Pat McIntosh - The Nicholas Feast

‘An interesting ceremony,’ said Maistre Pierre behind Gil, as the Steward began to circulate among the mourners, issuing select invitations to the cold meats and ale waiting in the dining-hall of the University.

‘The college looks after its sons,’ Gil returned. ‘There wasn’t much smoke, because incense costs money, but we have a ready-made choir which doesn’t have to be paid, and plenty of breath for speech and singing. Ceremony comes naturally.’

‘Now what happens?’

‘I’ll tell ye what happens,’ said Hugh, Lord Montgomery. The tail of the procession vanished singing into the church, and as the remainder of the congregation drifted towards the gates he left the church wall and came closer. ‘You, Cunningham lawyer, are about to tell me whose work that is — ’ He jerked a thumb at the open grave behind him. ‘I warned you, and I warned the clerks in the college. I’m quite prepared to put them to the question one by one, starting with the youngest.’

‘I’ve no doubt of that,’ said Gil politely. ‘Shall we go? Maister Doby and the Dean are expecting us.’ He saw the slight widening of the eyes, and pressed the advantage. ‘Oh, aye, you mind I was asking you about William Doig the dog-breeder, my lord? Here’s a strange thing. Maister Mason and I saw the same man this morning, leading a cart over the Dow Hill, and his wife and all the dogs with him.’

‘The Dow Hill?’ repeated Montgomery in amazement. ‘Why should — why should the man’s deeds be any concern of mine? I told you before, I’ve no knowledge of him.’

‘So you did,’ said Gil, pausing at the foot of the grave. Montgomery bent and angrily threw in a yellow clod.

‘So it’s your problem, no mine, if the wee mimmerkin’s run,’ he added, wiping his hand on his jerkin. ‘Get a move on, man, I want to get a hold of Bernard Stewart before he takes refuge the wrong side of that wall. And we’ll have my nephew Robert present, since none of my sons is here at the college. He’s full old enough to be involved.’

‘How old is he?’ Gil asked casually.

‘Sixteen on St Lucy’s eve next. A man grown.’ Montgomery grinned evilly, and seizing Gil’s elbow hustled him into the church, just in time to see Father Bernard and the colleague who had deaconed for him, about to retreat into the enclosed portion of the church with the newly washed Communion vessels.

‘Bernard!’ roared Montgomery, in much the same tone as he had used to the dogs at his fireside.

Father Bernard jumped convulsively, and dropped the paten from the top of his chalice. It bowled away across the paved floor, pursued by the other friar and by Maistre Pierre.

‘My lord?’

‘To the college. Now.’

‘I have a disputation to prepare — ’

‘You’ll do as I bid you, or you’ll have more disputation that you’ve stomach for, priest.’

‘My lord,’ said Father Bernard with a spurt of courage, ‘I’m not your chaplain any longer — ’

‘For which we may both thank God and St Dominic. Are you coming or do I make you?’

‘You offer violence to a priest, my lord, in the sanctuary?’ exclaimed the other Dominican, returning with the paten.

‘No,’ said Lord Montgomery softly, ‘I’m no offering it. I’m promising it, if he doesny do as I say !’ he bawled.

Both men flinched, and Gil interposed in Latin, ‘Father Bernard, I am about to report to the Dean and Principal on what I have learned about the death of the scholar William Irvine. I think it might be proper for you to be present.’

‘I? For what reason?’

‘You are the college chaplain.’

‘Oh.’ Father Bernard closed his mouth over the large teeth and looked down at the chalice and paten in his hands. ‘Very well. Edward, could I ask you — ?’

‘I got the Steward to set aside a platter for us,’ said Maister Doby doubtfully, surveying the single wooden dish on the linen-draped trestle table in the great chamber of his house, ‘but there’s more folk here than I looked for.’

‘I could go ask him for more,’ suggested Maistre Pierre. ‘And wine also, I think. Where are they served? In the Laigh Hall?’

He bustled off. Gil, mentally dividing the food into portions, could not blame his friend. Like the Principal, he had not expected so many to be present, though it was hard to see who could be dispensed with. The five senior members of the Faculty, whom he had encountered here in this room less than two days since, had every right to be present. So had the Second Regent and Maister Kennedy. Hugh Montgomery, unfortunately, had even more right, and Gil did not feel like voicing any objection to either of the supporters the man had summoned.

At least we made him leave his retinue outside, he thought.

‘Well,’ said Montgomery, as if on cue, ‘are we to keep my men kicking their heels in the yard the rest of the day, or are we to hear this report?’

‘I feel,’ said the Dean more civilly, ‘that we should begin, the sooner to put an end to the matter, if this should be possible.’

‘And anyway there’s no enough food,’ said Maister Doby. ‘We can hear Gilbert and get a bite after.’

‘I am ready,’ said Gil. He watched as his audience settled itself before the painted hangings, the Dean and the Principal in two great chairs, the two lawyers with their heads together on stools next to them, Maister Forsyth on the padded bench near the window. The younger regents and the chaplain were seated off to his right, and in the corner near the door, in another chair hastily borne in from the Dean’s own lodging, glowered Lord Montgomery with his nephew standing behind him like a body-servant. On the hangings the philosophers, impassive, stared into the distance.

Tucking his thumbs in the armholes of his gown, speaking in Scots out of courtesy to Hugh Montgomery, Gil began.

‘I first set eyes on William Irvine when he greeted me at the college yett on Sunday morning. He was very civil to me, until he discovered I was a Cunningham.’

‘So?’ said Montgomery. Gil glanced at him, and beyond him at his nephew’s superior smile.

‘His nurse Nan Irvine had asked me to deliver a package to him, one which had come from the boy’s late mother. I handed it to him, and what with that and his height and the colour of his hair, he caught my attention a few times during the rest of the morning, in the procession and at the Mass and the feast. He seemed excited about something, out of himself in some way. Generally he was speaking to someone, but none of the people he spoke to seemed to be glad of it.’

David Gray was staring at Gil with that haunted look on his face again.

‘After the feast there was the play. William left the hall before it was finished, though he had several large parts.’ Maister Kennedy grunted, and stuck out his legs to cross them at the ankles. ‘None of his teachers saw him alive again, although he was not missed until an hour or so later.’

‘None of his teachers?’ Montgomery broke in. Gil nodded. ‘Then who — ?’

‘I hope it will become clear before long,’ Gil said. Montgomery glowered at him for a moment longer, then snarled, and gestured angrily for him to continue.

‘I was among those who searched. We found him lying in the college coalhouse. He had been strangled with one belt, and his hands were bound with another. His purse was missing, which might have meant robbery, but the coalhouse was locked and the key was not in the door. His death was certainly secret murder. I was commissioned and required to investigate,’ said Gil, bowing to Maister Doby as generally representing the college, ‘so Maister Mason and I inspected the corpse and began asking questions.

‘William had been dead about an hour when he was found, perhaps two or more by the time we examined him. He had been knocked down before he was killed, and there were fresh quicklime burns on his gown and scuff-marks on the toes of his boots, which were otherwise well cared for. There was nothing else on him or in his clothes to tell us more. The belt round his neck was his own, and had recently been handled by someone whose hands smelled of cumin. And other spices,’ he added scrupulously.