Pat McIntosh - The Merchant's Mark

The litter lurched as one of the horses put its foot in a rut. Its passenger exclaimed sharply. Gil put a quick hand to the roof of the structure, but the animal recovered, and the litter swayed on.

‘At present,’ said Maistre Pierre after a little, ‘I am not acting, nor am I asked to act, to the detriment or danger of Scotland. France is an ally of Scotland,’ he pointed out.

‘But you aren’t acting for France,’ said Gil.

‘I am not acting against your country, Gilbert. I will swear it on anything you choose.’

‘Your word will do me.’ Gil studied his friend a moment longer, then reached down, and they shook hands. ‘What does it do to Alys’s status?’

‘Nothing. I was lawfully wedded to her mother, Christ assoil her, and can you doubt that she is my daughter?’

‘No,’ admitted Gil, and grinned again, thinking of the strong resemblance between the two. ‘Not that it would trouble me,’ he added, ‘but there are legal considerations.’ He looked about him. ‘Have we passed Carntyne already? We must be less than two miles from home.’

Kate Cunningham, sitting in the arbour in her uncle’s garden where it seemed to her it had all begun, stared out over the lower town and thought bleakly of her future.

There was really, she thought, very little about it that was positive. Less than three weeks since, on the morning after her failed petition to St Mungo, Alys had said to her, What has changed? and she had said, All my hopes are away . In taking brief charge of Augie Morison’s house and children, she had found first distraction and then, like green shoots in the snow, a new hope. But the buds, it seemed, were frost-bitten and would not flower. What a literary metaphor, she thought bitterly. Worthy of Augie Morison himself. Better with Chaucer: Love hath my name ystrike out of his sclat .

The last good moment she could think of had been when the King’s procession paused outside Morison’s Yard, on its way out of Glasgow on the Sunday morning, the day after Augie — after Maister Morison had been freed. Alerted by a servant in blue velvet, the entire household had been out at the gate, herself and Alys on either side of Morison, the men around them, Nan and Babb with the little girls at the back of the group. The King, glowing in blue satin and black velvet, his chestnut hair combed down over his shoulders, a gold chain with a sapphire jewel gleaming on his chest, had halted his dappled horse as everyone round Kate bent the knee.

‘Maister Morison,’ he had said. ‘I hope you found all in order when you got home.’

‘Y-yes, sir,’ managed Morison, straightening up, and he stepped forward in response to the King’s beckoning hand.

‘You lie, maister, you lie,’ said James in great good humour. ‘You mind, I’ve had a game of caich with Maister Cunningham this morning. I’ve heard about last night’s inbreak, just as you got to your own gates. Two of my lord St Johns’ men,’ he said, audible to all the neighbours, ‘taken in the act of housebreaking by the women of the household. I’ve thanked Maister Cunningham already, and I thank you now, maister, for your help in righting more than one great wrong these last few days.’

Morison bowed and stammered inarticulately. James drew the gold chain with its sapphire over his head and leaned gracefully down from the saddle. He must have practised that, thought Kate, watching.

‘A small token,’ said the King, setting the chain about Morison’s neck. As Augie, extinguished with amazement, backed away, James looked beyond him and called Kate and Alys forward.

Kate could hardly remember what he had said first, except for a teasing remark about Alys’s wisdom which had sent the younger girl’s chin up. There had been an exchange of sorts, and then the King had said seriously, ‘Scotland needs folk wi courage and a love of justice, ladies, and if the women of Scotland have such attributes as well as her men, we’ll breed sturdier sons to defend this realm. I’m proud to have such as you among my subjects.’

Rhetoric, thought Kate, is a royal study.

‘Now, I hope you’ll divide this among the folk of the household,’ he tossed a fat purse to Morison, who caught it at the last moment as his men grinned hopefully, ‘and here’s another wee token for the two of you ladies and all.’

Then there had been a heavy purse of red velvet in her hands, she had bowed her head, Alys was curtsying to the ground with another such purse clasped in the crook of her arm. The King’s voice above her head bade them Good day , his horse wheeled and set off down the High Street, and the procession clattered after it.

There was a hundred merks in the red velvet purse. Apart from the heap of coin which Morison and Maister Mason had counted on the majolica plate across the grass here, it was more money than Kate had seen together since her father’s death. If she had ever had any prospects of marriage, it would make a tocher, she thought. Or maybe she could buy a bit of land with it, rent it out, get some income that way. What point was there? she thought wearily.

‘Are you ready, my doo?’ said Babb now at her elbow.

‘Ready?’

‘We’re to go down the hill. Maister Mason cam home yesternight — ’

‘I know that,’ she said impatiently.

‘And we’re all bidden to his house the day. Maister Gil told you yestreen, for I heard him.’

‘So he did,’ she said. He had also told her, grinning like an ape, that he would be able to set a date for his wedding. She had heard the news from Alys already, and listened to her for three days while he was away thinking aloud about her plans; she had smiled, at both of them, and said the right things.

‘Come on, lassie, Maister David’s waiting,’ said Babb, with rough tenderness. ‘Do you good to get out. Mistress Mason’s company’s no that bad. Come on,’ she coaxed.

‘I saw Mistress Mason yesterday,’ said Kate. But she allowed Babb to hoist her upright, accepted her crutches, and clumped into the stable-yard where her mule waited for her. He turned as he heard her approach, and whuffled at her, nuzzling hopefully at her hand when she stroked his face.

‘Aye, Kate,’ said her uncle, stepping out at the house door as Babb led the mule round from the stable-yard. ‘Are we to get the whole tale of what happened now, do you suppose? Now that you and your brother and Peter Mason can each tell us a chapter?’

‘I never thought of that,’ she admitted. ‘There’s not been the time to fit it together, has there, what with Gil taking Alys to Roslin last week to see how her father did, and then going back this week to fetch him home. Aye, you could be right, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Canon Cunningham, striding out beside her towards the Wyndhead. ‘For I canny make sense of the half of it I’ve heard.’

Away down the High Street, dismounting before the mason’s house, Kate tried hard not to glance at the gates of Morison’s Yard four doors away. Babb was less inhibited.

‘They’ve painted that yett, I see,’ she said as Wallace was led away. ‘Matt was saying they were working on the yard. So I should hope, the work we put in to redd it up. Matt tells me they’ve been building and all,’ she added, in the face of her mistress’s indifference. ‘He’s put new glass windows into hall and chambers, so he says, and sent all the hangings to be cleaned, and hired two new lassies that Matt says’ll no last long what wi Ursel and Nan wanting them to work harder than they like.’

‘It aye surprises me,’ said Kate acidly, ‘how much Matt can tell you of other folk’s business, considering how little he ever says.’

‘Aye but,’ said Babb cheerfully, following her into the pend and missing the point of her remark, ‘he’s Maister David’s man. He’s bound to take an interest in other folk’s business. And those bairns are doing well wi Nan, he says.’