Pat McIntosh - The Nicholas Feast

Gil suppressed anger.

‘Let the lady past, if you please,’ he said, emphasizing the word. ‘She is here about the business I am conducting for the Principal and Dean Elphinstone.’ Whether it’s true or no, that ought to silence him, he thought.

Jaikie glowered at him, and finally stepped aside as Alys emerged from the tunnel on her father’s arm, bringing with her the feeling that the sun had come out again. Catching Gil’s eye she curtsied and said formally, ‘May I speak to you, Maister Cunningham? I have information which may be of value.’

Her father’s eyebrows went up and Jaikie gaped at her, but Gil, forewarned by her expression, replied in the same language, ‘Indeed yes, for I am sure your news will be worth hearing.’

‘That’s Latin!’ said Jaikie suspiciously. ‘How can a lassie ken Latin?’

‘Same way a student kens it,’ said Gil crisply. ‘Now stand aside, man.’

Biting his thumb and glowering, the porter stood aside and watched them. His mutter followed them across the courtyard.

‘I don’t know. Even William never had a leman at the yett, and he’d the half of Glasgow leaving messages for him.’ As they reached the door of the Bachelors’ Schule the mutter rose to a shout. ‘And is that dog to go back to Billy Dog now or no? He’s been asking for it.’

‘Gil, you must come to our house,’ said Alys, her hand on his arm. ‘Mistress Irvine is in great distress.’

‘Irvine,’ Gil said. He disengaged his arm and put it round her shoulders. The pup lay down firmly on his feet. ‘I should have thought. How can I answer you, mother, When my schoolmates have me slain? I take it she gave him her own name?’

‘Or her husband’s,’ said the mason, sitting down opposite them on another of the long hard benches. ‘That must be why the boy named her when he wrote his will.’

‘It has been more than a little trying,’ said Alys. ‘When Mistress Irvine found it was her foster-son who was dead — ’

‘Did the McIans tell her?’ her father interrupted.

‘No, they had left by then. Kittock mentioned it, and then she ran out in the street — ’

‘Tell us from the beginning,’ Gil said. He tightened his clasp on her shoulders, and she leaned a little against him.

‘The McIans came by the house,’ she said patiently. ‘The harper was a little upset, and wanted to ask after the baby. Mistress McIan told me about what happened — about the dead student, and how her brother knew where he was — ’

‘Not exactly,’ Gil said. ‘He knew he was behind a locked door.’

‘Oh. They spoke to Mistress Irvine, too, to thank her for trying to get the bairn to eat, and then they left. It was only a little while ago that Kittock said something about the dead man in Mistress Irvine’s hearing, and repeated enough to make her sure it was her boy. She became very distressed.’

‘Poor woman,’ said her father sympathetically.

Alys threw him a glance, and nodded. ‘She ran out in the street, and found some people coming from the feast, still in their gowns and hoods, and asked them who was dead, and what happened. They told her his name, and that he had been throttled — is that right?’ Gil nodded. ‘It took several of us to get her back into the house. I sent to Greyfriars, and Father Francis is with her now. But the thing is, Gil, that I think she may have information for you. She has mentioned knowing the young man’s mother, and that money comes from the Montgomery estates for his keep.’

‘This could be valuable,’ Gil agreed, ‘but there are matters I must see to here before I can leave. Alys, what you could do for me if you will — ’ She looked up hopefully. ‘- is take this animal home and feed him for me.’

‘If he will go with you,’ said the mason. ‘And I have a task for you also.’

‘Can’t I do anything else?’

‘Not yet.’ Gil smiled at her. ‘And the dog must be fed.’

‘Very well.’ She bent to offer the pup her hand to sniff. ‘He is a handsome dog — not like Didine at all, is he, father?’ As the mason grunted in agreement, she explained to Gil: ‘Catherine had a little dog when we came to Glasgow, a pop-eyed yappy creature. She died last year. This fellow is much more to my taste. What is his name?’

‘I have no idea. Probably Bran or Gelert or some such thing,’ said Gil disparagingly. ‘Everyone and his granny calls his wolfhound Bran. His head needs looked at, too.’

‘I see that.’ She stroked the rough flank, and the hairy tail beat twice on the floor. ‘Poor beast. And your task, father?’

The mason felt in his sleeve, and drew out the much-folded papers they had found in William’s purse.

‘See what you can make of that,’ he said, handing them to her. ‘The square one is in code.’

‘In code?’ She unfolded it carefully, and tilted it to the light. ‘Simple substitution,’ she said after a moment. ‘Look, here is the same group of letters, and here, and again here. I can decipher that,’ she finished confidently. ‘What about the other?’

‘Notes of some sort, transcribing the tablets.’ Gil held the little set out on his palm, and she glanced at it, and looked closer.

‘I saw those in Maister Webster’s shop,’ she said. ‘Yes, I am certain it’s the same set. I thought them too dear for something so small.’

‘William obviously thought otherwise.’ Gil slipped the leather cover off to look at the carved outer faces again. ‘This is fiddly work. It would have taken time.’

‘As for these notes.’ Alys looked down at the second sheet of paper. ‘ M will be in G . I suppose G might be for Glasgow?’

‘Then M might mean Montgomery,’ said her father. ‘Who else!’

‘It’s possible,’ agreed Gil. ‘Very possible.’

Alys refolded the papers and tucked them behind her busk. ‘If I have time, I will work on that this evening.’

‘Is nane so witty and so wyce. I think you can do everything,’ said Gil in admiration.

She threw him a glinting look, and got to her feet. ‘I must go and see to the kitchen. Will you be in to supper?’

‘Who knows?’ said her father. ‘There is an entire college to question, I think. You see her out, Gilbert. I go to find John Shaw.’

Gil roused the pup and they walked down the shadowy tunnel to the yett, Alys’s pattens clopping on the paving-stones. There was movement in the porter’s small chamber, but the man did not appear. At the yett Gil paused, and pushed the animal towards her.

‘I have not forgotten my promise,’ he assured her. ‘If you wish to take part in the hunt, you shall do so, outside the college. I wish you could help inside as well.’

She put up her face for his kiss.

‘Some day there will be a college for women in Glasgow,’ she said composedly, and bending to take the dog’s collar led it out into the street. The effect of her parting speech was completely spoiled by the wolfhound, which, realizing it was being separated from its new hero, dug its paws into the mud, squirmed from her grasp and flung itself yammering back at Gil, with Alys in pursuit. Gil, laughing in exasperation, bent to gather the animal into his arms.

‘Leave the beast with me,’ he said, avoiding its passionate and muddy demonstrations of relief.

‘I think I must,’ she agreed, laughing with him. Her laughter faded as a mounted party went up the High Street, spurs jingling, and Gil paused in the gateway to watch them go, looking past her in dismay at the pack-mules laden with mud-splattered bales and boxes. ‘What is it? What have you seen? Is it the Montgomerys?’

‘No, not the Montgomerys,’ he said, in slightly hollow tones. ‘We have less time than I thought to get this sorted out. I know those riders, and I’d know the bay with the two socks if I met him in Jerusalem. Those are my mother’s outriders. She’ll be in Glasgow by tomorrow night.’