Pat McIntosh - St Mungo's Robin

‘I saw him go out,’ said Millar. ‘I was ju — just leaving, myself — a late lecture, six o’clock — I’m studying Theology,’ he expanded, ‘and he left ahead of me.’

‘And you weren’t back until ten?’ Gil asked.

‘- oh, aye, it was late, I’d to see Anselm and Duncan to their beds on my own, and Anselm was well worked up, the soul, I canny tell what about — ’

‘We sat a while discussing the lecture, and so forth. It must ha been ten o’clock I came up the road. I saw there was a light in the Deacon’s lodgings, so I locked up and went to my own bed.’ He turned in the doorway and pointed at the main range with its top-heavy dormer windows. ‘That’s my lodging at the end, you see, I reach it from the inner yard. The Deacon’s bedchamber is just through the wall from me. I could hear him moving about and all.’

‘And you’re certain it was as late as ten?’ Gil prompted.

Millar shook his head. ‘I ken all was dark at St Mungo’s and at St Nicholas when I came through the Wyndhead.’

‘Ten o’clock,’ said Maistre Pierre disapprovingly. ‘I should have said earlier, but I suppose it is possible.’

‘And this was all just as usual?’ Gil asked.

‘- usual enough, save they were all late back, for it’s only the two nights in the week Maister Millar’s no here to help me wi Anselm, and what he was on about I’d like to ken, his friend had tellt him all was well but he couldny see it and kept asking me — ’

‘Usual enough,’ agreed Millar. ‘The Deacon was often out in the evening, and back at a variable time, and as Mistress Mudie says I’ve two late lectures in the week, and I’m often gey late home after them. You can check that wi Patey Coventry,’ he added anxiously, ‘he’s in the same class.’

‘Oh, the Bachelor of Sacred Theology course?’ Gil said in Latin. Millar nodded, looking relieved.

‘- needing me much longer, I’d like to get the Deacon made decent, for I’ve the crocks to see to after their porridge and the lassie to send to the market, and then I’ve the dinner to get started, and the Deacon’s lodging to redd up and the accounts to manage and I hope you’ll oversee the accounts for today, Maister Millar, since Deacon Naismith’s no able — ’

‘I have learned all I may from him just now,’ said Maistre Pierre. ‘What do we do now, Gilbert?’

‘I’d like to see the Deacon’s lodgings,’ said Gil, ‘you should be present, Maister Millar, but I think we could let Mistress Mudie get on now.’

‘- I tellt ye, I’ve no had a chance to get up there to redd up, I’d no like ye to think it aye looks the way it does first thing, but at least I can make sure Humphrey gets his draught — ’

‘I can let you in,’ said Millar, ‘but I need to take the old men to Terce. Maybe Cubby could lead the Office,’ he said doubtfully, ‘if Frankie’s no back. He’s got the best voice, they can all hear him. Then I could come back and help.’

‘If you could. And you two,’ Gil turned to Lowrie. ‘If you can find Michael,’ he amended, ‘the pair of you could look for the Deacon’s cloak and hat if you would. I’ll send the dog with you, and you can tell me if he pays attention to any place in particular.’

‘They mi — might be in his lodging,’ said Millar. ‘The cloak and hat.’

‘True,’ agreed Maistre Pierre, ‘but having taken the time to put his boots on, why would he then go out bareheaded?’

‘Michael’s likely in the Douglas lodging,’ said Lowrie. ‘Socrates and I can go see.’

‘And then,’ said Gil reluctantly, ‘I’ll need to talk to the brothers. I’ve a notion one or two might have something useful to tell us.’

‘- and that’ll make a nice change for them, a civil learned young man to talk to, they aye like a new ear for their tales, the souls, and if that’s you done here, maister, I’ll see to covering him and a couple of candles the now till he softens and we can make all decent — ’

Lowrie paused at the doorway, cast a sidelong, reluctant glance at the corpse in its pool of lamplight and crossed himself.

‘It’s an odd thing,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve been at the hunt, I’ve witnessed a many stags unmade and lesser game cut up, but this is no the same at all.’

‘No,’ agreed Gil. ‘It’s no the same at all. Say a word for him when you get the chance,’ he suggested, miming counting his beads. ‘It helps.’

The young man nodded, and swallowed hard.

‘I’ll do that,’ he said. ‘Thanks, maister.’

Out in the yard, the rain was heavier. Lowrie ducked his head in a brief bow and hurried for the hall door, and Millar led the way to the fore-stair of the Deacon’s lodging. Socrates, following Lowrie, checked at the threshold and emitted one staccato bark. Gil looked back from the stair and gestured, and the dog obediently padded off after the young man.

‘Not locked,’ said Maistre Pierre as the latch rattled.

‘Oh, no,’ agreed Millar, pushing the door open. ‘We lock the outer gate by night, ye ken, and the hall door, and the back yett as Sissie said, but we’ve no locks to our own doors, save for the Douglas lodging, a course, and the boy has that the now.’

Naismith’s apartment was both commodious and clean. The door admitted them to an outer room fashionably and expensively furnished with a handsome court-cupboard, four leather backstools and a table with carved legs. In one corner of the room stood a tall rack of shallow drawers, bundles of papers showing at their open fronts. Wall-hangings of verdure work made the place comfortable, and on an embroidered linen cloth on the table sat the remains of Mistress Mudie’s collation: a wooden platter with the crumbs of an oatmeal bannock, the leaf wrappings of a green cheese, an apple-core. Windows facing on to either yard were stoutly shuttered, but a grey light fell through their glazed upper portions just under the thatch.

‘And the bedchamber’s yonder,’ said Millar, nodding at the far end of the room. ‘Now I’d best get down to see to the Office.’

‘Mistress Mudie keeps house for the Deacon as well as for the brothers?’ Gil asked. ‘Alone?’

‘Aye, and for me.’ Millar grimaced. ‘She’s a good woman, and she loves caring for the old men, it’s no just a duty, and she’s a good housewife, wi two-three kitchen hands under her, though you’d never think it the way she goes on about the cooking. Her talk doesny bother the brothers,’ he added, with a wry grin, ‘the most of them canny hear her.’

‘I have no doubt she is a good woman, as you say, but her tongue would drive me raving wild in a day,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘ Your semly voys that ye so smal out-twyne Maketh my thoght in joye and blis habounde ,’ remarked Gil. Millar grinned again, then hastily rearranged his features in solemnity. ‘So the Deacon left just before you did,’ Gil continued, ‘and came back late. How did he get up the stair last night? The moon’s at the quarter, but it was full cloud. I’d need of a lantern myself, out in the street, even with the lights on the house corners, and in the yard here it would be like the inside of a barrel.’

‘Oh, he’d a la — lantern,’ said Millar, pausing on the doorsill. ‘It’s here. He’s brought it home with him.’

‘His own lantern? You can identify it?’

‘Oh, aye.’ Millar waved a hand at the object where it sat on the court-cupboard. ‘Well, it belongs to the bedehouse. You can see, it’s got the badge on the handle, and all.’

Gil went over and lifted the lantern. It was a well-made and well-worn specimen, of tooled brass set with pieces of mica. The shutter was fastened by a neat clasp whose pin was attached by a fine chain, and the handle was smoothly shaped and ornamented by a small shield with a heart on it.