Pat McIntosh - A Pig of Cold Poison

‘Confused.’ Alys sat still, glad of the warmth but uncertain of the close contact. Through the headache she said, ‘I still don’t understand — what gain is it to bring me away like this? Surely it can only fetch Gil after me faster than ever?’

‘You’re our insurance,’ said Nicol again. ‘Even if he reaches Dumbarton before we sail, he’ll let us go rather than see harm come to you, I’d say.’

She swallowed hard. What had Gil said about this man? What was the condition called? Akrasia , that was it, Impotens sui , the state of not having power over oneself, of being unpredictable, without moral judgement. What did he threaten?

‘Nicol, you won’t harm her,’ said Grace. Was that anxiety in her tone?

‘You don’t know that,’ said Nicol, giggling. ‘And nor does Gil Cunningham.’ He bent to his task again, and water splashed over the side. The river did seem to be sliding past very close to the topmost plank of the boat; there was a surprising amount of baggage piled in the midst of the little craft, and beyond it the boatman was now doing something mysterious with a rope. The sail flapped, their speed checked in the water, something swung. Water slopped and Nicol’s activities with the baler redoubled, the sail filled again and the chorus of creaks began a different tune. Child of a western seaport, she understood enough about small boats to know that the wind was not completely favourable, that the set of the sail must be altered to make the most of it. They must have negotiated one of the bends in the river. On the Renfrewshire shore an owl screeched, and another answered.

‘I wouldn’t have told Gil,’ she said quietly. ‘And I don’t think he knew about the apple-cheese or your workroom. It would take him a little time to come to the right answer. But now — your house is the second place he’ll look for me when he finds I’m not at home, and Isa knew I’d been there. He’ll pursue us to Dumbarton with all the speed he can make.’

‘Isa also saw you leave,’ said Grace, equally quietly. ‘I don’t know what my husband intends.’ She sighed. ‘Such a fright I had when he bore you in at the back gate. Then we had to fasten you on to the handcart, all among the luggage, and then we had the argument with this fisherman. I regret this. I really regret this.’

‘What does your husband fear Gil will do?’ she asked. Her hands seemed to be trembling again.

‘Prevent us leaving. Take either of us up for Frankie’s death.’

‘Either of you?’

Grace’s face turned towards her, a pale blurred oval in the lantern-light. Incongruously, there was a laugh in her voice. ‘Either of us. And whichever he takes for it, he’d be wrong.’

Alys digested this.

‘It was his heart, then?’ she said.

‘It was.’

‘You’re very sure.’

‘I witnessed it.’

‘You were there when he died. In his chamber, in the midnight.’

‘He’d summoned me there.’

It was one thing, she discovered, to suspect something so dreadful, but quite another to have it confirmed. Appalled, Alys put a hand out, groped for Grace’s, gripped it. The clasp was returned. ‘How long?’ she asked. ‘How long had he been — been — imposing himself — ’

‘Five month. Any time he saw the opportunity. Any time his son was out of it with the drops, which seemed to happen more often lately. Sometimes in our own bed, wi Nicol drugged at my side.’

Please God and Christ and Our Lady and all the saints, she begged, send that Nicol could not hear their voices, above the increased creaking of the boat, the splash of the baling. And blessed Mary, forgive me that I complained of my own barrenness, when this was happening almost next door.

‘What a blessing you have not conceived while you were in Glasgow.’

Another faint, bitter laugh. ‘I made sure of that. And he never suspected.’

‘He wished to — to replace the one you lost himself?’

‘My God, you’re fast. Yes, that was what he told me, time and time again. He’d make sure his heir was a Renfrew born. But that wasn’t the worst of it.’

Alys made a small questioning noise, but the answer struck her almost at the same moment.

‘The tisane,’ she whispered. ‘The night you came home.’ Grace’s hand tightened on hers, and she felt the movement as the other girl nodded. ‘Ah, what wickedness! No wonder you — ’

‘Planned to poison him.’ The words were almost inaudible.

The sail flapped. Cuthbert checked, lurched, rushed onward. Water gurgled very near her waist. Away to her left, on the Dunbartonshire shore, there were hoofbeats, several horses. A sliver of moon had risen, and slid out of the clouds occasionally.

‘He’d sweetened it with sugar,’ Grace said suddenly, softly, ‘and put galangal and cloves and all sorts to it, to disguise the taste. If it hadny been for that I’d have recognized what he was about. I’ll never be able to face cloves again.’

‘I can see that.’ Alys put her other arm about Grace under the cloak. They leaned together, sharing warmth. ‘And then Agnes found the stuff you had prepared.’

‘I thought I’d hidden it. She’s always been one for prying and spying, though not as bad as her brother.’ She checked. ‘I always forget that my husband is her brother too. Not as bad as her brother Robert. She took the first batch I made, not knowing it for what it was I suppose, and gave it to the man Bothwell. I replaced it the next day.’

‘The apple-cheese — ’

‘Yes. She must have borrowed what she needed, just the day after. I thought the flask had been moved, I thought I’d made more than there was left in it, but the past few days have been such a turmoil I wasn’t certain. Then the boy — Robert — died, and I knew I was right.’

‘Where was the flask when Gil searched the house?’

‘In my purse, while I hoped the stopper was fast.’

‘Where are we the now?’ demanded Nicol suddenly from beyond the piled-up baggage.

‘Kilpatrick’s yonder,’ said the boatman. ‘And Bowling ayont it. We’ll be at Dumbarton in a hauf an hour or so, and you’ll can gie me the extra two groats afore I set you ashore.’

‘One groat,’ said Nicol.

‘Aye, well, that was afore you mentioned insurance,’ said the boatman. ‘Did you never think to ask if I spoke the French tongue? There’s most mariners can manage a few words. I canny afford to insure my boatie, but I can get extra off you if you’re taking me into danger, my lad. Two groats it is, or I’ll not set you ashore.’

‘We’re no wanting to go ashore anyway,’ said Nicol cheerfully. ‘We’re bound aboard the Dutchman that’s lying off Dumbarton, Sankt Nikolaas .’

‘Wherever I set you,’ repeated the boatman doggedly, ‘that’s another two groats.’

‘D’you reckon?’ said Nicol.

There was a sudden movement aft of the pile of luggage. The boat rocked, Alys exclaimed in fright, the boatman cried out. There was a huge splash, and the boat lurched and sped on, lighter in the water. Someone shouted.

‘Nicol!’ exclaimed Grace, leaning forward as if she would rise. She recollected herself in time, and Nicol said lazily:

‘Never fear, lass, I’m here.’

‘Hi! Come about there!’ floated after them, and more splashing. Nicol laughed.

‘I’m no sailor,’ he said, but hardly loud enough for the man to hear. ‘I canny turn your wee boat.’

‘Nicol!’ said Grace on a note of panic. ‘Fit deein, loon? What — what have you done?’ she corrected herself in Scots.

‘He’ll no drown,’ said Nicol. ‘It’s chest deep, no more. He can walk to Bowling.’

‘But how do we — Nicol, we canny sail this boatie! How do we steer it? We’ll run aground, we’ll sink — ’