J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

"I dinnae ken, but I'll be glad to reach home. And I'll drink enough ale to cure the ache in my head."

"So next time I say to ride for town, you should do it."

Cormac glared at him, and they rode in silence until the walls of Perth rose before them. They had barely passed through the gates when the bells of the churches tolled vespers. The setting sun was casting long shadows as they left their horses at the stables where they had rented them and trudged wearily up Watergate Street and then took Mill Street. Cormac's chamber lay one stair up, down a vennel off Mill Street. Cormac gave Law an odd look when Law turned to go with him to the stairs to his chamber he shared with a constantly changing group of other minstrels. Law stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful. Watch your back."

For once Cormac did not brush off Law's warning. His mouth drawn into a thin line, he said, "I'm nae sure who is the more dangerous, our friends or our enemies."

"Both are dangerous, but for the nonce, our 'friend' with a battle-ax is who we must watch for."

Cormac scowled. "I dinnae like any of it." He turned and stomped up the stairs as Law continued to Cullen's tavern and home.

When he opened the door, Wulle was saying in an irritated tone, "I telt you he has not returned."

Anny pointed toward him where he stood in the doorway.

"Och, I have but just now." Wulle and Meldrum turned to gawk.

Mall lifted a long spoon from the steaming pot she was stirring over the hearth to wave at the sergeant and said, "That one has been worrying at us like a terrier at a foxhole. There was ill news whilst you were gone."

The tavern had a comfortable smell of stewed beans and bacon and malty ale, but Law was sure that Meldrum was going to interfere in his enjoying them.

"Aye." Meldrum pursed his lips beneath his bristling mustache. "Where have you been?"

"Glasgow. And we stopped in Stirling on our way back. We had an eventful trip, you might say. What happened here?"

"Not here, thank the Virgin," Wulle said. "The place has been peaceful, and it will stay that way."

"He meant in Perth, you numpty," Meldrum said. "That alewife, Una-someone attacked her."

Law groaned. "I'll need a cup of ale for this." He went to a table near the hearth and sank onto the bench, leaning his elbows on the table. "How badly was she hurt?"

Meldrum joined him and waited until Wulle drew two mugs of ale and Anny brought them. He drank deep and then said, "Someone had been at her for a while, knocked out most of her teeth. Her hands were smashed, and it looked like mayhap he gave her a kicking. She was unconscious when Iain found her and never woke up. It was early in the morn before the tavern was open, but Iain the smith was passing on the street heard her scream. He raised the hue and cry, but the attacker escaped."

"Attacker…?"

"Aye, Iain said he could nae put a name to the man. He ran through the field, took to horse, and disappeared."

Taking a drink, Law mulled the story over. "Could the smith describe him?"

"A big man, he said, but from a distance he could nae say exactly how tall. And he was running away, so Iain did nae see his face."

"Morn, you said? This morn?"

Meldrum shook his head. "The day before yester morn."

"And yesterday as we were nearing Stirling, Cormac and I were attacked. The man who led them…" Law squinted as he thought. "It was three men and the leader was a big man, though it's hard to say exactly how tall he was. They were ahorse. He was wielding a battle-ax, too."

Wulle had come over to listen and exclaimed, "The two of you fought off three men?"

"We were hard-pressed, but a troop of the king's guards came within sight. One we took captive, but the other two fled." Law told Meldrum all that their captive had said. "You ken of anyone who goes by that name of Matt and fits that description?"

Meldrum shook his head, his forehead furrowed. "It sounds like mayhap he did nae learn what he wanted from Una, so he sought you. He tore the place apart. Every table was knocked over, the straw in her mattress dumped out."

"She said that Blacader wanted more than ale when he came there but did nae get it. But I had my doubts she was telling the truth. If she lied, then it is just possible he gave her whatever this Matt is seeking."

"But he did nae find it," Wulle said, motioning to Anny to bring them more ale, and took a seat beside Law. "Or he would nae have come after you. Or it seems so to me."

"Would he have had time to search? If this Iain raised the hue and cry, he may have fled before there was time."

"In the tavern?" Meldrum said. "That would be an ill hiding place, any road."

"Or mayhap in her chamber. It's worth taking a look to be sure he did nae miss something."

The sergeant grunted, sounding a bit skeptical. "It cannae hurt. But we still dinnae ken what we're searching for."

"It has to be a paper of some kind, or he would nae have searched the papers in Blacader's kist, aye?" That would have to be explanation enough, since there was no way he'd tell of the encounter in Glasgow. "You did nae search when you found her body?"

Meldrum shrugged his heavy shoulders. "I looked about a bit, but there was nothing to find that I saw."

"That may be, but I have to be sure. So I'll go look on the morrow." He turned to Mall. "Hen, would you put a bowl of your braw bean pottage on my chit? My mouth is watering from the smell."

His stomach grumbled so loudly that Wulle laughed.

The bells ringing prime woke Law, and bars of light coming through the shutters cut the murk of the room. He groaned as he rolled out of bed. A few days of riding and wearing armor had left him sore as a whipped pup, but he had no time to lie about. He had to figure out where this mysterious letter had ended up.

He threw open the shutters and let in the morning light. During the night there had been a heavy rain, but now it had stopped, and the sun dyed the clouds rose and gold in the east. He shivered in the damp wind but left the shutters open to blow away the cobwebs from his brain. He took his bath from a bowl of cold water by the window, washing the sweat and grime of the road from his face and body with a soapy rag, He rinsed and toweled off. His body was covered with goose bumps, but after the icy winter, it was nothing. It had taken time after he returned from France to get used to the cold, and he still felt it more than he thought that he should.

He quickly pulled on his linen undershirt and drawers, woolen doublet, and tights. It felt good to be out of the heavy cuirass. He shook his head. He was getting soft.

Decently covered, he sat on the windowsill to think. It was not much of a view. The tavern lay about halfway between the River Tay and the town wall. Perth's houses ran up the hillside two and three stories high, mostly thatched roofs but some of slate, cutting off the view. On the other side of the houses and wall, completely cut off from his sight, lay the suburbs of Perth.

The wet breeze carried the scent of peat smoke but also of green trees and even a hint of flowers from somewhere. It was going to be a lovely spring morning, one too nice to spend thinking of murder and wracking his brain to solve a stubborn puzzle-like where was that letter? If Blacader was supposed to deliver it that night he met his death, would he have wanted it close at hand? He had good reason not to trust the man he was meeting, but he would have wanted to be able to lay hands on it easily.

Below, the tavern had stirred to life. He heard voices calling for mugs of ale, and thumps and clatters of platters as Mall and Anny set out bannocks and rounds of cheese. He wanted to get some while it was still warm from the griddle, so he pulled on his boots and made for the door, pulling his gray woolen cloak from the peg as he went.