The Lanimer Bride

by Pat McIntosh

  ‘And you reckon none of the MacPhersons carries sic things back and forth?’ Boyd remarked to Blue Doo. ‘I’m surprised at that, for it seems to me like an easy way to be earning a coin or two, or a few favours, when you’re acquaint wi the Lees and all.’

  ‘Would you say so?’ returned Blue Doo, sounding interested. ‘Maybe we should be looking about us for messages to take, if that’s the case, would you think, Cauf’s Heid?’

  ‘Aye, mebbe,’ agreed Cauf’s Heid. ‘We could be asking at himself, likely, up at Kersewell.’

  ‘But you’ve already run errands for Vary of Kersewell,’ said Gil politely, ‘have you no? That’s how you’ve got setting down on his land.’

  ‘What, the MacPhersons?’ said Cauf’s Heid, looking alarmed. ‘Och, you’re thinking o someone else, maister. Maybe the McEwans. Aye, that’ll be it,’ he nodded sagely, ‘likely the McEwans. Turn their hand to anything, they will.’

  ‘So what did you do for Vary?’ asked Sandy Boyd. ‘Him at Kersewell, Gregor or Gregory or whatever his name is.’

  ‘Kept a watch on Mistress Somerville at Kettlands, I’d say, for one,’ said Gil. Cauf’s Heid’s alarmed look intensified. ‘And on his brother Ambrose in Lanark. Maybe no yourselves, maybe no the elders of the group, but your bairns seem to me to get all ower Lanarkshire, and who notices a tinker laddie?’

  ‘They did more than that,’ said Doig sourly. ‘Planted out five hunner slips o timber, hid the Irishman—’

  ‘Set fire to The Cleuch,’ suggested Boyd.

  ‘Indeed we never!’ said Blue Doo, his hand going to the gully-knife at his belt. A silence fell across the clearing. Gil looked up, to find the rest of the group of tinkers watching intently. ‘That was the Irish gadgie fired the house, so it was, and none o our doing. You’ll no hang that one on our necks!’

  ‘You think no?’ said Boyd mildly.

  ‘No, I think no,’ said Gil. ‘I think the worst they’ve done there is hide the fellow, as Doig says, and convoy him about.’

  A strange expression flitted across Blue Doo’s face, surprise and – what? Something else. Could it have been relief?

  ‘We were guiding him to The Cleuch,’ he conceded. ‘Seeing he has no great knowledge o the tracks and tramping-ways o Scotland. And when he came away from the place in a great hurry in the midnight, we were taking him back to Kersewell, and it was only when we looked back we were seeing the place, the way it was burning. I’m right glad to learn you were all getting away safe,’ he added, ‘for I’d no wish sic bean gadgies as yoursels to be hurt in a fire, so I wouldny.’

  So they knew we were there, thought Gil.

  ‘What did the Irishman want at that house?’ he asked.

  ‘Och, we’d have no knowledge o that,’ protested Cauf’s Heid. ‘He’d no share that wi the likes o us!’

  ‘Maybe no,’ said Sandy Boyd, ‘but you might ha been in a position to overhear some of their talk, being as close as you were. It would be interesting to ken what they found to converse about.’

  Gil flinched, as the image of Robert Somerville’s ruined face came to mind. Blue Doo’s glance flicked to him and away again, and the man nodded, infinitesimally.

  ‘I’m thinking maybe Somerville didny ha much joy o the conversation,’ observed Cauf’s Heid drily.

  ‘How was that?’ asked Boyd, his tone casual.

  ‘Och, surely your worship kens as much as we do,’ said Blue Doo. ‘Being as you were there and all, afore the fire spread.’

  Boyd waited. Gil waited. Doig looked from one to another of the faces about him. Finally Blue Doo fell into the trap and broke the silence.

  ‘He was asking a many questions, so he was,’ he admitted. ‘The Irishman. So he was. Somerville didny seem right willing to answer them, neither.’

  ‘Questions?’ prompted Boyd in the same casual tone.

  ‘Aye, questions. Where was the missing lady, did she bear a boy or a bairn, was it like to live, questions o that sort. No to mention, where was the coin, who had paid him. I think he never had any answer, did he, Cauf’s Heid?’

  ‘No that I heard,’ admitted Cauf’s Heid. ‘At least, no in words.’

  ‘Was that all he asked after?’ Boyd asked. ‘Just the missing lady?’

  ‘I’d ha thought he’d only to ask at you and your family,’ said Gil, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his cousin’s face. ‘The way you’ve been watching her and those about her.’

  ‘Och, indeed no!’ protested Cauf’s Heid. ‘What we kenned o the lady and her kin we were keeping to oursels, for that’s nothing to do wi wanderers out o Ireland, nor it isny.’

  ‘But more to do wi Vary of Kersewell?’ suggested Gil. ‘Since he’s paying you. Do you think he will?’

  ‘He’ll pay us,’ said Blue Doo confidently. There was a certain threat in the tone.

  ‘And was that all the fellow was speiring at Somerville?’ Sandy Boyd asked. ‘Or at Henry Madur? Och, no, I suppose that was all you heard,’ he added. ‘Likely you wouldny want to get near enough to hear right.’

  ‘We heard plenty,’ said Blue Doo. ‘We heard enough.’

  There was another silence. After it had dragged on for a while, Blue Doo unfolded his legs and said, ‘Maybe we should be setting out for Kersewell. It’s a fine day we’re wasting, your honours, so it is.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Doig grimly. ‘I’ve had enough o the giffgaff, time we were on our feet.’

  Watching the MacPhersons sorting out who would accompany them and who would stay to strike the camp, with much discussion in that strange mix of Ersche and another tongue, Gil remarked softly, ‘Interesting.’

  Doig grunted. ‘No interesting enough.’

  ‘Billy’s right,’ said Sandy Boyd. ‘No interesting enough.’ He switched to French. ‘Did you hear what you wanted?’

  ‘More or less,’ Gil returned. ‘I wol now singen, yif I kan, the armes and also the man. Accusations are not proof, of course, but a conversation with the eldest brother will be of value. I’m assuming it was him brought in the guns, whoever carried them. It may have been the McEwans rather than this crew. Do you know, Maister Doig?’ Doig gave him an impassive stare. Gil grinned suddenly. ‘That’s if Vary will speak to me. I won’t convince as Blacader’s quaestor, will I, rising up out of the heather like this.’

  ‘Use your knife on him,’ recommended Doig in Scots. ‘Most folks will listen to that.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘And an invitation scribed in Vary’s own hand,’ said Mistress Somerville, dabbing at her eyes, ‘to stay at Lanark wi them to see the bairn baptised and longer. There was ne’er sic a good-son as mine, madam, I tell you, attentive and respectful, just as he ought.’

  Alys met Lady Egidia’s eye and looked away quickly, hiding a smile. Behind Mistress Somerville her maid, less successful, bent her head hastily to scrutinise the elaborate folds of her mistress’s veil.

  They were in the solar at Kettlands, having ridden out shortly after noon to call on several people. Alys would have much preferred to stay at home after yesterday’s wide excursions, but her mother-in-law had insisted on her presence. She sat quietly on the padded backstool, studying Mistress Somerville’s collection of strange objects, wondering why she kept them and how rapidly the new grandchild, for whom they had brought a suitable gift extracted from the attics at Belstane, would destroy most of them.

  ‘And your daughter is well?’ said Lady Egidia. ‘And the bairn? What have they named him, again?’

  ‘Wee Lithgo,’ said Mistress Somerville dubiously. ‘It’s a right strange name for a laddie, though I can see why they gied him it. I hope he doesny get teased at the school. Aye, my lassie’s well, or she was this morn when Vary sent me word. I’m that grateful to Maister Cunningham, for I understand it was entirely his doing that they were found. And how her uncles could ha done sic a thing to her – but maybe best nothing’s said on that head.’

  Not entirely Gil’s doing, thought Alys, but said nothing. Lady Egidia, seate
d opposite, the wide skirts of her green riding-gown pooling about her feet, set her empty glass down on the tray with a little click. ‘I’m right glad my son has been of service, madam,’ she said. ‘As for the other matter, that’s a sore loss to you, to have your brother and good-brother both dead in the one night.’

  ‘No loss they!’ said Mistress Somerville on a vindictive note. ‘Our Rab was aye a sleekit creature, and as for Jocelyn Madur o Eastshiel, well! Thought himsel a judge o horses, so he did, tried to tell me what I should be riding, offered to buy it for me. And how much o my price would ha gone into his purse, tell me that?’ she demanded rhetorically. ‘It’s a right shame The Cleuch went up in flames,’ she added. ‘I’d heard it was a fine house, and I’m sorry for the eldest boy, that’s the heir, but Rab’s no loss to the world, I can tell you, madam.’

  ‘You’ve no notion what could ha brought your brother to do sic a thing?’ Lady Egidia asked.

  ‘Likely money,’ said Mistress Somerville sourly. ‘He’d be after money from Vary, or some way to get it, or maybe someone gied him money to do it. He’s aye been short o money, since he was a laddie, it slid out his fingers like water.’

  ‘You’d wonder how he managed to build sic a great house,’ said Lady Egidia. ‘Hall and two wings, so my son tellt me, and everything fine about it, as you say. And some handsome plenishings too, Gil said.’

  ‘Aye, all lost,’ said Mistress Somerville, shaking her head. ‘He’d a long tale last I seen him, o doing a favour for Commendator Knollys, him that used to be Lord Treasurer, o being far ben wi him. More use, says I, to be well ben wi the man that’s Treasurer now, but he wouldny hear me. So maybe that’s where he had the coin fro. No saying now, it’s all lost, every stick, save for a great cabinet, a’ fu’ o wee drawers like a spice kist, that the Depute sent across on a cart yestreen. Right kind o him to do that. He sent word wi it that was the only piece they’d got out undamaged and would I like to take it for safety. I’ll maybe no mention to my nevvie it’s here,’ she added, with a complicit glance, ‘till he asks for it.’

  ‘They make those in the Low Countries,’ said Alys, without looking at her mother-in-law. ‘I’ve seen one or two. They can be bonnie things. Is this one carved, or painted, or the like?’

  ‘I’ve not seen it.’ Mistress Somerville shook her head again, so that her barbe slid back and forward over her bosom. Today’s gown was not the magnificent black brocade construction she had worn to visit Belstane, but a plainer brown garment with huge sleeves turned back with black velvet; the kirtle visible beneath it was well worn. She must have assumed the gown in a hurry, like Provost Lockhart the other day, when the guests were seen riding up the track. ‘It’s still out in the stables,’ she continued now, ‘till it loses the stink o the fire. I’ll need to set them to wash it wi vinegar and water.’

  ‘What did your brother use it for?’ Alys asked. ‘Some keep papers in them, but some keep curiosities, the likes o these that you collect, madam. You could make good use o’t in this chamber.’

  ‘Och, it’s full o all sorts, says Billy,’ said their hostess dismissively. ‘Stones and strange coins and the like. You’re welcome to take a look, if it interests you, lassie. Tell Billy I bade him show you it, as you leave.’

  ‘And we ought to be taking our leave,’ said Lady Egidia, gathering her skirts together to rise. ‘You’ll have to see to your packing, mistress, if you’re to stay at Lanark for some days. I’ve no doubt Mistress Madur will be glad to have you wi her.’

  Billy, once he accepted that they were to see the cabinet, was quite happy to show them where it was, and to describe the trouble they had had getting it off the cart and into the storeroom where he had placed it.

  ‘Four o us, it took,’ he said, grimacing, ‘what wi the legs drapping off as soon’s look at it, and the wee draws sliding out, save for the one that jammed when I tried to open it to get a grip o the thing. Here it’s, mistress, and here it can stay for all o me.’

  ‘Very handsome,’ said Lady Egidia, studying the item. ‘That must hold a deal o clutter. From the Low Countries, you said, my dear?’

  Alys stepped forward, and froze, realising just in time that she could hardly go through the contents in front of Mistress Somerville’s servants.

  ‘It’s empty,’ said Billy. ‘I emptied all the wee draws into yon basket.’ He indicated a stout willow basket sitting by the foot of the cabinet. ‘There was all sorts in it, stones and wee carvings and boxes, empty purses and old seals, you name it. Load o rubbish, fit for the midden, all o’t.’

  ‘I would keep papers in it,’ said Alys. She peered into the basket, and felt that Billy was right in his valuation of the contents.

  ‘He didny. That’s one thing there wasny, papers.’

  ‘I think we’ve seen enough,’ said Lady Egidia, looking over her shoulder at the yard, where their horses were just being led out. ‘Let’s away, my dear. We’ve other calls to make.’

  ‘Where now, mem?’ asked Steenie as they rode down the track towards the Lanark road. ‘Is it Lockharthill now?’

  ‘I’d like to go into Lanark,’ said Alys.

  Lady Egidia looked curiously at her, but only said, ‘Very well. Lanark first, Steenie, and then likely Lockharthill after. You men can wait at Juggling Nick’s as usual.’

  ‘Did you see the cabinet, Steenie?’ Alys asked.

  ‘What, the now, mem? I’d a look at it. It’s an orra thing, right enough. There’d be a fair bit o carpentry in it, wi all they wee boxes to match to size. Skilled work, right enough. My cousin Will’s a furniture-maker, chairs and kists and the like, but he’s never made aught like that.’

  ‘And up at The Cleuch? Did you see it come out the house?’

  ‘No me, mem. I was down the stables.’

  ‘What is your interest?’ asked Lady Egidia in French.

  ‘Gil saw the piece in the man’s closet,’ Alys returned. ‘He kept secrets in it, coins and documents, but now they are missing. I wonder who has them.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lady Egidia turned her horse on to the Lanark road, and remarked after a few paces, ‘I have not yet met this Madame Olympe.’

  ‘She may not be in Lanark just now,’ Alys said.

  ‘I understand that. She seems to be a most interesting person.’

  ‘I would rather say étonnant,’ said Alys with care.

  ‘Étonnant,’ her mother-in-law repeated, her eyes dancing.

  ‘Precisely.’

  Much to Alys’s relief, Agnes opened the door to Madame Olympe’s lodging when she rattled at the pin. Her expression was anxious, and lifted only slightly when she saw Alys.

  ‘Oh, it’s yoursel, mem,’ she said, bobbing a curtsy. ‘I fear I canny ask you in, mem, madam,’ her glance flicked over Alys’s shoulder to Lady Egidia, and then to Steenie waiting at the foot of the steps. ‘My mistress is no weel. Something she’s ate, I’ve no doubt, I’ve emptied the jordan as many times the day—’

  ‘Oh, poor lady,’ said Alys, suppressing a giggle at this level of verisimilitude.

  Below the forestair the Lightbodys’ inquisitive elderly maidservant leaned out of her window and called up to them, ‘She’s needing a good dose o rhubart, Agnes, and then some o my rice porridge. I’ll make her a wee drop and send it up.’

  ‘Aye, thank you kindly, Annet,’ responded Agnes. ‘That’d be right neighbourly in you. So you see, mem,’ she continued to Alys, ‘how I’m placed.’

  ‘That’s no easy for you. This is my good-mother, Lady Cunningham, Agnes. May we no step in for a moment?’ Alys said, trying to give Agnes a significant look. ‘Only for a moment, we’d not wish to disturb Madame.’

  After a slight pause Agnes stepped aside to let them enter, biting her lip.

  ‘D’ye ken where—’ she began, in a low voice, as if taking care not to disturb an invalid in the inner chamber.

  ‘No,’ said Alys, equally softly, ‘nor Gil either, but I’ve to get the papers that came from The Cleuch.’ Beside her she was
aware of Lady Egidia very carefully not reacting. ‘The papers that came home after the fire,’ she prompted, at Agnes’s dubious look. ‘Out the cabinet in Somerville’s closet.’

  ‘Ah.’ Agnes still looked doubtful. Alys, in the absence of any truthful exhortation she could come up with, kept silence, and finally the woman said, ‘I’ll see if I can put my hand on them, mem. Hae a seat, ladies, why don’t ye. And I hope ye’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you a refreshment, what wi illness in the house.’

  ‘That’s well understood,’ said Lady Egidia. She seated herself elegantly on the backstool Agnes indicated, and raised her eyebrows in some amusement as the door to the inner chamber closed behind the woman. Alys nodded, pointed at the floorboards, touched her ear. Annet might be listening in the kitchen below them, though it was also possible she was at the window, interrogating Steenie where he waited in the street.

  They waited in silence for the length of a Te Deum or so, while sounds from the inner chamber suggested that Agnes was searching for the papers in one kist or another, one bag or garment or another. Eventually she emerged, slipping sideways through the door, making certain they could not see past her. She held a small bundle of folded papers; the outermost one had a bright green seal on it.

  ‘I think this must be them, mem,’ she said, ‘for I canny mind that I’ve seen the seal afore. Did he— do you ken what’s wanted wi them?’

  ‘No entirely,’ said Alys, with perfect truth, tucking the wad of paper into her purse, straightening her skirts over it again. ‘Just that they’re wanted. My thanks, Agnes, and I hope Madame will be about soon.’

  Agnes acknowledged this with a wry smile, and curtsied again as they rose to leave.