Pat McIntosh - The Nicholas Feast

She twisted her head to look. ‘Quite certain. I went over it several times.’

‘What is it?’ asked Maistre Pierre.

‘There’s been a rumour of this.’ Gil handed the papers to his prospective father-in-law, took another bite of the pasty, and chewed thoughtfully. ‘Michael mentioned it earlier. My uncle thinks it won’t harm Angus with King James, who likes him, but Chancellor Argyll is a different matter.’

‘And the Montgomery has his ear,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘Exactly And proof of the correspondence — I wonder if the letter he saw is genuine?’

‘There is a truce with England just now, is there not?’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘Quite so. But Angus is neither a councillor nor an ambassador, he has no authority to be dealing with King Henry. Proof of the correspondence could damage him badly, and the Cunninghams don’t want that, not just now.’

‘And who is M?’ said Alys. ‘It can hardly be Montgomery himself.’

‘It could be Michael,’ said Gil thoughtfully, ‘but when he spoke to me I did not get the idea he had seen such a letter, much less shown it to William.’

‘How can you say the King likes Angus?’ objected the mason, looking up from the letter. ‘He stripped him of his Lanark honours and all his holdings in Teviotdale, only last Yule.’

‘But then he gave him the lands and lordship of Kilmarnock,’ Gil pointed out, ‘in the hope that he would live in Ayrshire and put down Hugh Montgomery and his arrogance, which is no doubt why my kinsman is marrying his daughter. Angus goes on pilgrimage with the King, and they play cards together. Angus’s countess is a Boyd, from Kilmarnock and those parts,’ he added. ‘She is some kind of cousins with my mother.’

‘Do you think someone killed William because he knew this?’

‘This or something else. It’s possible.’

‘Where did he get all this from?’ Alys wondered. The mason cut himself a slice from the wedge of cheese on the tray and popped it in his mouth, watched intently by the wolfhound.

‘Here and there?’ he suggested. Alys glanced briefly at him again, expressionless.

‘Very possibly,’ said Gil. ‘Not all of this is new. The marriage has been known in my family for some weeks, though the settlement is not common knowledge, and the matter of the old title is very cold kale. Only Angus’s letter is fresh news. I do not like this.’

‘So does it seem William was killed by a supporter of the Douglases?’ asked Maistre Pierre. ‘The boy Michael, for instance?’

‘Michael has witnesses to show he was elsewhere,’ said Gil, and was aware of a strong sense of relief. This would not be a good time to accuse my mother’s godson of murder, he thought. But spying for the Montgomery? ‘No, I think if this had been the immediate cause of William’s death the letter would have been removed from his purse. We must leave this piece in play, but it doesn’t check anything.’

‘So what must we do now? Make a list of the pawns?’

‘Precisely All those on whom William tried his extortion.’

Alys, without comment, drew a pair of wax tablets from her pocket and opened them. Smoothing the wax with the bone stylus which fitted in the box, she said, ‘Do we begin at the top? Did William approach the Dean?’

‘I hardly think the Dean would like to be referred to as a pawn,’ said Gil, ‘but yes, write him down, though I don’t know that William spoke to him privately. I know he did speak to Maister Doby, and there are the two men of law — that’s Archie Crawford and David Gray.’

‘But they all swear to each other,’ objected the mason.

‘I know.’ Gil frowned, trying to recall names. ‘Nick Kennedy swore in my hearing he’d throttle the boy. Patrick Coventry. Maister Forsyth. That’s all the regents I can think of. John Shaw the Steward.’

‘Father Bernard,’ said Alys, writing carefully.

‘He denied that William approached him,’ said Maistre Pierre. Alys glanced at him again, and went on writing.

‘Now the scholars.’ Gil took another draught of ale. ‘Michael Douglas. Richie — now what is his name? Write down Richie Scholar, Alys. And I suppose Ninian Boyd.’

‘Any more?’

‘Agnes Dickson and one of the kitchen hands. Tam, I think his name is, like my uncle’s man.’

‘The boy’s friends?’ suggested Maistre Pierre. ‘That poor Ralph and the young man Montgomery.’

‘Yes, if you think Ralph has the gumption to do such a thing. As Nick said, I’d put nothing past the Montgomery, but Robert was in the kitchens with Nick Gray.’

‘Laughing a vengeful laugh,’ said Alys. Her father looked startled.

‘Who else?’ Gil wondered. ‘It must all be in the book, which we must look at next.’

‘That makes sixteen names,’ said Alys.

‘The porter?’ suggested the mason. ‘This elusive dog-breeder?’

‘The dog man was at the door,’ said Alys. ‘I’m sorry, I had forgotten. He came by this afternoon asking for you by name.’

‘Did he so?’ Gil stared at her. ‘What did he want?’

‘He asked after the dog. He was supposed to take it back to his kennels yesterday morning, but he didn’t get it before William died. Its keep is paid for, it seems.’

‘And he is worried by this?’ asked the mason. Alys flicked him another glance, and tightened her mouth.

‘I thought he was concerned for the dog,’ she added to Gil. ‘About its food, and whether you had collar and leash for it. I assured him you were well able to rear and train a hunting dog, and he went away.’

‘Collar and leash?’ repeated Gil. He reached into his doublet. ‘We found a collar and leash in the press in Jaikie’s chamber.’ And was this the collar Dorothea meant in my dream? he wondered.

‘The dog’s, do you think?’ said the mason. ‘Certainly the boy Livingstone assumed it.’

The pup stood up to put a paw on Gil’s knee, and sniffed carefully at the strips of leather.

‘He recognizes it,’ said Alys.

‘And I recognize the badge on the leash.’ Gil held it out. ‘I’d say it was a piece off someone’s bridle, put to good use, and look what’s stamped on it. Little fish-tailed crosses, all along the leather.’

‘The cross of St John,’ said Alys.

‘Oh!’ said her father, craning to see. ‘And where has that come from, do you suppose?’

‘Anyone may use a second-hand bridle,’ said Alys thoughtfully.

‘I think they were gilded.’ Gil tilted the leather so that it caught the light. ‘This has been expensive work.’

‘Something the dog man had by him?’ said Alys.

‘I had best go and speak to him,’ said Gil. ‘It sounds as if he feels responsible for the beast.’ He glanced at the sky. ‘It’s still an hour or more to Compline. I can go down there after we finish making this list.’

‘And what about the porter’s death?’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘Michael Douglas again,’ said Gil, ‘and Robert Montgomery and his uncle Hugh.’

‘I know where my money lies,’ said the mason. He cut himself another slice of cheese. Gil did the same, and shared it with the dog.

Alys, writing names, said, ‘So two people are on both lists.’

‘My own thought is that Hugh Montgomery killed Jaikie,’ said Gil, ‘though I have no firm knowledge of why, but the two scholars were also at the yett without witnesses shortly before he died.’

‘The Montgomerys will bear witness for each other,’ observed the mason.

‘My point precisely,’ said Gil.

‘Do all these names remain on the list?’ asked Alys, surveying it. ‘I am sure you said these two were under your eye, and these four, no, five remained together.’

‘I am certain of Nick Kennedy and Maister Coventry,’ Gil agreed. ‘The group of five all swear to one another, so unless we impute conspiracy as well as secret murder to the senior members of the Faculty, we must cross them off. A pity,’ he added, ‘for they were the only ones who ate the spiced pork, apart from Jaikie and the kitchen hands.’