-bags for possession of the Girth Cross. She could see nobody she knew.

‘Who?’ she asked.

‘Was a man that looked as if he kent your face,’ said Jennet, staring at one of the low houses. ‘He dodged down the path yonder, atween that house and the next. Tall fellow wi a padded jack.’

‘Was he wearing a badge?’ She could think of nobody she knew who wore a padded jack about the burgh.

‘None that I saw. No, he’s away, I canny see him. Just it was odd the way he went off, as if he’d avoid us.’

‘Maybe you imagined it,’ said Alys, and walked on.

Magdalen Boyd was not what she had expected. Gil’s rather sparse description had conjured up a pale, chilly, spiritless creature, but she was greeted with warmth and her promise to pray for Dame Isabella was met with genuine gratitude.

‘And you’ve come all the way up here just to tell me that?’ marvelled Lady Magdalen. ‘That’s right kind in you, madam. Come away up and be seated in my chamber,’ she offered, ‘we’ll have a cup of ale and talk a wee while. Maybe you can tell me where your man’s at wi this business? He was here earlier, but he’d only questions, no information.’

‘It’s always like that at the beginning,’ Alys said, following her up a wheel stair into a light bedchamber. ‘If we’re kin by marriage, may we not name names between us?’

‘I’d like nothing better. But Alys,’ she waved her to a seat by the window, beyond a box bed with hangings of worn verdure tapestry, ‘has my kinsman learned nothing, wi all his questions?’

‘He asks questions,’ Alys said, ‘till he has all the answers. Then he fits the answers together, and that’s when he’s sure of who is the criminal.’

‘Criminal,’ repeated Lady Magdalen sadly. She drew up another backstool and sat down. ‘Aye, I’d like best to see whoever killed my godmother given time to repent, and amend his life, but I suppose the law must be involved.’

‘That is truly forbearing,’ said Alys.

‘Vengeance is to the Lord,’ said Lady Magdalen, ‘we must give place to wrath. So Maister Gil is still asking questions? How long does it take?’

‘Until it’s finished.’

A servant entered with ale and small cakes on a tray, and they paused to deal with this. When the man withdrew Lady Magdalen said,

‘Alys, I’m right glad you’re here, for I wished to say something to you.’ She hesitated, then went on, ‘I’ll not speak ill of anyone, but it was others made the decision. I wouldny ha tried to conceal what we were offering to, to the bairn you care for. It’s maybe no a gift you’d want to accept, now you ken who the tenant is.’

‘I’m more concerned wi the tenants of the other toft,’ Alys admitted. ‘But tenants move on, Magdalen, you ken that, and the value of the land remains. Does the offer still stand, even though Dame Isabella is dead?’

‘It was nothing to do wi her,’ said Lady Magdalen in her gentle voice. ‘It’s my offer, wi my husband’s consent, and it still stands.’

‘I’m not certain of this, you’ll appreciate,’ said Alys, and the other woman nodded, ‘but I think my father and my husband are minded to accept it on the boy’s behalf. They’ll speak to you in good time, I’m sure of that.’

‘We’ll drink to a thanksome outcome o that,’ said Lady Magdalen, and they raised their beakers. ‘And then there’s the matter of your good-sister’s gift.’

‘So there is,’ said Alys, who had not forgotten this. ‘I wonder what will happen about that now?’

‘I hope my godmother made a will,’ admitted Lady Magdalen. ‘She’d planned that Lady Isobel would have the land out by Carluke, and I’d as soon see that happen, for I’d not wish to lose the land in Strathblane that she promised me. John sets great store by it and what wi the confusion over which piece was mine already he’s right owerset wi the matter.’

‘I expect he is,’ said Alys with sympathy, wondering just how the newly tamed Sempill would express this. A snatch of an alchemical treatise rose in her mind: Take a red man and a whyet woman and wede them together, and let them go to chambour . What sort of philosophers’ stone would these two beget? Had it already come into being, and begun to transmute Sempill? ‘Land is important, after all.’

‘Oh, aye, and this piece seems to have a great attraction for John. Indeed he’s away out there the now, him and his cousin, they rode out afore dinner. It brought John and my godmother together,’ she said, smiling sadly, ‘they were aye discussing what must be done wi one tenant or another.’

That did not make sense, Alys thought, though she kept her face sympathetic. Tenants had names, and so did their holdings; surely Dame Isabella must have been aware that they were talking of different parcels of land. Unless she nourished the confusion on purpose?

‘Did you know your godmother well?’ she asked. ‘I only met her the once. I thought she was a,’ she hesitated, seeking for the right word in Scots, ‘a lady of very strong mind, and very concerned for you and my good-sister.’

Lady Magdalen bent her head, dabbing at her eyes, and agreed.

‘She was aye concerned for those she felt needed her help,’ she said. ‘Lady Tib, and me, and Lowrie, she’d a plan in her head for Lowrie though the Livingstones disagreed, to get Maister Gil to take him on as assistant and train him up as notary.’ She bit her lip and half laughed. ‘There, I meant no to repeat that, I’m all tapsalteerie the day, Alys.’

‘I don’t think Gil needs an assistant,’ said Alys in some annoyance. ‘And he’s well able to choose his own when he does.’

‘There was to be a sum o money to help. I’ve made you cross, I’m right sorry.’ She sighed. ‘I never knew her till after my mother died, my brother wrote to tell her of it, seeing they’d been good friends at one time, and next thing we kent she’d arrived at the gate wi a match for me all ready, and after that she was aye there wi advice when she thought I needed it, though her and William never got on after we were wedded. My first man,’ she elucidated, ‘he was a Chalmers. Chalmers of Glenouthock.’ She sighed again. ‘It seemed a right good match, but — anyway, after my godmother and me were both widows she would have me come and stay wi her, seeing my brother was away about his own dealings, and she took right care of me, aye concerned for my health and my reputation. I’ll miss her sore.’