J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

It was a strange thief who would leave coins behind, but perhaps he'd been scared off. Yet if that was the case, why had no one reported the murder? And why were there hoof prints nearby? That was off the road where riders would not normally be. And that horrendous wound had to be the work of a sword, or even a battleaxe. In fact, Law would bet on a horseman's two-handed battleae for that work. He didn't know many swordsmen who'd be able to nearly sever a man's head with one blow. That was harder to do than you'd think. He'd once seen a headsman take three blows to behead a traitor in France.

He stood and scratched the stubble on his cheek. If he'd known how this day would turn out, he would have shaved because it was always best to look respectable when you had to deal with the lord sheriff. He pondered that scrip lying on the ground, coins half-buried in brown pine needles. He would have liked to go for the town guard himself, but he couldn't trust anyone else to stay with the body and not interfere with it. Someone else would have to go while he stayed behind.

Why was it always he who ended up involved in these muddles? He'd had enough of blood and death in France.

Law retraced his steps over the fence and across the yard to the tavern. It took some convincing and yet another groat, but the man who had finished his pottage at last agreed to go to the North Port and notify the guard. With a sigh, Law went back to stand with the body, as far from it as he could and still have it in sight, and wait, carefully refusing to track the hoof prints to see which way they went. It was none of his business. Let the lord sheriff deal with it.

A commotion from the direction of the tavern announced the arrival of Sergeant Meldrum. His voice carried across the yard and into the little stand of trees. "Aye, Una, Johnne here said you had need of me." Una mumbled something. "What? In the trees? Show me then."

There was more commotion before he said, "The rest of you bide here. Una, you too. You'll be no good climbing over fences." He appeared between the trees, large and red-faced, his white moustache bristling, and thumbs tucked into the wide leather belt of his official blue gown. When he came within sight of the body, he came to an abrupt halt. Johnne slapped his hand over his mouth and nose, his face turning a pale green. He stared and then turned and scrambled toward the tavern.

"Och. If it is nae Sir Law Kintour himself. And what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

A town guard behind Meldrum caught sight of the body and crossed himself.

"Mistress Wrycht out at the carterage past Tower Port hired me to look for her husband. He'd gone missing," Law said. "And it looks like I found him."

Meldrum squatted next to the body. "Aye, 'tis the man." He looked up at Law. "When was this she hired you to look for him?"

"This morning. I talked to a few people…" Law described his search for the dead man. "At the tavern, Una said she did nae ken the man, but most likely she did. I'd wager that was where he came of an evening."

Sergeant Meldrum tilted the head, frowning over the horrible slash, and then he stood and went to the scrip. He picked it up and the scattered coins. He scratched his chin. "Matt," he said to the guard, "go to the tavern. I saw a hand cart in the back we can use. We'd best get this body out of here."

The guard scrambled back over the fence toward the tavern. Meldrum crossed his arms and studied the body. "It might have been a thief after his siller," he said doubtfully. "Though why they left it…"

"You might talk to everyone in the tavern and see who was here night before last. Someone must have heard something. I doubt this was done silent. And there are hoof prints over there fresh enough that they may have been made by whoever kilt him."

"Aye, he probably got in a fight with the wrong man. That is more likely. It had to be someone good with a weapon, though, and not a dagger, that's plain. But I cannae be running about hither and yon asking questions. I have a whole burgh to watch and to ward. And one of the priests from Saint John's will have to go give Widow Blacader the news."

That was a task Law was glad to be relieved of, but then he would have to go see whether she would indeed still pay him. He breathed a skeptical huff through his nose that made Meldrum glance at him.

Before the sergeant could say anything, the guard called from the fence that he had borrowed the hand cart and it was waiting in front of the tavern. Meldrum grimaced and said, "You found it, so you can help me carry it thon." Of course the sergeant grabbed the feet, which left Law to the head. He loosened Blacader's cloak and used it to wrap his lolling head. Between them, they heaved it over the fence and across the yard.

"No doubt the sheriff will call an inquest in the morn. I expect he will ask if anyone heard anything then. He will find out if anyone in the burgh kens how he got here. Then his goodwife can have him buried decent."

Meldrum told the guard to pull the cart, and they set off, nodding to Una as he passed where she stood watching in the doorway. Law watched and caught the words made by a sword stroke and Sergeant Meldrum's Aye, that is what it looks like .

Una was tight-lipped, with her arms clasped tight across her chest. Law opened his mouth to ask her again about the dead man, but then he changed his mind. Another murder was the last thing he needed to be involved in, and the lord sheriff wouldn't be likely to take well to his interfering anyway. So with a last glance at her, he strode, head down in thought, back through the port into the burgh.

Sir William Ruthven of Balkernoch, lord high sheriff of the royal burgh of Perth, past forty, balding but still with shoulders like a bull, in good purple velvet furred with marten, stood on the dais at the far end of the main vaulted chamber of the tolhouse, surveyed the gathering, and scowled.

"Sergeant, there is too much riffraff here for my liking. We shall need to clear the hall before this assize is over." He turned to his clerk, who was laying out parchment on the nearby table. "Bring four or five more men in just in case we need them."

"You did nae tell me to keep out the riffraff," Meldrum said indignantly. He turned and strode away, grumbling under his breath. After a word from him, one of the two guards standing by the trestle table in the center of the hall where the body was laid out beneath a linen drape scurried out.

The lord sheriff glowered at the loudest comments that were coming from a group standing around the foot of the table. Law recognized the voluptuous Una in the midst of one group, wimple wagging as she talked to a man he hadn't seen before. What is that about ? he wondered. Well away from that group, Mistress Wrycht, or Widow Blacader as she was now, was dressed in a dark gown and wearing a black mourning cap and veil. She stood with her son, Tam, silently looking on, her face drawn as tight as a bow; with them was a girl in a loose checked gown-the usual dress of a Highland woman-whom Law expected was a maid and Andy. Packed into the room but standing separate from the others were the merchants such as Seamus Og Flimeaan, who stood waiting to see whether he was called to serve on the assize. Crowding in were dozens of idlers, apprentices, and laborers escaping their work for free entertainment.

Sergeant Meldrum mounted the dais, lifted the silver-gilt burgh mace, and bellowed for the gathering to be silent. The guard returned, half a dozen armed men following, and the assize began. Law had long since learned that these proceedings were never fast, the longest part often being selecting fifteen assizers to whom there was no objection. As they squabbled over who was fit to serve, Wulle elbowed Law and thrust his chin to near the door where Cormac slouched against the wall. In order not to raise the sheriff's ire, they quietly eased their way through the crowd.