Pat McIntosh - The Nicholas Feast

Gil opened his mouth to speak, but was forestalled.

‘Ask yourself, my lord,’ said Maister Forsyth very gravely, ‘who else had much to lose by William’s legitimation. If your brother’s first marriage stood, his second became invalid.’

Hugh Montgomery stared at him for a moment. Then, dawning horror in his eyes, he swivelled to look at his nephew standing against the wall.

‘Robert?’ he said hoarsely.

There was a pause, in which they all followed Montgomery’s gaze. Then Robert nodded, gulping, and Gil realized the boy had been weeping silently for some time.

‘I–I — ’ he began, and then, gaining control, ‘He was boasting of it! He was crowing at me, uncle, how he would be my father’s heir and Hughie and I and my sisters would be bastards and my mother in mortal sin.’ He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. ‘It was more than anybody could bear.’

‘So when you saw the chance to kill him secretly, you took it,’ said Gil.

Robert nodded again, and suddenly stumbled forward and dropped to his knees at Hugh Montgomery’s feet.

‘Will I hang for it, uncle?’ he whispered.

‘Will he?’ said Alys.

‘Probably not,’ said Gil. ‘I think Montgomery will win. Besides, the boy knows his neck-verse.’

They were seated close together in the hall of the house in Rottenrow, their elder kin about them and the wolfhound asleep on the bench beside Gil. The evening sun was sliding in at the open windows, raising gold lights in the tawny new-honey shades of Alys’s hair and shining on the silk braid which trimmed Egidia Muirhead’s everyday headdress of black velvet and fine black linen.

‘The Dean was very angry,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘Montgomery was angrier still,’ Gil observed. ‘All his promises of vengeance have been set at naught.’

‘It will do Hugh Montgomery great good,’ pronounced Lady Egidia in her fluent French, ‘to recognize that he may be at fault in something that touches him so closely.’

‘Pour us some wine, Gilbert,’ commanded the Official, ‘and tell us all about it. I wish to hear the whole story.’

‘And I, indeed,’ said the mason as Gil moved obediently to the jug and glasses set on the carved cupboard by the hearth. The dog woke and scrambled down to follow him. ‘I thought we were trying to get a confession from the priest. I was as startled as Montgomery when the boy came forward.’

Gil handed his mother wine. She accepted it, then reached up and gripped his good hand tightly, smiling, but did not meet his eye.

‘But what will happen to the boy?’ pursued Maistre Pierre.

‘His uncle will deal with him,’ said Gil, handing more glasses, the dog at his knee.

‘Can he do that?’

‘Montgomery is justice on his own lands,’ said Canon Cunningham. ‘This touches him very close, as you say, Gelis — victim and evil-doer are both his kin, both recently under his tutelage. Properly it should go to be tried at Edinburgh but I have no doubt he will find a pretext for settling the matter privately in his own courts.’

‘He certainly wasn’t going to let anyone else settle it, least of all the University,’ agreed Gil, thinking of the long and painful scene in the Principal’s great chamber after Robert had confessed, ‘and though I suspect the Dean was prepared to argue the point, I’d put my money on Montgomery on this one.’

‘He could of course turn Robert over to the Church rather than the State,’ Canon Cunningham said thoughtfully. ‘The penance for what he did should be heavy enough to satisfy anyone.’

‘And Father Bernard?’ asked Maistre Pierre.

‘No doubt the Order will pass its own sentence on him,’ said Gil, sitting down again beside Alys. She tucked her free hand under his and smiled at him. The wolfhound jumped up, and settled firmly with its head on his knee.

‘If that creature thinks it’s a lap-dog,’ Gil’s mother commented, ‘you’ll be in trouble in two or three months.’

‘When did you know it was Robert?’ Alys asked. ‘When were you certain?’

He looked down at her.

‘When McIan was talking about his son, and I realized we had proof,’ he said. ‘It was obvious from early on that Father Bernard had some hand in the matter. The way he was lying made that clear. But it also seemed possible Robert was involved. He was one of the people William approached on Sunday morning. I couldn’t see that he had more reason to kill his kinsman than anyone else, until we found the marriage document this morning. And then, when I stepped out from the funeral, I met McIan and his sister in the Blackfriars yard. They were talking about the baby, and Ealasaidh remarked on him throwing his food everywhere, and I remembered how some of it got on your gown.’

‘The belt that smelled of cumin!’ said the mason.

‘Exactly Robert was serving at the high table after William spoke to him. I saw him. His hands must have been shaking, for he nearly spilled the spiced pork on Maister Forsyth, and some of it must have got on his skin or his cuffs, then or later.’

‘And then he heard that his enemy was shut helpless in the limehouse,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘He did insist to his uncle that he went down to bargain with the other boy,’ said Lady Egidia, ‘and only thought of killing him when he saw he was still dazed.’

‘That makes a difference,’ said the Official. ‘Though perhaps only in canon law.’

‘So Father Bernard,’ said Alys slowly, ‘must have looked out of the lecture-hall and seen Robert coming from the limehouse. But why should he think anything was wrong?’

‘Something about Robert’s bearing may have alerted him. After all, he knew William was shut in there.’

‘Ah!’ said the mason. ‘He had overheard those who put him there.’

‘Exactly So he left the lecture-room, as if heading for the kitchen-yard and the privy, and went into the limehouse, and found William newly dead. He must have taken time to check the purse, missed the papers it held under the coin or simply found the document he had already seen was not in it, and threw it behind the lime-sacks. Then he dragged the body into the coalhouse and locked the door, using his own key, to gain a little time. He went back and cancelled his lecture, and then went to search William’s chamber.’

‘Looking for the document?’ suggested Lady Cunningham. ‘But Gil, I thought Alys said all the papers had been removed from William’s chamber. Surely Father Bernard would know his own writing? Why take all the papers away?’

‘I know!’ said Alys. ‘He was pressed for time. Someone else might come at any moment. So he gathered up all the papers to go through them at leisure.’

‘Exactly,’ said Gil, smiling at her. ‘Then he gave them to Robert to put back, as your father overheard, and instead of doing so Robert put them in Jaikie’s brazier. I think from Father Bernard’s demeanour today that Robert may have made confession to him. He was determined to keep the boy’s actions secret.’

‘Did the priest then search the other two chambers?’ asked Maistre Pierre.

‘I think not. Those were turned over by two different hands. It was likely Robert who went through Michael Douglas’s things, and his friends’, and I would say Nick’s chamber was searched by Montgomery’s men, looking either for William’s notebook or for the coded letter, which Robert had discarded with the purse when he removed William’s belt to — to make use of it. Montgomery plays his cards close — he’s known more than he let on, right from the start.’

‘Though not who killed William,’ said the mason.

‘I have never seen Hugh Montgomery so chastened,’ said Lady Cunningham.

‘And then what?’ said Alys. ‘Was it Montgomery who attacked you? Why did Father Bernard go on lying? What did the porter’s death have to do with it?’