Time and Tide

by Shirley McKay

  ‘I somehow feared as much,’ said Robert. ‘And when the deed is done, what do I next?’

  ‘Then you are your own man, and that is up to you.’

  ‘Is that so? And suppose that I fetch up one night, and come to Kenly Green, to chance my arm with Nicholas at chess, that offer of a place would stand?’

  ‘When you are ready, aye.’

  ‘Should you find you want a man, to drag you from the mire, and rescue you from bandits or the Inquisition?’

  ‘I cannot rule out that possibility,’ admitted Hew.

  ‘Then I will consider it, and let you know my answer in due course. Meanwhile, I will want some wedding clothes,’ said Robert.

  A few days after, coming to see Meg, Hew saw Clare Buchanan turning from the house, seemingly in tears. He hurried in to Meg. ‘Why has Clare been crying?’ he demanded.

  ‘I cannot tell you that, Hew! How can you think to ask?’ Meg answered in astonishment.

  ‘I thought it might be George,’ said Hew, by way of an excuse.

  ‘It is not George. George is whole and well, and safe returned to college. Clare came to see me on a personal matter,’ Meg replied oppressively.

  ‘How so, as a patient?’

  ‘A personal matter, Hew!’

  ‘Aye, then, wait a moment!’ Hew broke off. He ran out to the street. Clare stood listlessly, looking out to sea, by the old kirk of St Mary on the rock. She was no longer weeping, but her eyes were bright with tears.

  ‘Mistress, I am thankful to have caught you. My sister Meg forgot to give you this this.’ He handed her a packet of nun’s lace, which he had brought for Meg. ‘How beautiful!’ she cried, ‘but why would Meg have thought to give me this?’

  ‘I brought it back from Flanders, and Meg has far too much of it, and thought that it would bring you better cheer.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Clare. ‘Did she say that? But why should she say that?’

  ‘’In truth, she broke no confidence,’ Hew assured her hurriedly, ‘But are you of out of cheer?’

  Clare smiled at him. ‘Not now. It is a lovely thought. And yet I am afraid that I cannot accept it, for while it is most gracious, her gift is undeserved,’ she answered carefully.

  ‘I pray that you will not offend, in turning down her gift,’ said Hew.

  ‘Oh! Then I see I must not. In truth, I do not mean to cause offence. Tis only that the gift was . . . unexpected. This simple act of kindness brings me close to tears,’ Clare replied inaudibly.

  ‘The best gifts are the unexpected ones, for they come from the heart,’ insisted Hew. ‘I saw this lace where it was made by sisters in the convents; this one small corner takes a day to make, that would not make a corner for a pocket handkerchief.’

  ‘It is exquisite fine,’ accepted Clare. ‘And you may tell your sister I will treasure it, and wear it next my heart. I thank you, Hew, for you have cheered me up.’

  ‘Then I have done my task.’ He bowed to her. ‘My sister will be pleased.’

  He was whistling as he went back to the house.

  ‘Whatever is the matter, Hew?’ Meg demanded. ‘Do you come or stay?’

  ‘That is a fine way to talk, when I have brought you news, and presents, too, from Ghent,’ Hew flopped down carelessly into the gossip chair. ‘And how is Matthew Locke,’ he quizzed the sleeping bairn, ‘still pent in swathes of cloth?’

  ‘He is asleep, and well content, that you do not disturb him or rouse him to your boisterousness,’ said Meg. ‘What news?’

  ‘How like you! You must wait for it, for first we have the presents. Here, for Giles, an optic glass, and here for you, some lace. And Matthew has a linen cap, and yet I see that he is wearing three of them already, and a little knitted jougs to lock him to his crib. Perhaps he should have the optic, and Giles the linen cap, to keep for his old age.’

  ‘What piffle you talk,’ Meg answered fondly, opening out the packet. ‘This is beautiful, Hew.’

  ‘It comes from the begijnhof. And you have given some to Clare,’ Hew mentioned.

  Meg let the parcel drop. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I have cheered her up.’

  ‘What were you thinking of? You cannot give her gifts. For she is married, Hew!’

  ‘Which is why,’ he told her, ‘the gift comes from you. Hush then, and let it rest. The thing is done, forgotten in the corner of a handkerchief. You make a woman’s fuss, over a scrap of lace. I had not thought you were the jealous kind. Enough of these trifles,’ Hew moved smoothly. ‘To the news. Now this is like to please you. The harbour inn is to be sold, and Maude to marry Robert Lachlan, and travel with him overseas.’

  ‘Maude is going to marry Robert Lachlan,’ echoed Meg.

  ‘Aye,’ Hew smiled glibly, ‘isn’t it marvellous!’

  ‘Yes . . . no! She hardly knows the man. And he is a mercenary, Hew.’

  ‘Retired,’ corrected Hew.

  ‘And he is taking them to Ghent? Isn’t there a war on?’

  ‘It will be an adventure for them. Be happy for her, Meg. It is what she wants.’

  As soon as Giles appeared, Meg assailed him crossly, ‘Hew is quite impossible. I wish that you would talk to him, or else prescribe a purgative, for he has lost his wits.’

  The doctor did not break into his usual smile. ‘Indeed, I wish to talk to him,’ he mentioned ominously.

  ‘Then talk,’ Hew suggested. ‘I am here.’

  ‘Not here, but in private, at the college.’

  ‘That sounds very serious,’ said Hew.

  ‘It is serious.’

  ‘Then I am summoned, like one of your students. Am I in trouble?’ asked Hew.

  ‘Sincerely, I do hope not. Later, at the college.’ Giles turned his back, and abruptly left the room.

  Meg stared at Hew. ‘That is quite unlike him. What is it you have done?’

  ‘He has not told you?’ murmured Hew.

  ‘He has not said a word.’

  ‘I think that it is likely he has found something out, that I hoped to have kept from him,’ Hew responded thoughtfully.

  ‘But why would you keep secrets from him? He is your friend.’

  ‘He is far more,’ Hew leant down, and kissed her. ‘And that, in truth, is why. I best had go and find out what he wants.’

  The doctor’s presence, as ever, seemed to fill the turret tower. Hew knocked and entered, with more sense of sadness than of apprehension. ‘I am here, as summoned. What is the matter, Giles?’

  Giles set down his pen. ‘I have sent my report to the coroner, on James Edie’s death,’ he said bluntly.

  ‘Ah,’ said Hew.

  ‘I have said that he died in the fire. It is a lie.’

  ‘Is it?’ asked Hew, with a look of surprise. ‘What cause had you to lie?’

  ‘It is a lie, because James Edie died from a puncture to the heart, that was small but deep. The fire was set to mask the tracks. It almost did.’

  ‘If that is the truth,’ Hew answered evenly, ‘then why should you not tell it?’

  ‘I do not care a jot that you lied before the coroner,’ insisted Giles. ‘But you have lied to me. To me.’

  The words hung heavy in the air. Giles asked, ‘Did you kill James Edie, Hew?’

  Hew answered. ‘I did not.’

  ‘And yet you covered up the crime.’

  ‘I am afraid I did,’ admitted Hew. ‘It was for Maude.’

  Giles listened, head in hands, as his friend explained. ‘You trusted Robert Lachlan,’ he replied at last, ‘yet you could not trust me?’

  ‘It was not a question of trust,’ answered Hew. ‘I could not implicate you in my crime. You have Matthew, and Meg, to consider.’

  ‘But do you not see, I am implicated, Hew? I have made a false report,’ objected Giles.

  ‘I did not ask you to,’ insisted Hew. ‘I hoped and prayed you would not see the flaw. And if you saw it, then I wanted to be sure that you were free, to make an honest record of your finds.’

/>   ‘And how could I do that, when I saw through your deception, Hew? When it was you?’

  ‘You should have done it, Giles. You should do it, still.’

  ‘And what would happen then?’

  ‘I would take my stand in court, and defend the charge against her; or, if so required, against myself,’ said Hew.

  ‘You were prepared to stand against me in court, and to perjure yourself?’ Giles asked.

  ‘It did not come to that.’

  ‘You covered up a crime.’

  ‘What good would it serve,’ Hew argued, ‘to have let Maude hang? What would have become of Lilias?’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘I do not know what to say to you, Hew. What happens to them now? Maude is to be married, as you say, to Robert Lachlan.’

  ‘That is a subterfuge, to allow them passage out of Scotland and overseas, and to ensure their safety. Robert will take them to the begijnhof in Ghent, where Maude will atone for the murder she has done, by living out her days in Christian piety. It will be her penance. Yet it will be much more than that. For Lilias will be safe, and loved, and free to roam inside the walls without the fear or threat of men, and Maude will have the solace of her grandchild, Jacob’s child, and may bring a little comfort to his wife. Would you rather see her hang?’

  ‘Of course, I would not. But to take the law in your hands . . .’

  ‘Nor law, but justice, Giles, for law would little serve her in this case.’

  ‘Be careful, Hew,’ Giles warned. ‘For law belongs to man, and justice comes from God.’

  ‘To whom Maude will devote herself. I know it was not right,’ defended Hew. ‘But I could think of nothing else. No matter what James Edie did, the law does not excuse the fact that Maude deprived him of his life. Nor could she hope for mercy from Sir Andrew Wood, for he would hang his brother, if he could. And what compassion then for Maude? The law for him is black or white; the case is clear against her. James Edie was a murderer, and yet there are no proofs to indict him, saving Maude’s own word. And who gives heed to that? Then nothing were more certain, than that Maude would hang. And what would profit then, or become of Lilias? God help me, Giles, I know that it was wrong, but I could see no other way.’

  ‘You could have come to me,’ Giles informed him quietly. ‘As you have always come to me, your brother and your friend.’

  ‘But do you not see? I went to Robert Lachlan, because he is a man for hire. He follows the way of the wind. You have Meg and Matthew. It is too much to lose. Oh, do not turn away from me! I cannot bear it, Giles!’

  The wedding was a quiet one. There were no flowers or banquets at the inn, no bitterns, quails or peacock legs to make a wedding feast. Robert wore his new wool coat, and Maude had edged her cap with Flemish lace. Lilias wore winter pansies, and a ribbon sent by Meg. Hew had not seen his sister since his talk with Giles. He had moved out of college and returned to Kenly Green. Though Nicholas was calm and kind, Hew could not confide in him. He felt an aching loneliness. Early one morning in the first week of December he saw the couple off, on the last ship from St Andrews before the winter dearth. The air was crisp and clear, and already brought a frost, that shimmered cool and fragile in the morning light. Robert, Maude and Lilias were waiting by the shore. Robert held a basket that swayed and mewed pathetically, and struggled to retain it in his grasp.

  ‘So Gib is going too,’ Hew smiled.

  ‘The lass would not be parted from it,’ Robert murmured grimly. ‘God knows, you owe me for this!’

  ‘Quite right,’ answered Hew. ‘For what could be more useful than a cat, both aboard the ship and at the beguinage? Gib Hunter will like it in Ghent. He will be a Flemish cat, and chase the Flemish mice,’ he said to Lilias.

  Lilias said, ‘Ghent. Will I like it there too?’

  ‘You will like it best of all,’ he promised her, ‘because within the walls, you can go where you please, and you can make your whirligigs, with no one to make eyes at you. And as I have a nephew, you will have a niece. Lotte is her name, and she has flaxen hair, and pale blue eyes like you.’

  Gib Hunter gave a melancholy yowl. ‘Tis likely he will settle on the ship,’ said Maude.

  Robert snorted. ‘Aye, well, we had best be off. Come then, little lass . . . and wife,’ he added awkwardly.

  ‘This marriage is annulled, you say, as soon as we arrive in Ghent?’ he repeated anxiously to Hew.

  ‘As soon as they are settled in the convent,’ Hew agreed. ‘For no man can be forced to stay married to a nun.’

  ‘I will take them to the gate, and that is all,’ Robert Lachlan warned. ‘I shall not step a foot inside the nunnery.’

  ‘Your fear of nuns, I see, is absolute,’ said Hew. ‘Ask for Mother Ursula. She will see to all. I have no doubt they will be loved, and welcomed there. Though it will take a while to learn the Dutch, the nuns are keen to teach, and Maude is quick to learn. And Lilias will have a freedom she has never known.’

  Maude said, ‘I am afeared, sir. You send me to a land of windmills. Always, I will think of him, and what it was I did to him. What sort of life is that?’

  ‘I hope that you may find your peace. I know no other way to save you, Maude. Forgive me, for I saw no other way,’ the plea was half to her, and half to God.

  ‘Well, sir,’ Robert said, ‘tis time.’

  Hew held out his hand. ‘God speed you, Robert. Do not fear the nuns. For it is a brave thing that you do.’

  ‘Brave?’ Robert gazed at him through narrow, searching eyes. ‘It would take more than a trip to the nunnery to clear my conscience of its sins – and before you ask it, I do have a conscience.’

  ‘That I have never doubted,’ answered Hew.

  Robert offered Lilias his hand and helped her climb into the little lighter craft, laying down the basket with Gib Hunter in her lap. Gib seemed to settle at the murmur of her voice; she crooned a little song to him. Hew knew not what the wind would bring them, but he hoped it would be peace. Robert had returned for Maude, who bowed down her head, and stepped into the boat, without once looking back. Hew watched them till the little craft had landed by the ship and three small figures climbed upon the deck. The wind was light and cold, the day was fair to sail, as the first pale trails of sunlight rose across the bay. Hew shivered. Maybe, in an hour or two, he would call on Meg.

  Giles had woken early, and was standing by the crib, looking at the infant in the moon’s faint fading light.

  ‘Do you think he has my eyes?’

  ‘He has your eyes,’ Meg humoured him. ‘Now let him close them. Leave him to his rest.’

  ‘He has your brother’s chin,’ persisted Giles, ‘I hope he will not prove as stubborn.’

  ‘Are you angry with Hew still?’ asked Meg.

  ‘You know that I am not.’

  ‘Giles, come back to bed.’

  He lay down on the counterpane, and allowed her head to settle on his shoulder. Absently, he stroked her hair. ‘Would you kill for Matthew?’ he inquired.

  ‘In a heartbeat, if I had to.’

  ‘So would I.’

  They were a moment silent. Then Meg asked, ‘What are we to do with Hew?’

  ‘Hhm? Should we be doing something?’

  ‘He means to fall in love again.’

  ‘Then that is to the good. Though I had not remarked it.’

  ‘He means to fall in love with Clare Buchanan.’

  ‘Ah. Then not so good.’ conceded Giles. ‘But there is nothing we can do. You know as well as I, that your brother will not listen to the counsel of his friends. He has a head for danger, and must see it out.’

  ‘Then you are both alike.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Giles considered. ‘I suppose there’s truth in that. Do you mind it, Meg? You never did before. But things are different now. We have a child.’

  ‘It makes a difference, aye. But I do not mind it much. So long as you come home to us,’ Meg murmured sleepily. ‘You make our world complete.’


  Giles gazed at her, and at the sleeping bairn. ‘Then I am well content. For in my eyes, you make the world.’