The Nicholas Feast (Gil Cunningham Murder Mystery)

by Pat McIntosh

  ‘Did the priest then search the other two chambers?’ asked Maistre Pierre.

  ‘I think not. Those were turned over by two different hands. It was likely Robert who went through Michael Douglas’s things, and his friends’, and I would say Nick’s chamber was searched by Montgomery’s men, looking either for William’s notebook or for the coded letter, which Robert had discarded with the purse when he removed William’s belt to – to make use of it. Montgomery plays his cards close – he’s known more than he let on, right from the start.’

  ‘Though not who killed William,’ said the mason.

  ‘I have never seen Hugh Montgomery so chastened,’ said Lady Cunningham.

  ‘And then what?’ said Alys. ‘Was it Montgomery who attacked you? Why did Father Bernard go on lying? What did the porter’s death have to do with it?’

  ‘Jaikie’s death was a crossed scent,’ Gil admitted. ‘I think it was the result of a quarrel between Jaikie and Doig, who were both involved in the information-gathering. Montgomery said he had heard an argument when he came to the college at noon.’

  ‘But he saw nobody,’ objected Maistre Pierre.

  ‘Montgomery was talking to Jaikie, not searching the place, and the room is poorly lit. I surmise that Doig had hidden under the bed. He would fit in there quite well.’

  ‘The marks in the dust!’

  ‘Precisely And the dog-kennel smell that Michael noticed. Then when both Montgomery men had left, Doig emerged and killed Jaikie. Possibly the fellow had threatened him in some way. We may never know – Doig has run and the University has no serjeant or armed men to send to bring him back.’

  ‘No doubt they will make a note at the next meeting,’ said Maistre Pierre, ‘that if he comes back he is to be charged with the porter’s death.’

  ‘He will probably turn up on one of Montgomery’s holdings,’ said Lady Cunningham.

  ‘And Montgomery and his nephew, though they didn’t lie outright, were each stretching the truth for fear the other had knifed the porter, which led me to assume that neither had done so.’

  ‘That will also stand in Robert’s favour,’ said the Official.

  ‘And Father Bernard was protecting his favourite pupil’s son?’ prompted the mason.

  ‘One of his sons. I wonder which way he would have jumped if William had survived, with his threats?’ Gil cast his mind back over the several interviews he had had with the chaplain. ‘He was protecting the other boy, but he was also trying to cover his own back. The Church will not be pleased to learn of Alexander’s marriage to his cousin. How close were they, mother?’

  ‘First cousins, if I recall. Much too close to marry without dispensation. And Robert’s mother, poor woman, is a Stewart, no closer than fourth cousin, and brought the family some useful land in – in –’

  ‘The Lennox,’ supplied the Official.

  ‘The one I feel sorry for,’ said the mason heavily, ‘is that wretched creature Ralph.’

  ‘Patey Coventry was to break it to him,’ said Gil. ‘And I think Nick was going to organize an unofficial game of football, since the quodlibet disputation had to be cancelled.’

  ‘What is a quodlibet disputation anyway?’ asked Alys.

  ‘It starts with a serious question – I think Patey was to propound it, and Father Bernard was to answer – but after that has been dealt with the scholars are allowed to ask more frivolous questions of the regents, provided they aren’t obscene or defamatory. It’s always unexpected and sometimes it’s good entertainment.’

  ‘I recall one,’ said Canon Cunningham, straight-faced, ‘in which John Ireland – yes, I am sure it was John Ireland – was asked what he would do if he found himself standing on the moon. Mind you,’ he added, ‘he spoke for near half an hour by way of answer, and I think he brought in the duties of sovereignty and the Doctrine of Atonement. The bachelor who asked it regretted it. But it seems, Gilbert, as if the young man’s death was a family matter rather than being related to his spying and extortion.’

  ‘The spying was not connected,’ Gil agreed. ‘So I kept it out of the argument so far as I could. No sense in angering the Montgomery more than was necessary. As for the extortion – well, if William had been a different person, he would have responded differently to the news of his legitimacy, and Robert might not have felt the need to act to protect his mother and siblings.’

  ‘Montgomery as good as admitted he had attacked you,’ recalled the mason, ‘while you were losing to him at cards.’

  ‘Losing? Gilbert!’ said his mother, in some amusement.

  ‘It was deliberate,’ he said. ‘We were exchanging information, a question for every trick, and I don’t think he realized how much his questions gave away.’

  ‘You never asked him your last two questions,’ said Maistre Pierre.

  ‘I did,’ said Gil, ‘this afternoon, while Robert was packing his goods.’

  He hauled the wolfhound further on to his knee, and it turned to lick his hand. He scratched the corner of its jaw, recalling the awkward conversation. Strangely diminished, the angry fire in his eyes banked down to a dark glow, Montgomery had stared hard at Gil, then had suddenly come out with, ‘I canny thank ye for this day’s work, Cunningham.’

  ‘I’d not expect it,’ Gil had answered him. ‘I’m aware I’ve done you no favour, my lord.’

  ‘Did ye ken, yesternight? When we played at the cards? Was this where all your questions were leading?’

  ‘No at the time,’ said Gil. ‘I only pieced it together this morning.’

  Montgomery grunted, ignoring the Dean, who was attempting to catch his eye.

  ‘I owe ye yir two last questions,’ he said at length. ‘I pay my gaming debts. Is there still aught to ask?’

  ‘Do you pay your legal debts?’ Gil asked hardily. ‘Do I get a fee for this?’ Montgomery’s right arm moved involuntarily, and Gil prepared to dodge a blow. ‘And what of the pup? What will happen to him?’

  ‘The pup?’ The other man grinned mirthlessly. ‘You can take the brute for your fee, then, Cunningham, and I wish you joy of it.’

  ‘Will you say that again before witnesses, my lord?’ asked Gil formally. Montgomery nodded impatiently, and gave Gil another diminished stare.

  ‘I’ll tell ye something else,’ he said abruptly. ‘For another fee, if ye like. I saw your father fall, on Sauchie Muir in ’88.’

  ‘My lord?’ Gil had said, shocked.

  ‘I didny strike him down,’ Montgomery continued, ‘never fear, but you may be proud of him. He dee’d well. You minded me of him this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Gil had answered, swallowing hard. ‘Thank you indeed.’

  ‘No trouble,’ said Montgomery ironically, and swung away across the room as his nephew, escorted by Maister Forsyth and Maister Coventry, returned with his bulging scrip and an armful of books. ‘Aye, Robert, bring your books. You’ll have plenty leisure for them.’

  Behind Montgomery, Lady Cunningham had risen in her crackling silk to come forward, seizing Gil’s elbow as she passed.

  ‘Your uncle has the right of it,’ she said quietly. ‘That lassie thinks just as she ought. There are great advantages for you in this marriage, Gil, I see that now.’ Before he could speak she had let go of him and moved on to corner the Dean, saying, ‘Patrick, I want to talk to you.’

  ‘And I had a long word with Patrick Elphinstone,’ she said now, with the expression of a cat over a dish of cream. ‘He’ll mention your name when he reports to the Archbishop, Gil. He feels you dealt with the whole affair very discreetly and quickly, and I hope he’ll make sure Robert Blacader shows his gratitude properly.’

  Did Patrick Elphinstone know he felt that before she had a word with him? Gil wondered, and smiled across his uncle’s hall at her, in affectionate admiration. The Dean had flinched from her a little as she crossed the room, in just the way his father used to. I’ll pass on to her that encomium on my father, he thought, but not here, not now.

/>   Instead he said, ‘Montgomery has given me the dog. A valuable fee.’

  ‘You must name him then,’ said his mother, ‘if only so you can order him off the furniture.’

  ‘What will you call a wolfhound?’ asked his uncle. ‘Birsie? Bawtie? Lyart, like the one your father kept?’

  ‘There was only one Lyart,’ said Gil firmly. ‘William called him Mauger . . .’ The dog looked up at this, and his stringy tail twitched. ‘But I don’t like that so much. No, I know exactly what to call him, with his long nose and his solemn face.’

  ‘I know too,’ said Alys, laughing.‘Socrates!’

  ‘You saw the likeness too?’ he said, turning his head to look at her.

  ‘Yes – the figure on the hangings behind Father Bernard. And William gave him a scroll to carry, as well! Though I don’t think William would have been convincing as Philosophy,’ she added.

  ‘No, the metaphor doesn’t stretch that far,’ agreed Gil.

  ‘Oh – metaphor!’ said the mason. ‘So the dog is yours, and his name is Socrates. Well, I have heard worse things to shout across the Dow Hill. And now tell me, madame. How did you and my daughter and her governess manage to arrive, like the Muses or the Sibyls or three goddesses in a cart of clouds, at precisely the moment it needed to break the impasse? I truly think, if you had not appeared, we could have been there yet with the priest denying everything and telling nothing.’

  Lady Cunningham exchanged a look with Alys across the room. They smiled.

  ‘I must say,’ Gil agreed, ‘Pierre is right, mother. I was beginning to doubt whether either Father Bernard or the boy would ever break.’

  ‘I was surprised to recognize the laddie himself admitting us,’ she said. ‘I thought you would have kept him under your eye.’

  ‘His uncle wanted him present,’ said Gil, ‘so I had no need to insist. Your timing was superb, and your contribution was wonderfully apt. Had you been waiting in the outer room all that time?’

  ‘Lord Montgomery knew we were there,’ said Alys. ‘I could see him wondering what our business might be.’

  ‘It was obvious that we could assist, so we assisted,’ said Lady Cunningham simply.

  ‘Speaking of Robert our Archbishop,’ said Canon Cunningham, drawing a paper from the breast of his long gown, ‘as you were this moment, Gelis, I had a letter from him this morning in the bag that came to St Mungo’s.’ He unfolded it, and settled his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. ‘A scrape in his own hand, what’s more, none of your secretary copies. He sends that he’s minded to do something for you, Gilbert, after the other matter you sorted out, about the bairn’s mother, and that he has two suitable posts in mind, each with a living attached, and he’ll tell us more when he knows which is free.’

  ‘Let us hope his gratitude is cumulative,’ said Maistre Pierre.

  ‘It sounds promising,’ said Gil. He looked down along his shoulder at Alys, and she smiled quickly at him, then looked away in sudden shyness. ‘We won’t starve, then.’

  ‘Well, if all else fails,’ said the mason, ‘you may set up a pavilion in my courtyard, and Alys may continue to oversee the household. Then I can send you the broken meats from the dinners Alys cooks for me.’

  ‘That might not be such a bad idea,’ Gil said, struck by it. ‘Perhaps not a pavilion, in a Glasgow winter, but we could live somewhere about the place, if you had space for us.’

  ‘You’d be in the midst of the burgh,’ said Alys, ‘and you could hang out your sign as a notary and get the passing trade.’

  They looked at each other. There was what seemed to Gil a long pause, as if time was standing still; then Canon Cunningham said in resigned tones, ‘We ’ll have little sense out of either of them the rest of the evening. Take that dog into the garden, Gilbert,’ he ordered, raising his voice slightly, ‘and we’ll get a look at the last few points of that contract while you’re gone. If we can all agree on the wording, it should be ready for signing by the time you can hold a pen.’

  The garden was warm in the evening light, full of scents of green stuff and damp soil. A blackbird was singing from the top of the roof, and the occasional sweet, heady waft from the bean patch further down the slope reached them as they walked slowly along the gravel path, Socrates ranging round them.

  ‘I want to invite Dorothea,’ said Gil, and paused at the gap in the hedge to look out over the burgh. Another blackbird shot across the view, calling in alarm, and the dog turned his head to watch it, ears pricked.

  ‘To the marriage, you mean?’ He nodded. ‘That’s your sister who is a nun,’ she recalled.

  ‘That’s the one. And my other sisters as well, I suppose,’ he added.

  ‘We have no kin in Scotland,’ she observed, ‘but we have friends in plenty in the burgh. It may be a very great feast.’

  ‘Soon?’ Gil said hopefully. He drew her to a stone bench by the hedge, and Socrates came and sat at her feet.

  ‘Soon,’ she said. ‘As soon as we can arrange all.’

  ‘And as soon as we’re certain we have enough to live on,’ he said ruefully. He took her in his arms. ‘But Alys, what did you say to my mother, to make her change her mind?’

  She turned within his clasp to look at him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I wanted to speak to her. I thought I would assure her of my duty too, just as you said.’ He nodded. ‘So I dressed in my best, and took Catherine, and we had the horses brought and rode up here.’

  ‘That took courage,’ he said.

  ‘No, no, for she was perfectly civil to me yesterday, Gil. And so she was today. Maggie served wine and cakes, and I said what I had come for, and then I said I hoped Our Lady would send that we would give her grandchildren, and that we would both wish her to have an eye to their upbringing.’ Gil tightened his arms about her, and she looked down, then shyly up at him again. He bent his head to kiss her. After a while she went on.

  ‘Catherine talked genealogy with her for a long time. Perhaps it was that,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘I think they found a connection somewhere, though it involved three marriages.’

  ‘What, between your family and mine?’ he said, alarmed. The wolfhound looked at him anxiously, then put his nose down on his paws again.

  ‘Between Catherine’s and your mother’s,’ she reassured him, her elusive smile flickering. ‘Don’t worry, we won’t need a dispensation.’

  ‘Praise Heaven for that!’

  ‘Amen, indeed. And then your mother asked me about this matter – William’s death, and the messages, and the spying. I told her what we knew, and she saw that what she knew about Father Bernard could be of use to you. So she also put on her best gown, and we went down to the college. But that was all we discussed. I don’t know what made her change her mind.’

  ‘Garneist with governance so gude Nae deeming suld her deir. She had brought that court dress with her?’ said Gil. Alys nodded. ‘She keeps it for great occasions. I wonder if she came prepared to be talked round?’

  ‘She certainly seems to favour the marriage now.’ She giggled. ‘And I haven’t heard my father making flowery compliments like that since we left Paris.’

  Gil grinned. He had not yet had time for a private conversation with either Maistre Pierre or his mother. By the time he had extracted himself from the University she and Alys had already returned to Rottenrow, and when he and the mason arrived at the house in mid-afternoon she had come down in her everyday clothes to greet them, closely followed by his uncle. The compliments Alys referred to had gone in all directions, even Canon Cunningham making stately puns which not everyone noticed.

  ‘So we can be married soon,’ he said again.

  They sat close in silence for a while. Gil found his mind ranging back over the day again, and further back, to the feast and all its consequences. Some of those young men at the University would be worth keeping an eye on. Ninian Boyd was probably destined to be a small laird and a good master, but the Douglas boy was promi
sing, and Lowrie Livingstone was a very interesting character. Was I like that at seventeen? he wondered. Did our teachers look at Nick and me with that resigned expression? He thought of the Dean, glowering at Alys across the room, and then of Maister Forsyth, who had intercepted him just before he left the college.

  ‘That was a very impressive discourse just now,’ the old man had said, in the same tone in which he had commended Gil’s last disputation outside the crumbling chapel of St Thomas. ‘You made all clear to us, grounded it in the truth and showed us the inevitable conclusions without fear of an armed adversary. The outcome is grievous for all of us,’ he admitted, ‘but Justice is a harsh mistress, and you have served her well.’ He smiled at Gil’s stammering response. ‘It’s a great pleasure to a teacher, Gilbert, when a student continues so far beyond what one has taught him. And that is your bride,’ he continued, without waiting for a reply.

  Gil nodded, bracing himself for a gentler response to the old man’s adverse comments than the remote politeness he had used on Sunday against the Dean.

  ‘A very good choice,’ said Maister Forsyth, nodding. ‘Clever, discreet and modest. A very good choice for you, Gilbert, and I wish you happy with her.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Gil had said ineptly, and bowed. His former teacher had acknowledged the bow and moved off, leaving Gil staring after him.

  The clever, discreet and modest girl in his arms, her thoughts clearly mirroring his, turned to look up at him, putting up one hand to cup his jaw, brown eyes glowing in the last of the sunlight, and said, ‘You know, Gil, that was quite magnificent. In the Principal’s lodging, I mean,’ she expanded. ‘All those learned old men, and you telling them what happened and making all clear to them. And Lord Montgomery was so threatening, and you never flinched from him. I’m glad I was present.’

  He turned his head to kiss her palm.

  ‘I’m glad you were present too,’ he admitted, ‘for I’d never have got so far without you. You deserved to be there.’

  ‘We make a good team, I think,’ she said diffidently.

  ‘None better.’ He kissed her palm again, then ran one finger lightly round the scooped neckline of her gown, over the fine linen of her shift, and she shivered. At their feet, the wolfhound turned his head to look at them, then ostentatiously rose and lay down again with his back to them, sighed, and laid his nose on his paws. In a small corner of his mind Gil was aware of his dog’s actions, commended the animal’s patience and admired his discretion.