Pat McIntosh - A Pig of Cold Poison

‘I never saw,’ said someone hastily, ‘for I was talking to Barbara here.’

‘I did,’ said another voice, ‘I saw him shake the bottle to stir up the pyson — ’

‘No, I — ’ began Bothwell.

Somebody uttered a heartfelt groan.

‘So we’ll need to wait here,’ continued Kate, as the limp form of the champion was borne out of the room by two of the other mummers. The apothecaries followed in a solemn group. ‘Andy, would you and Ursel have them bring up more wine and another bite to eat.’

‘We’ll no all can stay here,’ pronounced Nancy Sproull from her post beside Renfrew’s wife. ‘We need to get Meg home to her own chamber, or she’ll be here longer than you care for, Lady Kate.’

‘Never say it, Nancy!’ said Renfrew, turning back from the door.

‘Oh, I’ll say it, Frankie, whether you choose or no.’ She laid a portentous hand on Mistress Mathieson’s belly, and nodded as the younger woman gasped and the great dome heaved under her touch. ‘Her time’s on her.’

‘So she was right about her dates, then,’ said Renfrew.

‘ Ah, mon Dieu! ’ said Maistre Pierre.

There was an appalled pause, into which Mistress Mathieson delivered another shuddering groan. Then Nicol Renfrew said, with his high-pitched laugh:

‘No doubt of the brat being yours, Faither, when it picks sic a moment to arrive.’

By the time the Serjeant arrived the gathering had split into several parts.

At Mistress Sproull’s announcement the remaining men among the guests had taken themselves hurriedly into one of the window bays again, their backs to the goings-on. Gil would have joined them, but for a feeling that the flustered Augie needed his support. Kate, however, went into immediate action.

‘I’ll see to this, sir,’ she announced, one hand on Morison’s arm. ‘You make certain Maister Renfrew and his colleagues have all they need. Here’s Gil can help you, and Alys, I’d be right glad of your — ’

Alys looked round and nodded from where she was already conferring with Mistress Sproull.

‘There is still time to get her home,’ she said, ‘since it is only next door, but also we should send to tell her mother and the midwife.’

‘Aye, you’re right, lassie,’ agreed Babb, stroking Mistress Mathieson’s perspiring forehead with one large gentle hand, ‘we’ve time, but we’d best no stand about, just the same.’

Leaving Maister Renfrew issuing curt instructions to Kate and to the women of his own household, Gil followed Morison as ordered, and found himself recalling the way his mother had addressed his father as my lord in company, formal and respectful and at times extracting the same expression of deep but wary relief as he had just seen on Morison’s face.

In the hall-chamber, the sick man had been laid on the great bed, the plaids and mantles which had been laid there bundled on to a stool, the embroidered counterpane hastily drawn back and mounded at his feet. The remaining mummers were huddled by the wall while the Forrest brothers and James Syme conferred in low tones at the bedside. Morison hurried to join the apothecaries, saying anxiously, ‘How does the poor laddie? Is he — is he still —?’

‘He’s still alive,’ said Syme, ‘but I fear we must prepare for the worst. Is the priest sent for, Augie?’

The other champion sobbed aloud at this, scrubbing at his eyes with the cuff of his doublet and smearing soot on the back of his hand. Judas patted him clumsily on the shoulder. Gil crossed the room to join the men and offer sympathy, got them to sit down on the padded bench which matched the hangings of the bed, and drew a back-stool to one end of it so he could see their faces. Robert Renfrew hurried in as he seated himself, carrying a heavy leather case and a silver basin and followed at a more measured pace by his father.

‘Tell me about this,’ Gil said encouragingly to the mummers, trying to ignore the bustle. ‘That’s not the way the play should go. What was meant to happen?’

They all stared at him, and then the Judas pulled himself together and said wearily, ‘Well, the champion should rise up and all be — all be well again, maister. That’s what the play’s about, see.’

Gil nodded agreement. ‘Was anything else different, before Danny fell?’

They looked at one another uneasily, and Judas, who seemed to be the spokesman, said, ‘No. No that you’d call different, considering.’

‘Considering what?’ Gil summoned patience.

‘I’ll no believe it,’ said the St Mungo. He pushed his mitre back to scratch his head. ‘Nanty’s a good fellow, he’d no do sic a thing.’

‘Here’s the priest,’ said the piper quietly, as a stir at the chamber door signalled the entry of Father Francis Govan from the Franciscan house across the way. One of the maidservants entered with a jug of hot water, staring round-eyed, and lingered until pushed out by Wat Forrest. His brother was using mortar and pestle to bruise some powerful-smelling herbs.

‘Nanty and Danny had words,’ said Judas reluctantly. ‘Down in the kitchen yonder, afore we come up to play the play.’

‘And what was that about?’ Gil asked. Again they looked at one another uneasily.

‘About the lassie Renfrew?’ said the Bessie. He had removed his headdress, which lay at his feet like a mound of washing; closer inspection showed that Ysonde was right, and the main component was a bed-sheet, nine or ten square yards of heavy linen. The fellow’s neck muscles must be strong, Gil thought, to carry that on his head. ‘See, Nanty was out in the yard getting a word wi her when we should ha been all in the kitchen setting out the moves.’

‘And Danny took exception to that?’ Gil prompted.

‘He gaed out to the yard,’ said the piper, ‘called him in, demanded what they’d had to say at sic a moment.’

‘And Nanty said it was nothing, and nane o his mind,’ supplied Bessie. ‘A bit of a ding-dong they had, though it was just a shouting match, they never flung fists.’

‘We got them calmed down,’ said St Mungo, ‘and we sorted out all the moves, and sat down wi a stoup of ale to wait.’

‘And then,’ took up Judas, ‘if Nanty wasny getting another word wi the lass on the stair, just afore we came up. I spoke sharp to him, but the limmer gied me a bit snash herself, and slipped away back to the company. And as well, too,’ he added darkly. ‘ I’ve saved your play , she says. Did you ever hear? She’d ha felt the rough side of my hand if she’d waited, whoever her faither might be.’

When Gil stepped out into the hall, he found Kate just despatching Babb and two reluctant journeymen with the groaning, white-faced Mistress Mathieson established in a great chair, to carry her next door to her own house, escorted by her stepdaughters who appeared to be engaged in a savage whispered quarrel. Several people looked round as he emerged, but he shook his head.

‘No change,’ he said. ‘Is the Serjeant not here yet?’

‘William must have gone further afield to find him,’ Kate speculated. ‘The man’s never about when you need him.’

‘And Our Lady send that Eleanor doesny miscarry and all, what wi the excitement,’ commented Grace Gordon as she gathered up the last of the fans and cushions. ‘You’ll remember this gathering your life long, Kate.’

‘I wish I thought I could forget it,’ said Kate wryly.

The two women exchanged kisses, and Grace left, with an anxious look at her husband, who waved his fingers at her but did not move. Alys came to tuck her hand in Gil’s, whether giving or seeking reassurance he was uncertain though he was glad of her touch. Kate braced herself visibly and looked round the hall at her remaining guests. Mistress Hamilton and the quiet young wife of Wat Forrest, who had hardly spoken in Gil’s hearing all afternoon, had begun discussing childbirth with Nancy Sproull. Nancy’s daughter Nell had retired to a corner and seemed to be struggling with tears. The men were still under siege in the window bay, Andrew Hamilton and Dod Wilkie discussing some matter of burgh council business with Maistre Pierre, Nicol Renfrew sitting humming tunelessly and swinging one foot again, and young Andrew Hamilton staring alternately at the door to the hall-chamber and at the despairing figure of Nanty Bothwell at the far end of the room where he sat bound to a backstool and guarded by two journeymen in watchful pose.