The Harper's Quine (24 page)

He turned away from the bed, lifting his uroscope and
scrip of medicines, and paused in the doorway to bestow
a blessing on all present. Alys, with a quick smile at Gil,
followed to see him out.

Davie lay back against his pillow as if he would dissolve
into it, and said weakly to the maidservant, ‘What was it?
What’s come to me, Kittock?’

‘You hit your head,’ said Gil, moving forward. Davie’s
eyes flicked to him and back to Kittock. ‘I found you.’

‘I dinna mind that.’

‘Don’t fret about it,’ said Gil. ‘It often happens after a
bang on the head. It addles one’s wits. You will find it
comes back bit by bit.’

The boy stared blankly at him.

‘Don’t fret,’ he said again. ‘And, no, you do not know
me. I found you.’

The yellowish face relaxed, and the eyes closed.

‘I think he’s sleeping, maister,’ said Kittock. Alys slipped
back into the room and lifted the bowl and spoon from the
floor by the bed.

‘We are to tell him as little as possible,’ she said. ‘Answer
his questions, but don’t add anything. He will be quite
childish for a while, Brother Andrew says.’

‘He’s away now,’ said Kittock, sitting down with her
spindle. ‘Is he still to be watched, mem?’

‘Until he is stronger, yes,’ said Alys. She went out, and
Gil followed her.

‘He remembers nothing,’ he said, drawing the door to
behind him.

‘And may never remember,’ she -answered. ‘Brother
Andrew says we still cannot tell how well he will mend. It
is clear he will be able to walk and talk, but his thinking is
still to recover.’

‘So we must continue to pursue the other girl.’

‘And quickly, before she too is knifed. I hope she has
really gone to Dumbarton.’

Gil glanced at the sky.

‘I must be gone. I am to meet your father in Blackfriars
yard after Terce, to look at where Bridie Miller was lifted
up.’

Alys paused on the fore-stair and turned to him with
that direct brown gaze. She was wearing the faded blue
gown again, and Gil found himself admiring the way her
hair fell across the tight wool sleeve.

‘May I come too?’ she said. ‘Not to stare at where she
died, never that - but you and my father learned such a lot
just by looking in St Mungo’s, and I would like to see how
it is done.’

‘About time, too; said the wiry Dominican in the porter’s
lodge. ‘I’ve turned away a many gapers this morning
already. It’s down yonder corner, my son, not the College
corner but the other one, and watch where you put your
feet.’

He gestured back towards the wall which divided the
small public graveyard from the back of the High Street
tofts. In the south-western corner, further from the friars’
obstreperous neighbour, was the clump of bushes Maggie
had described.

‘I suppose you saw nothing?’ Gil asked. Brother Porter
shook his head regretfully.

‘Nothing I can recall. A good few lassies wandered in,
with it being market, casual the way they do, trying to
pretend they’re not here, but no fellow with a foreign knife
came in when I was looking. I’d have chased him out of
that corner; the brother declared. ‘It’s hardly proper, what they’re doing in a kirkyard, but spying on decent lassies is
even less right.’

Thanking him, Gil made his way towards the place, Alys
behind him with her skirts held fastidiously up off the
grass.

‘This does not make sense,’ she said as they reached the
bushes. ‘The market is all down by the Tolbooth. Bridie
would have passed her own house to get here.’

Gil turned to stare at her.

‘Agnes Hamilton said the same thing. I never paid any
attention,’ he admitted. ‘So she must have accompanied
her killer here for some other reason, rather than have been
followed.’

‘And why come here to talk or - or anything else, when
there are prettier and more comfortable comers to be private with another person?’

‘We asked ourselves the same question in St Mungo’s,’
Gil said, gazing round him. ‘Ah - that trampled space.’

He picked a careful path between the bushes, inspecting
each one and the grass beneath it as he went. His movements stirred up wafts of a scent which made his nostrils
flare. It reminded him of a dyer’s tub, which he felt was
not surprising, but there were overtones which puzzled
him. He found himself thinking, with great clarity, of
Euphemia Campbell as he had seen her two nights since,
half naked by candlelight, wrestling passionately with her
lover.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Alys from where she
stood. He dragged his mind back to the task at hand.

‘Anything. Sign. Broken branches, trampled grass. There
will be very little of use, I suspect, the searchers have been
everywhere.’

‘Footprints? That kind of thing?’

‘Yes. In fact I can see prints of many feet, going in
different directions.’

‘That’s just like hunting, isn’t it?’

,it is very like hunting,’ said Gil. ‘I find myself trying to judge the mind of the quarry in the same way, as well as
identifying sign.’

‘There are fewmets here, too.’

‘I had noticed that.’ Gil was at the centre of the trampled
patch. ‘Now, I think this is blood. She must have fallen
here.’ He looked round, to see her buckle at the knees. ‘Ah,
Alys, I am sorry!’

Three quick steps took him to her side, but she was
already straightening up.

‘No. I am sorry. I was interested, watching you, and
forgot that that poor girl died here. It took me by
surprise.’

‘Do you want to go into the church? Perhaps sit down,
pray for her?’

I can pray for her here.’ She pressed his hand gratefully,
and moved towards the wall, skirts held up again. ‘Ugh,
more fewmets. And someone has been sick.’

“That’s odd.’ Gil followed her, to look down at the
unpleasant splatter. ‘Someone had been sick in St Mungo’s,
near where Bess lay.’

‘Do you think it is important?’

‘It might be, or it might be nothing.’ He turned his head.
‘Maister Mason. Come look at this. And I have found
where she fell.’

The mason, after a cursory glance, offered the opinion
that some girl was regretting St Mungo’s Fair.

‘What, last January?’ said Alys. ‘She would have
stopped throwing up by now, father. It’s too soon for it to
be the effects of May Day, I suppose it could be from
Fastern’s E’en.’ She smiled a little tremulously at Gil, who
was gaping at her. ‘One has to know these things when
one runs a house, Maister Cunningham.’

‘And where did Bridie Miller lie?’ asked her father.

‘Here. You may step as you please, the searchers have
trampled everything. See, there is blood, though there was
none in St Mungo’s, but that may have been due to the
way she fell. I wish we had seen her before they took
her up.’

‘I think we should have come here sooner,’ admitted the
mason. ‘And have we found the beets yet?’

‘I can see them,’ said Alys, from where she stood by the
wall . ‘Under that bush to your left.’

Gil and her father both looked round without success.

‘No, that one there. The elder-bush with the low
branches.’

Gil pulled back the branches, to find a basket lying on its
side, a bunch of beets beside it.

‘Curious,’ he said. ‘It was never dropped here, under the
branch like that.’

‘It is more as if it was set down and then overturned,’
the mason agreed. He bent to lift basket and greenstuff.

‘Those little new ones are dear on the market just now,’
observed Alys. ‘Agnes will be glad to get them.’

‘I hope she washes them well,’ said Gil. ‘Do you suppose
Brother Porter has water at the lodge? I must get the smell
of this place off my hands.’

They turned, after a final look round, and began to walk
towards the buildings.

‘Now what must we do?’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘I need to get a word with the harper, and I must speak
to the other girls at the Hamiltons’,’ said Gil. ‘To ask if
Bridie had a new sweetheart.’

‘I could help you do that,’ said Alys hopefully.

‘If you can spare the time from your duties,’ said Gil,
‘I would be grateful.’

‘Talking of St Mungo’s,’ said the mason, ‘we found a
plaid.’

‘A plaid? Where?’

,is it hers?’ demanded Alys.

‘I do not know. It is black and green, quite vivid, and it
was folded up neatly in the lodge, up out of the way under
the roof.’

‘In the lodge?’ repeated Gil incredulously.

‘In the lodge. It seems Luke found it spread out on the
ground the morning all this began, Tuesday or whenever it
was, and folded it up and put it away all tidy.’ He looked from one to the other, well pleased with his effect. ‘He
never thought it might be important.’

‘In the lodge,’ said Gil again, thoughtfully. ‘On the other
side of the wall from where Bess died.’ He followed the
mason towards the gatehouse, abstracted. ‘Bess was in the
trees. Suppose she left her plaid there when she went into
the building site -‘

‘Why?’ asked Alys.

‘So John Sempill would know she was not far away? But
Davie and his new girl found it, and took it into the lodge
to make the ground more comfortable, and overheard -
part of the conversation? Bess’s death?’

‘And ran away in fear and were pursued? But I thought
we agreed it was someone else who struck the boy
down.’

‘Oh, it was,’ said Gil. ‘We have been very slow. It was
someone else, and he is still there, with his weapon.’

‘Still there?’ Maistre Pierre turned to stare at him.

‘I know,’ said Alys, pulling her plaid tight round her.
‘The tree.’

The tree?’ repeated her father, but Gil nodded.

‘The boy was running bent over, with his head down.’
He demonstrated. “That’s why the mark on the branch is
so low.’

‘He ran into the tree,’ said Alys. ‘And the girl ran on
and never looked back, thinking they were still pursued.
Maister Gil, you must find her. It becomes more urgent
every hour.’

‘Oh, aye, she had a new sweetheart,’ said Kat Paton. She
looked speculatively from Alys to Gil, and giggled.

Agnes Hamilton, when asked for the name of the girl
closest to the dead Bridie, had become flustered, counted
off her entire household one by one, and finally selected
this one. She was a small, lively, chattering creature, who
had eyed Alys warily at first but seeing no signs of pepper
had accompanied her willingly. She was not at all overwhelmed by sitting with her in the best bedchamber talking to a man of law, and Gil was having difficulty getting
a word in.

‘She told us all about it when she quarrelled with the
mason’s laddie,’ she assured them, ‘and she wept for him
a day or two, so she did, and then she cheered up. So
I asked her, and of course she said not, but I kept at her
about it, and finally she said she’d a new leman, and not
to tell anyone. So I didn’t. Well, not hardly, only Sibby and
Jess next door.’

Alys, with fewer qualms than Gil, cut briskly across
this.

‘Did she tell you anything about him, Kat?’

‘Oh, no. Well, she wouldn’t, would she? But I think
maybe he had money. He gave her a great bunch of ribbons for May Day. Only he wasn’t in Glasgow on May Eve
for the dancing, so she said she’d mind the kitchen if she
could get away on May Day after dinner, and we all went
off and left her happy enough.’

‘Did she go out on May Day?’ Alys broke in ruthlessly.

‘Indeed she did, with her new ribbons in her hair, and
came back late. She wouldn’t tell me where she’d been, but
it had been good, you could tell.’ Kat giggled merrily, then
suddenly sobered and crossed herself. ‘She’s dead, poor
soul, and no in her grave yet, I shouldn’t be talking about
her this way.’

‘When did she first meet him, do you think?’ Gil asked,
seizing his chance.

Kat looked up and made a face, shrugging her
shoulders.

‘Last week sometime,’ she said vaguely.

‘Can you be more certain than that? Had she met him on
Easter Monday?’

‘No,’ she said, and then more confidently, ‘no, for her
brother that’s a ploughman out at Partick came to see her.
And it wasn’t the next day, for that was the day we burned
the dinner. Nor the next, because …’ Kat giggled again,
but would explain no further. ‘I know!’ she said suddenly.
‘It was at the market last week. She came back looking
happier than she had since Good Friday, and she slipped
out again after her dinner and when she came back she
had the ribbons. And she saw him again on the Friday,’
she went on fluently, ‘but after that he wasn’t in Glasgow.
Not till May Day.’

‘What about yesterday morning?’ Gil asked. ‘Did you all
go out to the market together?’

‘Oh, yes. Well, not together, exactly, the mistress called
Bridie back to tell her where to ask for the beets she
wanted, so she was behind me a bit.’

‘And did you see her in the market?’

‘No,’ she said regretfully. ‘I was looking, for I wanted a
sight of her new man. I thought I saw her a couple of
times, but I was wrong.’

‘So you haven’t seen the new sweetheart?’ said Alys.

‘No. Well, just the once.’

‘And can you tell us what he looks like?’ asked Gil.

‘Just ordinary, really,’ she said dismissively. ‘Not as goodlooking as my Geordie,’ she added, and giggled again.

‘How tall is he? What colour is his hair?’ Gil persisted.

‘I never got a right look at him,’ said Kat evasively. ‘Just
a quick glance. I never saw his hair, for he’d a hat on.’

‘A hat? Not a blue bonnet?’

‘A big sort of green velvet hat with a feather in it,’ she
said, ‘all falling over his eyes. Daft-looking, I thought it
was.’

‘What else did he have on?’ Alys asked.

Kat looked shifty. ‘I never saw him very well,’ she
admitted.

Alys studied her for a moment, and then said shrewdly,
‘Were you somewhere you shouldn’t have been?’