J. Tomlin - The Winter Kill

“That is most regrettable.” John Cameron pulled a sour face. He pointed impatiently to a nearby stool. Law rose from his knees, wincing at a twinge in his scarred left leg. “Especially since funds from rent of lands the song school owns are missing from the school’s coffer.”

“And there is the matter of the woman.”

Law started, for he hadn’t noticed Robert de Cardeny, Bishop of Dunkeld and Perth, standing at the window, looking out at the gloomy skies beyond. His long, solemn face was creased with worry.

Cameron spread his dark gaze across the far end of the dimly lit room as he pondered his words. A stand of candles and a blazing brazier cut the dark and the chill, but only a little. Law shivered as Cameron picked up a goblet from the table beside him. He took a long drink of the wine, the rich scent cutting through the smell of wet wool and sweat from a long, fast ride.

“The woman…” Cameron finished his wine and sat down the goblet, “she was a Ross?”

“Aye,” Law said. “A distant relation to the Lord of the Isles.”

“She had left Archibald Dunbar and become friends with Kennedy,” Cameron said disapprovingly. “What was the husband thinking to allow such a thing? Or the Earl of Dunbar not to keep his family’s affairs in better order?”

Law shrugged.

“It is urgent we discover what happened to Kennedy and where the funds are. The scandal…” Bishop Cardeny shook his gray head. “In all my years as bishop, I have never had such a scandal.”

“It will not be a scandal, Robert. I assured His Grace of that. We shall give the pope no weapon to use against us.”

Law kept his tongue between his teeth. He had heard there was a serious dispute between King James and the pope. The king had appointed Cameron as bishop of Glasgow rather than accepting the pope’s choice, and the disagreement between the king and the Pope was growing heated. Moreover, the king had proposed an Act of Parliament forbidding money from leaving Scotland for the church coffers in Rome. A man with good sense would stay well out of royal politics, and he considered his sense most excellent. He cleared his throat and asked, “Where were the missing coins kept?”

Bishop Cardeny gave Law a startled glance as though for a moment he had been forgotten. “In a coffer in Kennedy’s privy chamber.”

“If we could start at the beginning, sir,” Law said. “How was it found to be missing? When?”

Bishop Cardeny paused as though setting his thoughts in order, glancing around his comfortably furnished chamber, the table covered with a silk carpet, and the silver gleam of the candle stand. At last he said, “When I received word that Kennedy was dead, I at once sent my secretary to the school to act in Kennedy’s stead until I made a new appointment. I commanded him, of course, to survey the contents of the office. When he went to check the kist, it was unlocked and empty.”

“Could it be elsewhere in the school?”

The bishop shook his head. “The office and his chamber and then the entire school were searched. The rents had been collected on Michaelmas past as usual. They were a substantial sum. Brother Hugh confirmed that they were received. The records will be checked, but I have no doubt he spoke truly. In the few months since, little of that would have been used.”

“Enough coin that they would be difficult to conceal?”

The bishop tilted his head and thought about it. “Most like it would have fit in a good-sized scrip. If could have been concealed under a cloak or-” He frowned and shook his head. “But anyone going into Kennedy’s chamber would have been seen and questioned.”

Law wondered whether that were true. “I’ll need to see it for myself, sir.” He sighed. It was never a happy business giving powerful men bad news. “But I must tell you that Jannet was outside the Northgate Port because Kennedy sent her there himself. He admitted that to me. He sent her to retrieve something; he said papers to sue for dissolution of her marriage.”

“But?” Cameron made an impatient gesture for Law to continue.

“But she had no papers with her when she died, nor were such papers in his house.”

Cameron jerked his head up. “His house? Was he not a Benedictine?”

“He was a priest secular,” Cardeny replied.

The two bishops exchanged grim looks.

“So he had a house?” Cameron said. “I take it you went yon.”

Law nodded. “I searched it. As I said, there were no such papers in it. There was a kist containing braw clothing, a man’s, velvet and fur. It all looked new, and none was clerical garb, and there was an empty scrip large enough to be what you describe.”

Cameron slammed his fist on the table, making the candle stand shake. He watched as though daring it to tip over. When it had steadied, he turned to Cardeny. “I have a man who can poke about amongst the poor of the burgh to see whether anyone has coin who should not. That coin must have gone somewhere. Mayhap Kennedy had it with him and was killed for it.”

Law leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Unlikely that he would have carried so much on his person. And they would have had to ken he carried it. He had kept whatever his plans were secret from everyone…except mayhap Jannet. I am afeart the explanation may not be anything so simple.” He sighed. “And may be a scandal…”

“I am afeart you have the right of it,” Cameron said, “but I’ll not leave any stone unturned, so my man will check.”

Law grimaced. “Dave Taylor, you mean.”

In a cool tone Bishop Cameron said, “I ken no one of that name.”

“Ah.” Law stood. “If I may, I’ll go examine this kist and Kennedy’s rooms. As you say, sir, we would be wise to leave no stone unturned.”

Cameron gave Law a dark stare. “You are to report to me and no one else. This is a privy matter that matters greatly to His Grace the King. So keep your tongue still and come straight here when you learn anything.”

Law shared a deep bow between the two men. Bishop Cameron delivered a blessing with the hand not holding the wine goblet, and waved a dismissal.

In the doorway, he put a hand on the frame and paused. He had mentioned his conversation with Patrik Ross to no one. The timing might well have been right for Ross to have found Kennedy and killed him. But surely Kennedy was killed by the same person who killed Jannet. And Ross would not have killed his own daughter. Would he? Or perhaps there were two killers. Had Law been too fast to believe that Kennedy could not have gone out the night when Jannet was killed?

“Well?” Cameron demanded.

Law looked over his shoulder at the bishop. He opened his mouth but then closed it and shook his head. “Nothing, sir. I shall return when I learn anything.”

Beams of light from the windows of the Blackfriars Abbey broke the murk of the darkening day. The same grizzled friar as before-the porter, Law supposed-opened the gate when Law rang the bell for entrance. He frowned at Law and shook his head. “Patrik Ross did nae return last eve, if it is he you are seeking.”

“It is, but if he is nae here then I must examine the guesthouse where he bides.”

“What?” The friar reared back as though even the mention of such a thing was an attack.

Law held up a hand and smiled. “You cannae allow it; I understand. If you will find the prior or take me to him, this is a matter that he should deal with.”

The porter squinted at him suspiciously. “Why would the prior want to speak with you?”

Law sighed. “This is the bishop’s business, so I have no doubt he will want to.”

“Come with me then.” He grudgingly led Law across the wintery lawn past the Chapter House with its arched, carved windows to the refectory where the scent of fish cooking for the next meal filled the air. The prior, a short, compact man whom Law had first met those months ago when Duncan was murdered, was deep in conversation with another friar holding a thick sheath of papers. As he approached, Law caught the tail end of a conversation about the number of barrels of salt fish in the cellar.