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Authors: Shirley McKay

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Legal, #Crime, #Historical

BOOK: Fate and Fortune
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‘Not yet awhile, I hope!’

‘You might think of it though. You are what, twenty-six? Hew, I hardly like to ask you this, but as your man of physic I presume that I might mention it …’

‘Ah, now that sounds ominous. This will hurt me, I can sense it; don’t put on your doctor’s cap!’

‘I’m serious, though. You say your lass was apt to share her close affections …’

‘Aye, to be more blunt, she spread them thin.’

‘Then she has left you nothing, I suppose, that should concern you? No boils or pustules, sores? You have been in health these past few months?’

Hew stared at him in astonishment, and then broke out laughing.

‘And I did not know you better, Giles, I should take offence! What then, do you take me for? Colette has wounded nothing but my pride.’

‘Ah, I am glad to hear it. Still, if I examine you, twill only take a moment, and you let down your points. It will set your mind at rest.’

‘It does not need setting at rest. Giles, I am astounded that you ask this at my father’s funeral. I assure you, there is nothing of the sort that should concern you. I am well; Colette was well, and we have not consorted for the past six months. Though wherefore I should tell you this, as doctor, friend or brother – shortly to be none of those, if you pursue this course – is far from clear to me.’

‘Forgive me, Hew, I have forgot myself. In truth, I have forgotten
you
, which is the worse offence. The fact is I have seen so many cases of the Spanish fleas of late that it has fouled good sense.’

‘Ah, the
Spanish
fleas! Therein lies your error, for the lass was French.’

‘The Spanish fleas is but a name, tis known here as the verolle or the grandgore, or the Spanish pox; the Spanish call it the Italian disease, the Frenchmen call it
espagnol
and the English call it French, the
morbus gallicus
. It Italy they know it as the maladie of Naples, save in Naples where …’ Giles postulated seriously. Then he caught Hew’s smile. ‘You’re teasing me, my friend. It’s good that you are home.’

‘Aye, tis well,’ Hew clapped him on the back. ‘Tis well you take my word on it, and do not bid me draw my pistle at my father’s wake. Let us leave the subject. How is Nicholas?’ Hew remembered his old friend. ‘Is he not here tonight? Why then, is he worse?’

‘In one sense, he is worse,’ Giles answered cautiously. ‘In truth, not
wholly
worse, though not improved. He is frail still, quite frail. For want of good warmth and sunlight, his humours run cold. Since you saw him last, it may be said, in some respects, at least, his health is worse. And yet he is not dead. And since he is alive and has survived the winter and the winter oft does carry off the weakest and the sick, and since he was disposed to die the last time that you saw him, then you might conclude him somewhat better now. Aye, he is quite well. And will be glad to see you.’

‘And I him,’ Hew muttered, too baffled to smile.

A Winter’s Tale
 
 

As the party began to disperse, some to find a bed, and some to drink and gossip through the night, Hew found himself alone before the fire. He was closing his eyes and was almost asleep, when a slight cough disturbed him. The lawyer, Richard Cunningham, smiled apologetic ally. ‘Forgive me, Master Cullan, I did not mean to startle you. I had hoped to offer my condolences, apart from present company. Yet you look so peaceful here. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.’

Hew struggled to his feet. ‘I pray you, stay a moment,’ he answered wearily. ‘My cousin Flett was rude to you. I hope you will excuse him. You are welcome in this house.’

‘His words are of no consequence. I meet many men like him. But I wanted to say to you simply, and privately, how much I regret your father’s death. He was – though I should hesitate to say it to his son – almost a father to me. Years ago, when first I did come to the bar, he oversaw my steps. I might say, he shaped me. I have felt his loss.’

‘You were his pupil?’ Hew was moved by the simplicity of his expression. There was a gentleness in the man’s manner that appealed to him, reluctant as he was to be drawn in conversation.

‘I could have had no better teacher.’

‘Thank you, sir. Your words bring comfort. I have thought, these past hours, how little I have known him.’

‘You were always in his heart.’

‘Has my sister seen to your needs here?’ Hew changed the subject abruptly. The advocate bowed.

‘She has been too kind. Your bed is soft and clean. And yet I must confess, it troubles me to take it from you; you have travelled hard, and through the snow, and you have lost a father; and for all its comforts I may not rest easy while I take your place. Will you not share it with me?’

Hew waved a hand. ‘Certainly, no, I shall sleep here. The lamps are lit, the fire is warm; I shall not want a bed. I pray you, sleep easy, as I shall.’

He would not want for sleep; he felt beyond exhaustion, longing to close his eyes.

‘Here, with the servants and dogs?’ the lawyer looked sceptical. ‘You are master of this house. Besides, if I might mention it, you look ravelled to the bone, and your cousin Flett is like to drink into the night. The clamour will disturb you. Come with me, rest in the quietness; or, if you will not, then share a private drink with me, without these distractions. I will not trespass on your thoughts.’

‘You are kind, sir.’ Hew felt the waves of weariness consume him, and he allowed Richard to lead him out like a child into the stillness of his room.

‘Your servants have been good enough to lay a fire in here. Come, sit by the brazier. You’re shivering.’

The lawyer called for drink, settling Hew in close beside the fire. With the solace of good wine, Hew felt refreshed.

‘Shall I leave you to sleep?’ Richard asked politely.

‘I think I will sit awhile. Stay, if you will.’

‘In truth, I should prefer to. For I’m weary now myself.’ Richard loosened off his collar. ‘Ah, these clothes! I know not what they starch this with, tis stiffer than the jougs! The servant has arranged your room most prettily. Do I detect your sister’s touch?’

Hew acknowledged it. For there was lavender among the rushes on the floor, and petals on the sheets, that scented fresh and sweetly; and the water in the bowl that bubbled by the fire was seasoned with dried flowers and fragrant herbs. Two candles were lit in their cups on the wall, not tallow but beeswax, dimpled and new, and on the fresh-laid sheets his mother’s crimson counterpane turned back upon their crispness made him want to weep, so achingly familiar in the candlelight. His books were there, brought from his boyhood, his laver, his inkstand, and pens.

If the lawyer had observed how all this had affected him, he chose not to remark it, rinsing his mouth in the warm scented water, wiping his beard on the cloth.

‘Your father,’ he reflected, ‘might have served the Crown, if he had stayed. No doubt your mother’s death affected him. And yet we never understood why he retired.’

‘My sister was unwell,’ Hew answered woodenly. ‘We came here for her health.’

‘So I have heard.’ The lawyer let the question drop unasked. He sat upon the counterpane, tugging at his shoes. Presently he ventured, ‘You’ll permit I call you Hew? I knew you as a child.’

Hew nodded warily.

‘I wish to ask you something. Now, perhaps, is not the time, but tomorrow … well, we shall be occupied, and it is the nature of my business, that I may not linger long. Tis only recently that I renewed my old acquaintance with your father, since my boy was come here to the university. And I was sad to find him in decline. Nonetheless, I was fortunate enough to spend a little time with him before he died, and as fathers will, we discussed our sons.’

Hew had stiffened. If the lawyer noticed this, he chose to pass it by.

‘And we were both proud fathers, I am not ashamed to say. It will embarrass you, no doubt, as it would do my own boy, to hear how we indulged ourselves. Yet you will permit my saying, for tis meant as a kindness, that your father was most touching in his pride for you. He hoped that you might follow in the law.’

‘I know it,’ Hew said heavily, ‘and I have tried the law. That much my father knew. I am not disposed to like it.’ He stirred in his chair, setting down his cup.

‘I understand. Perhaps I ought not to presume to put my case. No matter, though. The fact is this: If you were to consider the law as your profession, then nothing would please me more than to take you for my pupil and to oversee your coming to the bar. You are, I
understand
, full learned in the civil laws, and ripe for your probation. None would be more welcome in my house.’

Hew was silent a moment. His eyes were low, upon the fire. Quietly, he said, ‘You are too kind.’

‘Do not speak of kindness. I may not pretend that I am half the man your father was. Yet if I could impart to you, the half I learned from him, I might serve you well. In modesty, I hesitate to mention this, but my regard has influence. The position of king’s advocate is not beyond my reach.’

Cunningham’s tone was earnest, unaffected, and Hew softened his response. ‘I know your reputation, sir. The honour you impart is
undeserved
. I would not, for the world, have done you a discourtesy. But I must protest again, I am not suited to the law.’

The lawyer nodded. ‘Your father thought otherwise. But there again, we may be blind to our children’s predilections. All too often, it would seem, we cast them in our moulds. Now there’s my own boy begged to be a cabin boy,’ (despite himself, Hew smiled), ‘and here I’ve gone and put him to the university.’

‘Ah, but then you knew he would not care to be a cabin boy,’ Hew objected shrewdly.

‘Did I though? But how? No matter, now. I am resolved, I shall not try to sway you, nor take offence if you decline. Do not make your answer yet awhile. Only, may I ask you, why you are so set against the law? You have spent many years in study. Was it all for nought?’

‘I cannot readily explain it, sir, without I prick old wounds. I once had a friend indicted for a crime, a heinous crime, that he did not commit. I knew my friend was innocent, and I had proofs, and knew the law, and yet I could not prove it by the law, wherefore I do hold it in contempt.’

The lawyer was listening intently. Urgently he asked, ‘Your friend was hanged?’

Hew shook his head. ‘I set the whole before the king, who pardoned him.’

The lawyer smiled. ‘Which tells me you have wit, and may well serve the law, when you well understand it. I wish I had had your insight, when I was your age. Yet we are alike. For something of the sort befell me too, some twenty years ago. I was a probationer, working with your father, in the tolbooth of St Giles. I was an arrogant lad, subtle, I confess, and I had learned the law and all its tricks. I could not wait to play them for myself. I saw the law as sport, and took delight in it, like racquets in the caichpule, batting back and forth. Your father had his chamber in the close among the notaries; I work there still, though in those days I shared lodgings in the low shade of the kirk, and now my house looks down upon it from the hill. But then, the world ahead of me, I was proud and eager, and
ambitious
for success. The first case I defended on completing my probation was almost, I might say, a
friend
. He was one of the writers who worked in our row, who prepared our papers and made notes for us. And he was privy in this role to rare and secret documents. We knew him as a meek and modest man, whose life consisted solely in the functions of his office, and a sober, fond devotion to his wife and child. Well, there was at this time a great lord taken for a spy, imprisoned in the castle at Blackness and due to stand his trial. You will permit I cloud the details; they are secret even now. But on the day before the trial, documents were brought before his gaolers that sanctioned his release, a pardon in what seemed our queen’s own hand, that bore her signet seal. He was released unto his friends and thence to England, where he pursued his plot against our Crown. The pardon was a forgery, the gaolers tricked; and the signet seal was traced to an old letter in our writer’s rooms. He had trimmed it with a knife and stuck the seal afresh to calculate his forgery, and it was neatly done.’

‘But he was guilty, then?’ concluded Hew. ‘Why did he do it?’

‘I can only guess for profit. He would not confess. And to the last, he did protest his innocence, which made it all the worse. He begged us to defend him. This modest little man, who spelled our writs so patiently, with whom we shared our drinking on a quiet afternoon, came begging to our chambers, pleading for his life.’

‘But was my father there? What was his part in this?’ Hew pursued uneasily.

‘He was otherwise engaged, and could not take the case. And so it came to me, the wretched man so grateful it was touching to behold. He fell upon his knees and kissed my hand. And standing up alone there for the first time in that court without your father’s counsel … I confess that I failed him. I did not argue well, I could not make a case; in short, the man was hanged.’

Hew shook his head. ‘Consider he were guilty, then it was not your fault. And if the man was innocent, then that must prove my point about the law.’

‘I did not consider it. I knew that I had failed him. For I had been afeared and flustered in that court. I was afraid, in truth, I should be tainted with his crime, who must defend the
man
, and not the fault. The charge was treason, after all. And yet there were no proofs, for he did not confess, no witnesses came forth, another could have found that seal, and stole it from his room. I should have made his case, and I could not. Then afterwards … Afterwards I went to your father and I told him what had happened. He spoke to me with such understanding, with such kindness, that I swear it made it worse. But that was not the worst, for he insisted we attend the execution.’

‘My
father
did!’ exclaimed Hew. ‘That was not like him!’

Richard regarded him gravely for a moment. ‘I believe it was,’ he contradicted quietly. ‘For Matthew said, if we would know the law, then we must know the whole of it; and see the consequence of what it was we did. And while your father was most gentle, yet he was severe, and I was half afraid of him. He took me to the mercat cross and made me watch that poor man die, nor suffered me to look away until the last. I wish I might tell you, he died cleanly and bravely. But it was not so.’

Shaken, Hew murmured, ‘And yet you went on in the law?’

‘At first, I was resolved to leave it there and then. Your father did convince me I might turn my rage to good. And I did, though I fear not in the way he intended. Matthew thought an advocate might also have a conscience. In personal life, I would agree. But in the court, it’s different. The lesson I learned there, was not to fail.’

‘You do not persuade me to pursue you in the law,’ Hew said bluntly.

The advocate smiled. ‘It is the devil’s tale, I do confess. I know not why I told it. You are the first to hear it these past twenty years. The lateness of the hour, your father’s death, have moved me to break confidence. Let us blow out the light.’

He lay in his shirt beside Hew on the bed, and drew the thick curtains to close out the draught. The small fire beyond burned down in the darkness. The water in the basin had begun to ice and crack.

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