Pat McIntosh - The Counterfeit Madam

‘And where is your brother?’ demanded Otterburn. Neil shook his head.

‘I am not knowing that. He was in Glasgow yestreen, but-’

‘If you went down Clerk’s Land,’ Gil recommended, ‘you could ask Saunders to take you and some men to his sister’s house.’

‘Aye,’ said Andro, grinning. ‘And he’s still that grateful no to be hung for Dod Muir, he’s bound to help us.’

‘Is he?’ said Gil.

‘He will be when I’m done wi him.’ Andro grinned again, touched his helm to the Provost, and left, shouting for his men. Gil laid a hand on Neil Campbell’s shoulder as he turned to follow him.

‘Not so fast, man. I need a word.’

‘Maister Cunningham iss aye welcome to a word,’ said Neil courteously, though his eyes rolled in alarm, ‘but-’

‘Several words, in fact,’ said Gil. ‘Tell me more about the coin you’re carrying to Ardnamurchan. To Mingary, was it?’

‘Och, no, I am knowing little of that,’ protested the gallowglass. ‘All I have done is carry the stuff, I have no knowing where it is from or who makes it-’

‘So it’s not this man Miller?’ Gil suggested.

‘I would not be knowing. Just my cousin gave me the leather bag and I was taking it to McIan.’

‘And never helped yoursel from the contents?’ said Otterburn sceptically.

‘I am an honest man,’ said Neil indignantly. ‘I would not be thieving from those that employ me. Besides that, it was sealed,’ he added, ‘the sack I mean.’

‘Whose seal?’ Gil asked. He shook his head.

‘The old woman’s, I am thinking.’

‘Old woman?’ Gil repeated. ‘What old woman?’

‘Some old woman that was paying them to-’

‘Was it Dame Isabella? Isabella Torrance?’

‘Maybe.’ The man backed away from Gil, looking anxiously at the Provost. ‘It wass not Sempill’s, for certain.’

‘Sempill’s? What does he have to do with it?’

‘He had the seal,’ said Neil, as if it was obvious. ‘He was there to seal the bag, wass he not, and pay my kinsman for his work, and me and my brother for our time. Like the other morning,’ he said helpfully.

‘What other morning?’ Gil felt he was floundering, but this seemed like a support to clutch at. ‘Do you mean Thursday morning? The day Dame Isabella died?’

‘The day you wass rescued in the — yes,’ finished the gallowglass, changing his mind about what he had been about to say.

Does the entire town know I was rescued by the bawdy-house? Gil wondered. ‘What time was he there?’ he asked.

‘Och, early on, maybe about Prime. No, it was later, for I heard the bells, but it was not so late as Terce.’

‘So he was on Clerk’s Land before Terce, sealing the bag of coin,’ Gil began.

‘No, he wass not, for it wass not there to be sealed, the man Miller only came by with it after he had gone away.’

‘And then what happened?’ Gil was trying to fit the sequence of the morning together. And you said you didn’t know the man Miller, he thought.

‘Miller and my kinsman were going off to speak with the old woman.’

‘Why?’ asked Otterburn. ‘Was that usual? No, it couldny be, she didny dwell here in Glasgow. Why did they want to speak wi her?’

‘I would not be knowing,’ said Neil politely. ‘But maybe it wass because of what Sempill of Muirend was saying.’

‘Christ aid, it’s like drawing teeth!’ said Otterburn. ‘So what was Sempill saying, and who did he say it to?’

‘Oh, I wass not listening,’ declared the gallowglass. ‘He wass not talking to me, you understand, so it wass not right to be listening.’

‘Neil,’ said Gil levelly, ‘tell me what he said.’

The gallowglass gave him a reproachful look.

‘Only that there was to be no more silver,’ he said. ‘He was in a great rage, I thought, and the whole of the Drygate likely heard him, but that was all he was saying. No more silver, and no more coin.’

‘No more siller,’ the Provost repeated. ‘And where was there to be no more siller from?’

Neil shrugged his broad shoulders.

‘He was never saying that.’

‘Did your kinsman argue with him?’ Gil asked.

‘Who argues with Sempill of Muirend?’

True, Gil thought.

‘And then your kinsman told the man Miller,’ said Otterburn, thinking about it, ‘and the two o them went away down the Drygate to speak to Isabella Torrance. To complain to her? To clype on Sempill?’

‘To kill her?’ Gil supplied. Neil Campbell stepped back in alarm.

‘I have not said it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have no idea who was killing her! They have said nothing of it when they came back to Clerk’s Land, only that she was telling how it would certainly go on, she would see more silver into Glasgow if it was to kill her…’ His voice trailed off, and he stared at Gil. ‘I think it was not them,’ he finished.

‘Hah!’ said Otterburn, rubbing his hands together. ‘Looks as if we’ll sort that killing as well as Dod Muir’s if we take the man Miller, Maister Cunningham.’

‘Maybe,’ said Gil.

It was nearly an hour before Andro returned, with the three missing serving-men. There had clearly been some dissent about whether they accompanied the Provost’s men or not; two had puffy eyes, one was dabbing at a split lip, and all three were covered in the mud of the Stablegreen. Andro’s men were hardly unblemished either; the Provost, surveying them, said drily,

‘Well, well, we’ll ha some repairs to put on the bill, I can see. Right, you three.’ He stared at the row of men. ‘It’ll likely save time if I tell you what we ken already. You left your mistress’s house when you kent she was dead by violence, along wi the woman,’ he turned his tablets to read the name, ‘Forveleth nic Iain nic Muirteach. She went to hand a package back to the potyngar, while you three went by the back lane to Clerk’s Land and there burnt your livery,’ all three men gaped at him and two crossed themselves, ‘and then I think you went to the place where my men just found ye. No?’

They looked at one another in dismay. Gil, seated by the window, identified the two who were brothers, dark of hair like the gallowglass. They must be Nicol and Alan, he thought, and the third was called Billy, a short, round-headed man with a ginger beard.

‘Aye,’ said Billy now. ‘Small point in denying it, maister. What,’ he swallowed, ‘what d’ye want of us now?’

‘Ye’ll have heard,’ said Otterburn, ‘the quest on yir mistress brought in a verdict o murder.’ His tone was pleasant, so pleasant that the men took a moment to realize their danger. ‘So what can you three tell me o that?’

‘Persons unknown,’ said Billy nervously. ‘We’re no, no what ye’d say unknown, maister, ye can see us clear in front o ye.’

‘Aye,’ said Otterburn in that pleasant tone.

‘She was slain while we were out about her errands,’ said one of the other two. ‘We cam back all about the same time, and waited in the outer chamber, see, and then Annot cam out screeching that the old dame was, was-’

‘I still think it was an apoplexy,’ muttered his brother.

‘So where did you go?’ Gil asked. ‘It was Alan went to the potyngary, I think, Maister Syme gave me a good description.’ One of the brothers looked even more dismayed by this. ‘Where did Nicol and Billy get to?’

‘To the Campbells,’ said Billy promptly.

‘And?’ Gil encouraged. Billy and the remaining man eyed each other sideways, and Gil said, ‘Now I ken fine you went your separate ways. What I want to know is what those ways were.’

The two exchanged another glance, and Billy said reluctantly,

‘I gaed to Clerk’s Land. To ask about that pair o Camp-bells. Euan or Neil or whatever they’re cried. And then I waited on Nicol meeting me,’ he admitted when Gil prompted him further.