Pat McIntosh - The Merchant's Mark

‘Yes, sir,’ said Gil again. ‘There was also some part of what may have been a loan from the Knights of St John. It was still in the sacks, with the seals on. I would say his late grace never saw it.’

‘And if my father never kent it was there,’ said James, leaning back against Gil’s ministrations, ‘and it could be stolen away, whoever got it could write it down sheer profit.’

‘I think so, sir.’

‘Who?’

‘I would say you’ve guessed, sir.’

‘Aye, but guesses are no proof. Have you proof, maister? Let’s hear it.’

‘I have,’ said Gil. He gave as compressed a summary as he might of the successive attempts to intercept the search for the identity of the dead man and the remainder of his load. The King listened intently; halfway through, without interrupting, he turned, gestured to Gil to turn his back, and twisting his own towel into a rope began rubbing Gil down as if he were a horse. The three watchers in the gallery never stirred.

‘And these two you took last night,’ said the King when Gil finished his tale, ‘that the Watch have put in the Tolbooth for you, are the same as attacked you along with the axeman on the Pentlands, and have been seen with him in Glasgow.’ Gil nodded. ‘Body of Christ, the road from here to Edinburgh must be smoking by now. Even at this time of year with the long days, it’s a hard ride across Scotland. And how much have they admitted, maister?’

‘Unless the Watch got anything from them,’ said Gil, ‘not even their names, though I know what those are, and the injured man at least is linked to — ’

‘Ah!’ said the King, and paused. ‘I suppose he could still deny it.’

‘No matter, sir,’ said Angus from the shadows. ‘If we tell him they’re taken — ’

‘Aye, and ask for his seals. We’ll have both off him, my lord Angus, before we leave Glasgow. The Treasurer’s seal and the Comptroller’s both.’

‘And gladly, sir,’ said Angus emphatically. ‘Bring them to you, will I?’

‘Aye, for we’ll need to discuss who gets them next. But first,’ said James, as a thought struck him, ‘I want enough coin off him for two-three days. Including,’ he slapped Gil on the shoulder quite as if he were a horse, ‘there you are, maister, you’re done, including two, no, three purses for this morning. You know the sort of thing, my lord.’

‘This curst litter is full of boulders,’ complained Maistre Pierre.

‘We’re nearly at Glasgow now,’ said Gil, hiding a grin. ‘You’ll be home in an hour or two, and then you can lie in your own bed.’

He looked over his shoulder at the small cavalcade of their baggage and the escort Sinclair had provided. It had taken them two days to travel from Roslin, and Maistre Pierre had grumbled most of the way, about the horse he was expected to ride, about the litter which he did not need, about not having found a barber in Roslin, or about any other subject which came to mind. Clearly, the ten or twelve days he had spent being nursed by Mistress Robison had done little for his temper.

‘Why should I wish to lie in any bed?’

‘I’ve sent Luke on ahead,’ Gil said, ignoring this, ‘to warn the two households. I thought my uncle and Kate should know we’re near home, as well as Alys.’

‘And what if they don’t wish to know?’

‘And I need to get a word with Augie,’ Gil added. ‘He was wanting to speak to me the day I left, but Robert Blacader was back in Glasgow and sent for me, and there was no time.’

‘Tell me again what his lordship said.’

‘I’m attached to his retinue,’ said Gil. ‘It’s a formal appointment, with the title of Quaestor, and a benefice attached.’ He grinned. ‘Somewhere in Argyll. Not one of the fat ones, of course, no manse in the Chanonry or seat in Chapter, but still it’s a benefice, with enough to pay a vicar and still have a bit income.’

‘And the duties of this appointment?’

‘I’ve to do more or less what we’ve been doing. Look into any case of secret murder within the diocese, or maybe the entire Archdiocese, I wasn’t quite sure which he meant. Go where his lordship sends me, I suppose. Report to him, find justice for the dead.’

‘A wide remit,’ said Maistre Pierre doubtfully. ‘And when you are not so employed?’

Gil shrugged, and steered his horse round a pothole in the road. ‘I’ll have to wait and see if Blacader wants me at his side or not. If not, then I can live in Glasgow and set up as a notary, fetch in a little more money.’

‘So we may set a date for your marriage.’

‘Yes,’ said Gil with satisfaction. I long for the wedding , he thought. The lute tune sprang into his head, and with it the image of the three lutenists in Stirling bent together over their instruments, passing not that melody but its companion from one to another, runs and trills and doubling passages thickening the texture, while McIan sat in his great chair clasping his harp and listening intently. All will be well , he had said, and it was.

‘Does Alys know?’

‘I took the time to go by the house and tell her before I left Glasgow. When I came away she was considering the dry stores. She seemed to feel there were not enough almonds in Glasgow for her purpose.’

‘More than likely. I suppose she will want a second fine gown to be married in,’ said her father, with spurious resignation. ‘Black brocade is likely too sombre.’

They went on in silence for a while, past Garrowhill and Springboig. Maistre Pierre lay back among the cushions which supported him, staring at the swaying roof of the litter. The escort started an argument about a battle a few of them had been in, which someone tried to settle by singing a ballad in High Dutch. Gil thought of Rob, and then of Johan.

‘Will you stay in Scotland now?’ he asked.

Maistre Pierre turned his head to meet his eyes. ‘Why ever not?’

‘I wondered,’ said Gil deliberately, ‘if your task was now over.’

The mason considered him for a short time, then grinned without humour.

‘Well, I liked you for Alys because your mind is at least as good as hers, so I should not be surprised. No, my task is not over, Gilbert. That was only a part of it.’

‘So you remain in Scotland.’

‘I do.’

‘Good,’ said Gil lightly.

‘What brought it to your notice? I suppose I have been clumsy.’

‘I’ve been in the church at Brinay. While I was in Paris I had a friend came from near there.’

‘Now that I would never have expected. I have not, as you may have guessed.’

‘I wondered,’ said Gil. ‘My friend took me down to his father’s home for a week’s hunting one spring, and we went over to look at the church.’

‘Ah,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘It’s a tiny building, with a truly astonishing set of wall-paintings,’ Gil went on, ‘well worth the ride over there, but not a pillar to its name.’

‘So naturally you began to pay attention to such remarks.’

‘The more so as de Brinay himself didn’t correct you.’

The litter swayed on. Behind them, the escort had moved on to drinking songs. Their repertoire seemed to be considerable.

‘I am able to tell you very little,’ said Maistre Pierre at length. ‘The facts are not mine to reveal.’

‘That doesn’t concern me,’ said Gil. ‘You wouldn’t reveal the inmost secrets of the mason’s craft either.’ They looked at each other again. A small smile flickered in the depths of the mason’s untrimmed beard, the first time Gil had ever seen that trait of Alys’s in him. ‘No, what I would like is an assurance that you do not act to the detriment of my country.’