Pat McIntosh - The Nicholas Feast

‘So he was,’ he agreed at length. ‘He’s aye so sneisty it takes your mind off what he has to say. He never answered you straight, save to say he didny kill Jaikie.’

‘Which I never thought,’ added Gil. ‘If anyone, I’d suspect his uncle.’

‘I’d put nothing past the Montgomery,’ said Maister Kennedy. ‘It’s a quarter-hour to dinner, I’d best go and wash like the scholars. How are you, Gil? Who was it attacked you? They didny kill you, anyway. Oh, I near forgot,’ he added. ‘Maister Doby asked would you go by his lodging and tell him what you found.’

Dean Elphinstone glared at Gil and Maister Doby impartially.

‘If someone can step in off the street and kill our porter, a man carefully selected by our Steward here to ward the gate,’ he added, with a brief bow towards John Shaw who was frowning as he tried to keep up with the incisive Latin, ‘how are we to keep forty scholars safe, not to mention their regents and the college servants? We need to know, Gilbert, whether this was a deliberate act of vengeance on this man, or the result of a quarrel, or an attack on the college itself.’

‘Or an attempt to reach one of the scholars,’ suggested the mason in French.

The Steward looked worried, but the Dean nodded, and continued, ‘The man was impertinent and unsatisfactory, but he was a college servant and we are responsible for him. Have you discerned any likely reason for this violent death? Are you able to pursue justice for him?’

‘It was not theft,’ said Gil, ‘since that bag of coin I gave you was hidden in his bed, and probably not an attack on the college. Beyond that, Dean, I can only speculate at present.’

‘And what do your speculations tell you? Surely one proposition is more likely than another,’ said the Dean.

‘I hope not an attempt to reach one of the scholars,’ said Maister Doby. ‘No, surely not. None of our students would attract such enmity.’

‘William did,’ said Gil. There was a short silence, in which the bell began to ring for the college dinner.

‘Do you hold, then, that the one death is connected to the other?’ asked the Dean, in the exasperated tone of a teacher who cannot see where his student’s error lies. Gil spread his hands, and flinched as his bruised wrist twinged.

‘I think we must assume that they are connected,’ he said, ‘although it is not obvious how, simply because it defies logic that, in a community as small as the college, two violent deaths in two days should be unconnected.’

The Dean snorted, but made no answer. Through the open window they could hear a buzz of voices as the students who lived in the outer courtyard made their way towards the pend.

‘What else must you ask?’ said Maister Doby. ‘Do you need more from us, Gilbert? I must go and say Grace for the scholars.’

‘I need to speak to Father Bernard again,’ said Gil, ‘but I suppose I must apply to Blackfriars to find him, and I would be grateful for a little of Maister Shaw’s time.’ He nodded at the Steward, who smiled doubtfully.

‘Father Bernard had a lecture,’ said the mason.

‘He’ll have finished that,’ said the Dean. ‘You’re right, he’ll be back in Blackfriars by this. Aye, go and say Grace, Principal, and I’ll follow you. The Steward can come back here once he’s convoyed you into the hall, can’t you no, John?’

They all rose and bowed the Principal and Steward from the room, and as the door closed behind them the Dean sat down and said in sharper French, ‘Give me your suspicions, Gilbert, Maister Mason. Where are you at with finding William’s murderer, first?’

Gil looked at Maistre Pierre.

‘We haven’t had an opportunity to talk this through,’ he admitted, ‘for it’s been an eventful day already. We have established that William was given to extortion, which should point us to a suspect, but most of the people whom I know he had approached were in plain sight of one another at the time when I believe he was killed.’

‘Conspiracy?’ said the Dean.

‘Is always possible,’ Gil agreed.

‘It seems clear,’ said the mason, ‘that the boy got into the limehouse as a matter of mischief rather than malice.’

‘But after that we are less certain of the course of events.’

‘So all you’ve done is show who couldn’t have killed him?’

‘So far, yes.’

The Dean grunted. ‘Well, if you go on that way long enough, you’ll end up with one man, I suppose. You will have heard that William’s burial is tomorrow after Sext?’

‘I have,’ Gil said. ‘We are searching diligently, Dean, and we may well know a lot more by then. If you are willing to invite Lord Montgomery into the college after the burial, then even if I can’t name the boy’s killer as he demanded I can at least explain what conclusions I have reached by that time.’

‘I suppose that might placate the man for the time being.’ The Dean glared at them both again. ‘And this newest business? The death of our porter? What did you mean about speculation?’

‘Just that. We spoke to the scholars, and established the time of death. We searched the man’s chamber, and found the bag of coin which is now in Maister Doby’s strong-box, which must be Jaikie’s savings, all in coppers as it is, and we found a great bundle of William’s lecture-notes which someone had put in the brazier. There’s nothing else to point our direction, so we must speculate.’

‘St Nicholas’ bones!’ said the Dean. ‘Jaikie was burning William’s lecture-notes? How did he get hold of them?’ He paused, looking from Gil to the mason and back. ‘Are you saying it was Jaikie killed William? How could he leave his post without being seen?’

‘No, I think not,’ said Gil. ‘William was killed and moved into the coalhouse by someone who knew where he was hidden. Jaikie would have no way of learning that and acting on it, in the time available.’

‘So was it Ninian and his fellows?’

‘No,’ said Gil. ‘They say they left him in the lime-house, and we found evidence which confirms their story. I am reasonably convinced William was alive when they left him.’

Dean Elphinstone snorted, and got to his feet.

‘I must go to the Laigh Hall if I am to get any dinner today. Where do you dine, Gilbert, Maister Mason? Do you have time for dinner?’

‘Our dinner awaits us at my house,’ said the mason. ‘But there was the matter of a word with John Shaw.’

‘Oh, aye.’ The Dean led the way out into the courtyard. ‘I’ll send him back to ye, if he’s in the hall. Let me know as soon as you’ve anything to report, Gilbert. We must write to the Archbishop soon, whether or no we’ve found the answer.’

‘I know that, sir.’

The Dean sketched a benediction for which they both bowed, and strode off across the grey flagstones, his everyday woollen cope billowing at his back.

‘I am glad he is on our side,’ said the mason doubtfully, then, as the Dean stepped aside to allow someone to emerge from the pend, ‘Ah, there is John Shaw. Poor man, he has all to do and too many masters telling him how. Good day, John. It is good of you to spare us a moment.’

‘And what a day, maisters,’ said the Steward in harassed tones. ‘How am I to ward the college now, I ask you? Jaikie was a dirty ill-tempered beffan, but he did his duty, and now I’ve to find a replacement before Vespers, and his chamber like a fox’s den to be cleaned out before the new man’s in place — ’

‘Ask Serjeant Anderson,’ Gil suggested. ‘He might recommend one of the constables to act as porter for a day or two. He’d know if they were trustworthy. Or would the Blackfriars have a lay-brother they could spare?’

‘The Serjeant …’ The Steward tasted this idea. ‘One of the constables? Maybe. Maybe you’re right, maister. Aye, I’ll do that.’ He looked suddenly more cheerful. ‘And how can I help ye, maisters? Was it something you wanted done?’