Pat McIntosh - A Pig of Cold Poison

Alys shuddered at the thought. There, it was back in her mind again. She drank obediently from the cup, though her teeth rattled on the rim, and tried to concentrate on what was in it. Honey, and rose water, and — Not myrrh, but something resiny. What could it be?

‘You know apothecary work?’ she asked.

‘I do. That was how Nicol and I met,’ Grace admitted.

‘That must have been a help when you came here. Another pair of hands is always an asset.’ Particularly when they don’t have to be paid, she thought.

‘Aye, when they don’t need a wage,’ agreed Grace, echoing her thought. ‘I’ve found a place here. I do the most of the stillroom work, now Eleanor has her own house to run. Frankie likes to carry a good line in stillroom wares, for them that’s too lazy or busy or unskilled to make their own.’

‘Lavender water,’ said Alys. ‘Quince lozenges.’

‘Aye, those were my quince lozenges the bairnies were handing round yesterday, that I made from a barrel of quinces we got last month. A good shipment, the most of them were fit for use.’ The other girl hesitated, and Alys recognized what was coming next. ‘That was a terrible thing that happened. Your man acted well, getting the wee lassies out of the chamber afore they knew what was going on. He’s a good man.’

‘He’s the best in the world,’ she said firmly, and smiled a little with stiff lips at the thought of Gil.

Grace laughed, but it was sympathetic. ‘My! But has he learned aught about how it happened? Was it Nanty Bothwell’s doing indeed, or — ’

‘He’s still trying to find out.’ Conversation, conversation. ‘I think Agnes has taken it badly, poor girl. To have one of your sweethearts accused of poisoning the other — ’

‘I’ve no notion how she’s taken it,’ said Grace. ‘She’s not left her chamber since we got Meg to bed, and she’ll speak to nobody.’

‘To nobody at all? I saw her earlier, arguing with her brother in the hall.’

‘Did you so? We sent food up, but she’s not eaten it, and the servant-lass that’s been her bedfellow since Eleanor wedded says she never uttered a word. Even Nell Wilkie couldny get in to speak wi her. I suppose Frankie must ha been thinking about Meg, or he’d have dragged her out by now, but as it is she’s been let alone. She must be coming round a bit.’

‘She must surely be in great distress. Maister Renfrew seems certain it was deliberate poisoning, but everyone else who knows the young man thinks it was an accident.’

‘I’ve little acquaintance wi him,’ said Grace. ‘Or his sister.’

‘She seems a good woman, and very fond of her brother.’

‘No guarantee he’s innocent.’

‘Agnes spoke to the one man yesterday, and not to the other, and it was the one she slighted that died. That was unfair.’ Where are my manners? she thought in faint puzzlement, but it seemed as if she was floating high in the air, above such considerations.

‘Did she so?’ Grace turned her head to look at her. ‘How did she manage that? Oh, when Meg would have her fetch her own herb-cushion, I suppose. So privilie caught he the prettie wench .’

‘Yes, that was it, so the mummers told us. Would she not talk to her sister just now?’

‘To Eleanor?’ Grace laughed shortly. ‘They don’t speak unless they have to.’ She met Alys’s eye, and smiled rather bitterly. ‘It’s a warlike house, this one. What is it Holy Writ says? A house divided against itself?’

‘How so? Is it some great quarrel among them? Their mother’s will, or something?’

‘Nothing so likely,’ said Grace. ‘They just don’t get on. I never believed Nicol when he tried to tell me, no till we came here to Glasgow and I saw the truth of it myself.’

Alys contemplated this idea.

‘I have no brothers or sisters,’ she admitted, ‘but Gil had seven, and I think he is good friends enough with those that live. He’s very close to two of his sisters. Does Nicol —?’

‘Nicol and Robert were at one another’s throats within an hour of our entering the house. Agnes spent that whole day flyting at him, making fun of his every word — he’s his own way of — he doesny aye …’ She paused, seeking for words.

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Alys, and suddenly found herself choking back a laugh at the thought of Nicol’s way of saying things.

‘Eleanor was easy-osy at first, but now she’s defied him to come near her, in case he afflicts her bairn. And since he’d come home without permission, Frankie wasny well pleased. There was a thundering argument over the supper, all about his inheritance, and who was or was not a partner in the business. In fact, it was only Meg that made us welcome,’ Grace recalled.

‘It must be strange to have a good-mother younger than yourself,’ observed Alys, thinking of her own mother-in-law, elegant, powerful and terrifyingly perceptive. Meg Mathieson would never be any of those, but she was still Grace’s mother-in-law. The idea was very funny. ‘Do you get on wi her?’

‘Oddly enough, we all do,’ agreed Grace. ‘She’s a sweet-natured lassie, when — ’ A quick glance at Alys’s face. ‘When she’s in her own self.’

‘Grace?’

Nicol Renfrew was standing in the doorway, looking slightly puzzled to find Alys there. His wife rose and went to meet him, her hands out. He returned her kiss, saying, ‘What’s eating at the old man? And did you hear we’ve a new sister? Meg’s finally dropped her bairn.’

Alys shut her eyes at the words, but had to open them again, because the image of Meg screaming in the birthing-chair was lurking behind her eyelids.

‘I heard,’ Grace said. ‘Are you pleased?’

He shrugged. ‘Well enough, I suppose. It doesny touch me. What’s eating at Frankie? He was in a rare rage about apples down there, and about you never consulting him, and then ranting at Robert. Eppie Campbell had to tell him the news twice afore he heard her.’

‘We’ve spoken of it,’Grace said. ‘Never worry. I brought a second barrel of apples up here this morning, and filled all the boxes we had wi apple-cheese, and he’s concerned it willny all sell afore it goes off.’

Nicol giggled in that strange way. Alys found herself laughing aloud in sympathy, and he cast her a glance, but said to his wife, ‘Why would you do that, lass? Just to annoy him?’

‘I don’t annoy your father if I can help it, Nicol, you know it,’ she said, with a sudden intensity. ‘I wanted to work wi apples the day, nothing more than that. Are you well, my loon?’

‘I’m well enough,’ he said indifferently. ‘That’s Gil Cunningham’s wife, is it no?’ He nodded to Alys, and smiled slyly. ‘I know what you’ve given her.’

‘Only a speck,’ said Grace.

‘And why are the two of you in here talking, anyway? You should be at the gossip-ale getting drunk wi the rest of them. The hall’s full of drunken women.’ He giggled again.

Grace patted his cheek. ‘That’s your answer,’ she said. ‘We’d no wish to get drunk, Alys and me, so we’re in here talking instead.’

Alys watched them. The cloud on which she appeared to be floating was descending slowly, and she was thinking more clearly. Apart from her own, the only marriage she had observed at close quarters was Kate’s. Both were love matches; she thought this one was not, though it was evident the two were fond of one another, and she wondered what Grace had brought to the marriage. Perhaps her skill, if it was that great.

‘You never talk to me,’ said Nicol discontentedly. ‘You talk to Frankie, and Meg, and all them. I wish you’d talk to me instead.’

‘I’ll aye talk to you, my loon,’ said Grace, turning to look intently at his face. ‘Sit down now and talk wi the two of us. Do you need some of your drops?’