Chapter Eight

‘I thought we would come to visit anyway,’ said Alys. ‘It’s company for everyone.’

‘I’m right pleased to see you,’ said Kate, looking hard at her face. What did she see? Alys wondered. Was it all there to read in her eyes? ‘Babb, will you tell the kitchen?’

They had risen in the morning to the news, brought in by the men who had fetched the water, that the bellman was crying the quest on Danny Gibson put off for two days. Sir Thomas’s rheum must be worse, Gil had speculated. So after hearing Mass and praying for her mother and everyone else who should be remembered on All Souls’ Day, none of which helped the turmoil in her head, Alys had gathered up John and his nurse and made for Morison’s Yard.

‘Onnyanny!’ announced John behind her from Nancy’s arms. ‘Onnyanny!’

‘Ysonde and Wynliane,’ she corrected. ‘Are the girls upstairs?’

Kate laughed, shook her head, and reached for her crutches. ‘We’re all going out into the garden for some fresh air. Nan took the girls down first, and we were about to follow.’

Alys looked about the hall, and realized that Mysie was wrapped in a huge striped plaid and holding Edward bundled in a sheepskin. Kate herself was also warmly clad.

‘Onnyanny!’

‘We’ll just get you down these steps, my doo,’ said Babb, returning from the kitchen door. ‘Do you lassies want to take they bairns down the garden first?’

Mysie, taking the hint, set off with Nancy. As they crossed the yard John could be heard remarking, ‘Baba. Onnyanny baba.’ One arm in its bright red sleeve emerged from Nancy’s plaid and gestured at Edward.

Maister Morison’s property, like all the other tofts on the east side of the High Street, was much longer than it was wide and sloped down towards the mill-burn, divided from its neighbours by neat whitewashed fences of split palings shoulder-high on either side. Beyond the yard, past the barn and cart-shed which belonged to the business, past the kaleyard where hens pecked about among the autumnal plants and the kale waited for its first frost, they reached the little pleasure-garden. The low box hedges enclosed only well-dug earth at this time of year, the grassy paths bare of daisies or buttercups, but the spot was sheltered and in the thin sunshine warm enough to sit in. By the time Kate and Alys reached it, Wynliane and Ysonde had borne John off to take part in their game, the three nursemaids had tipped all three benches upright and already had their heads together discussing diet and feeding, and Edward was awake and happy to be handed over to receive attention from his mother and godmother.

‘Has Gil learned anything more?’ Kate asked, unwrapping her son a little. Babb surveyed the garden, checked that her mistress wanted nothing more, and strode off towards the house.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Alys, relieved to be discussing this rather than her own affairs. ‘He spoke with your neighbour’s eldest son,’ she pointed unobtrusively towards the Renfrew house, and Kate nodded approval of the ellipsis, ‘who thought the poison might have been meant for his father, and that any of the household might be responsible.’

‘No help,’ said Kate, and made kissing noises at Edward. ‘None of them had the chance to put it in place, I’d have thought.’ She grimaced, then smiled reassuringly at the baby. ‘I’d like to get it cleared up, it’s worrying Augie. He’s hardly slept, these two nights.’

And nor did I last night, thought Alys, too busy thinking about — No, put it out of your mind, don’t — The images came hurtling back to confront her, and she drew a shivering breath. Meg struggling with her mother and the two midwives, the dirt and smells and indignity, the screaming and pain -

A sermon she had once read listed the five dangers to the soul newly freed from the body, Demons, punishment, the remnants of sin, doubt of the way and shrieking. She felt she understood the last one now.

‘I spoke to my lassies again, did Gil say?’ Kate said, holding her son upright. Inside the swaddling bands and the multiple woollen wrappings his legs kicked against her knees. ‘No, it’s since I saw him. Stand up, wee mannie, stand up. What a clever boy! They had another thing to say about — about the lass next door.’

Alys made an enquiring noise, not trusting her voice.

‘They both said, when she crossed the kitchen,’ Kate recalled, ‘and went on to the stair, she was just behind Andrew Hamilton.’

‘Andrew — the wright? Or his son?’said Alys, startled.

‘Oh, the boy, I’d think,’ said Kate, eyes dancing. ‘I doubt my lassies noticed the carpenter, he’s away too old for them. Young Andrew’s a likely laddie, he’ll disturb a few folk’s dreams when he gets his growth, and these two are no so much older than he is.’

‘What was he doing in the kitchen?’ Alys wondered.

‘Likely went out to the privy. He’d come back in by the kitchen to see about Ursel’s gingerbread, I’ve no doubt. Which reminds me, Ursel said there was marchpane fancies, tell Gil, but the laddie who died would have none of them. Quite sharp in refusing, he was.’

‘And yet he smelled of almonds when he was stricken down,’ said Alys. ‘That must be the poison right enough. Gil has learned that it might have been made from nuts, almonds I suppose. I never heard of such a thing.’

‘Nor did I.’ Kate bounced her son, who blew bubbles at her. ‘A bababa! A bababa, then!’

‘Did your lassies notice whether Nanty Bothwell followed Agnes?’

‘Isa didn’t notice. Mina said he did, but that it was a good bit after. I think since Bowster found the two of them talking it can’t have been that long. Long enough no to be obvious, I suppose.’

‘And Andrew Hamilton was ahead of them on the stair,’ said Alys thoughtfully. ‘So did he hear what she said to Bothwell?’

‘We could ask him,’ said Kate. ‘It might help Gil.’

They looked at one another.

‘Will you call at the house,’ Kate went on, ‘or will I send John to get him round here just now? He’s more like to tell us what he heard if his mother isn’t listening.’

‘His mother was at the gossip-ale last night, and past hearing anything much when I saw her. I’d think she had a sore head today.’

‘Yes, Babb told me she snored all afternoon at mine. Right, then. If you step up into the yard you’ll likely find John Paterson.’

The steward’s nephew was very willing to leave his task and go to look for Andrew Hamilton, but warned Alys shyly it might take some time to find him.

‘See, mem, I’ve no notion where they’re working the now,’ he admitted. ‘I’d heard they’d finished one task, but there’s two more places I could look.’

‘Then go and look, if you will,’ said Alys, and returned to report this to Kate, who was unfastening her gown preparatory to feeding Edward.

‘It’s worth the try,’ Kate said, applying her son to her breast. ‘There’s a clever boy!’ She looked up, and studied Alys’s face again. ‘Had Meg a bad time of it?’ she asked. ‘The word that reached me wasny good.’

‘She did.’ Suddenly Alys was back in that space between the bed and the window, Meg’s screams echoing in her ears while the other women knelt doing dreadful things -

‘Alys.’ Kate’s hand reached across the guzzling baby to clamp down on hers. ‘Alys, how much did you see?’ She hesitated, unwilling to put it into words. ‘Screaming and pain and blood?’ She nodded in relief. ‘Look. Never let it worry you. It’s not that bad. You forget, Alys.’

‘How?’ she burst out. ‘How can you forget that?’

‘When you’ve a new baby,’ Kate declared, ‘you’ll forget your own name. I think nursing rots the brain,’ she added, looking down at Edward. ‘No, the recollection of the crying-time vanishes away immediately. Ask Meg about hers and see what she says. Mother and Margaret both promised me, it would be bad at the time but you forget afterwards, because the bairn’s such a delight, and do you know, they were right.’ She smiled anxiously into Alys’s face, and shook the hand she held gently. ‘Never fear, lassie. My mother’s right about most things.’

‘That’s true,’ said Alys, mustering a shaky smile.

‘Put it out of your mind just now. You’re not …?’

She shook her head, trying to control the turmoil of feelings in her body.

‘Believe it, Kate, you’ll be first to hear after Gil and my father,’ she said, ‘if I ever — ’

‘Baby Floris is getting fed,’ announced Ysonde, materializing beside them. ‘Wynliane, Baby Floris is — ’

‘No need to tell all the neighbours,’ said Kate, laughing, as Wynliane hurried to join her sister. The two girls hung cooing over the baby, who rolled his eyes at them and redoubled his efforts, possibly in case of interruption. Alys looked about her.

‘Where is John?’ she asked.

‘In bed,’ said Ysonde. ‘It was his bedtime.’ She pointed at the further box hedges. ‘We made him a wee bed down there in among the hedge.’

‘Is he there now?’ Alys rose and went to look. There was no sign of the little boy. ‘Ysonde, he isn’t here. Where can he be?’

‘He must have runned away,’ said Ysonde. ‘He’s a naughty boy.’

‘I don’t see him.’ Alys stared about the garden, but saw no sign of a bright red tunic.

‘Ysonde, go and help Mistress Alys find John,’ prompted Kate. ‘Both of you. Nancy,’ she called, ‘where did John go?’

The cluster of women broke open, and three faces turned towards them. Nan, the older woman, was the first to realize what was being said, and got quickly to her feet.

‘Can he get through the fence?’ she asked. ‘A limber wee laddie like that, he’d get in anywhere.’ She turned toward the nearest of the neat fences which lined the long boundary.

‘The mill-burn!’ exclaimed Alys, her heart leaping into her throat. ‘Could he —?’

Edward screamed indignantly as Kate sat up straighter. She hastily shifted her hold on him, and he fell silent and resumed his meal.

‘Alys, go out and look on the path,’ she recommended. ‘It’s so muddy down there you’ll see his wee footprints easily if he’s got out. Nancy, Mysie, go and look in the kaleyard and then up in the yard, ask the men if they’ve seen him.’

‘Would he go so far?’ Alys asked, hurrying down to the gate. ‘When did we — when did you see him, Ysonde?’

‘Last night,’ said Ysonde. ‘It was his bedtime, I telled you.’

‘No, my lassie, not in your game,’ said Kate. ‘John might have run somewhere he shouldn’t be and we need to find him. How long ago was he here?’

‘Just a wee bit ago,’ offered Wynliane. ‘He was being our wee boy.’ She looked about. ‘Could he be hiding under the hedges?’

‘Maybe you should look,’ suggested Kate, and the two girls began to scurry round, bending to look under the little box hedges and calling ‘John, John!’

‘There’s no gaps in this bit fence,’ said Nan to Alys as she struggled with the gate. ‘I’d say he’s no out there, mistress, but you have to check.’ She hurried past, scanning the close-set palings. Alys stepped out on to the path which ran along the bank of the mill-burn, past the ends of the long narrow properties whose frontage was on the High Street. No small red-tunicked person was visible, no prints of the little leather shoes of which John was so proud showed up in the muddy, much-trodden surface. She looked up and down, saw a pair of workmen approaching, a woman with a basket of washing coming the other way. No sign of John, and surely if they had seen him they would wave, or shout, or -

‘Mistress!’ It was Nan’s voice, urgent. ‘He’s next door. In the physic garden.’

She turned and ran to the foot of the Renfrews’ garden. There was a gate, much like the Morisons’ gate, but little used. She wrestled with its latch, struggled to drag it through the mud, squeezed through into the garden, past a barrel standing just inside the fence.

‘John?’ she called. ‘Where’s John? Come to Mammy Alys!’

No answer.

‘He’s yonder, mem, I can see him,’ said Nan, her head just visible. She put an arm over the fence to point up the slope. ‘Yonder, beyond the peas or whatever that is.’

The red tunic was visible, through the dried stems on the trellis. Not peas, surely, something more medicinal. She hurried up the path, past the midden. The Renfrews had been poisoning rats, there was a little heap of the creatures with a dead crow next them. Briefly aware of relief that John had not found that, she went on. In Kate’s garden there were voices, which must be Mysie and Nancy returning.

‘The men haveny seen him, my leddy.’

‘We’ve found him. He’s next door in the physic garden.’

‘Our Lady save us, what will he be at? There’s all sorts there he could put in his mouth!’

‘What’s he eating?’

She rounded the trellis, and the same question hit her like a flung stone. John sat on the ground, beaming up at her, his mouth smeared with fragments of something, brighter red than his little woollen tunic. He held out his hand, showing more crushed berries.

‘Morple,’ he said happily.

She knelt beside him in the earth, alarm surging up through her body, tightening her chest. With shaking hands she persuaded his mouth open, raking inside with an experienced finger, extracting broken fragments of fruit. He objected, rearing backwards, pushing at her hand, but did not bite.

‘What is John eating?’ she asked him. ‘That’s not good, John. Bad berries.’

‘Goo’ bez,’ he contradicted, opening and closing his fat little hand on the pulpy mass. She scraped them off his palm, and scooped him up, looking round.

‘Where did you get the berries, John? Show me.’ Her heart was hammering as if it would leap out of her mouth. What the fruit was poisonous? What if he- how could she face her father? How could she face the harper, the boy’s father?

‘Morple,’ he said again.

There was nothing with berries on it where he pointed. She set him on the ground again, saying, ‘Show me, John. Where were the berries?’

He looked round him, up at her, and round the garden again. More voices over the fence, men’s voices. Have you got him? Aye, there he’s over the fence in the physic garden. Christ aid, what’s he found there? She ignored them, intent on the child.

After a moment John trotted off towards a shaded corner by a laurel bush. Not the laurel, she thought, please blessed Mary I beg of you, not the laurel!

They’ll eat anything at that age, said the voices over the fence. My cousin lost one afore he was two, from eating unripe elderberries. What’s the bairn got?

‘Bez,’ said John happily. He squatted down to gather more, and held up a bright red berry between thumb and forefinger. ‘Morple, pease?’

She stared at the patch of ground where he sat. Dark oval leaves flopped this way and that, and above them little stems nodded, each bearing a curve of bright berries. Not the laurel, but nearly as bad. How many had he eaten? How many would it take to -

She found she was running towards the gate, the child in her arms, wiping fragments of berries off her hands on his back and shoulders. He was struggling, and exclaiming, ‘No! No! Want bez!’ and the gate seemed to be getting no closer, as if she was running on the spot. Her mind was whirling round and round like a squirrel in a cage. What was the treatment? Was there an antidote? How many had he swallowed?

Nan was at her side, offering to take the boy from her. She clutched him closer, despite his indignant cries, and tried to run faster.

‘What was it? What had he got at, mem?’

She stared, open-mouthed, over John’s dark curls. Her Scots had deserted her.

Muguet,’ she said. ‘Muguet des bois. Little white — scented — I don’t know — ’

They were in Kate’s garden, and Mysie was wailing and Nancy was hiccuping in shock. Edward was screaming, the two little girls were sobbing, everyone seemed to be crying except herself and Kate and Nan, but a ring of silent, appalled men stared at the scene. She set John down on the bench, and he pushed away from her, red-faced and cross.

‘Want bez,’ he reiterated. ‘Mine bez. Now!’

‘He had eaten berries of muguet,’ she said to Kate, still unable to find the Scots word. ‘I don’t know how many but it is poisonous. We should make him vomit, we should — ’

‘Right,’ said Nan practically, seized the boy and pushed a finger down his throat. He screamed angrily at her, but did no more than hiccup and scream again when she withdrew the finger. Her next attempt obtained only furious roaring, which escalated rapidly into a full-blown tantrum.

‘He’s no having any,’ said one of the men. ‘I doubt, I doubt — ’

‘May lilies,’ said Kate suddenly over her son’s screaming. ‘Lily of the vale, Our Lady’s Tears.’ She was shaking, but gathered her stepdaughters to her. ‘Come, come, lassies, no need to cry. You wereny to know he’d run off.’ She handed the baby to an awed Wynliane. ‘Can you stop Edward, I mean Floris from crying for me? Andy, get the men back to work, there’s nothing for them to do here.’

‘He’ll no throw it up,’ said Nan despairingly, looking down at the roaring child in her arms. ‘Should we try salt in water, mem?’

‘I don’t like his colour,’ said Alys. ‘He’s gone very pale if that’s a tantrum. And he’s slavering.’

‘Has he vomited?’ A new voice. Alys looked round sharply, and found Grace Gordon at her elbow, her apron full of crockery. She seemed out of breath. ‘Has he vomited?’ she repeated.

‘No, we can’t make him — ’

Without comment Grace set down the things she carried on the bench beside Kate, poured water and a few drops of something into a small beaker, added a single drop of something else, advanced on the child still roaring in Nan’s arms. Mysie had stopped weeping and she and Nancy were clinging together staring. Edward was still crying.

‘Had you cleared his mouth?’

‘Yes, yes, I — ’

‘Hold his head, then,’ Grace directed. Alys obeyed, and the entire contents of the beaker vanished into the square scarlet mouth. John choked, spluttered, began to cry rather than roar. Grace watched him tensely until he suddenly wailed in distress, dribbled at the mouth again and was very sick. Nan tipped him expertly forward, and Grace inspected the results in the grass.

‘Only some fragments,’ she said dubiously. ‘Is he finished, do you think? He needs to empty his wee wame.’

‘No, there’s more,’ said Nan as the child wailed again.

Grace stepped back, and said to Alys, ‘What has he eaten today?’

‘Bread, porridge,’ said Alys shakily, trying to recall. ‘Nancy, what did he eat?’

‘Two raisins,’ said Nancy. ‘An apple. Or was that last night? Oh, mem, I’ll never forgive mysel!’ Her face crumpled again, and she scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

‘Bread and porridge,’ repeated Grace, bending to study the second instalment. ‘I think that’s most of it, then, and the apple, and it looks as if he’d only swallowed one or two fragments of the berries.’ She broke off a twig of box from the nearest hedge and poked at the mess on the grass. ‘Good.’

John was still crying, though the sobs were slower now.

‘He’s getting sleepy,’ said Nan, wiping the child’s mouth. Grace straightened up and came to check his pulse, then tilted up his head and raised one heavy eyelid to study his eye.

‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘The pupil is enlarged but not greatly, the pulse is steady considering how distressed he is. Poisoning progresses rapidly in such a small form, but so does the antidote. I think we’ve caught it in time.’

‘You mean he’s safe?’ demanded Nancy through her tears. ‘Oh, is he safe, mem?’

‘He must be watched,’ said Grace, ‘for the headache, cold sweats, pains in his belly. I’ll give you something for him in case that happens. But if he sleeps naturally he should be safe.’

Alys crossed herself, tears starting to her eyes. Nancy dropped to her knees on the cold ground, snatching out her beads. Mysie imitated her, and they set up a murmuring of heartfelt thanksgiving, broken by Nancy’s occasional sobs. Nan made her way to a bench and sat down on it, rather heavily, one hand going up to stroke the drowsy child’s dark curls.

‘What did you give him?’ Alys asked anxiously, thinking of a candle to St John. The boy’s weight in wax, or even double -

‘A little ipecac, to induce vomiting, always the best beginning in a case of poisoning in a child,’ said Grace with some hesitation, as if she was translating the comments out of one or more other languages, ‘and to control the heartbeat a drop of fever-bark tincture, a valuable specific against the effects of May lily or foxglove.’ She felt the child’s pulse again. ‘I wonder — maybe another drop of that the now, to be certain.’

‘Christ and His saints be thanked that you came to our aid,’ said Alys fervently.

‘Thanks be to Our Lady your woman fetched me.’

‘Fetched you?’ said Kate. ‘I was about to ask what brought you. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone, Grace. Who fetched you?’

Grace paused in measuring the water for the dose.

‘It was a woman,’ she said blankly. ‘Did you not send her? I was in my chamber, and she came in and said the boy had eaten berries of May lilies and needed my help. Is she not one of your women?’

‘We’d had no time to think of sending for anyone,’ said Kate. ‘What like woman? You’re sure it wasny one of the men?’

‘No, it was a woman. Tall, dark hair worn loose, a checked gown,’ said Grace. ‘I took her for an Erschewoman. She made it plain it was urgent. So I gathered the remedies I needed and ran down the garden and in by the gate there.’ She turned to administer her prescription, but at the look which Kate and Alys exchanged she halted. ‘What have I said?’


‘It sounds like Ealasaidh,’ said Kate.

‘But how can it have been? She is in Fife, I think, and the last I heard she was well.’ Alys shivered, and clasped her hands closer round the beaker of spiced ale, grateful for its warmth. ‘To think of what word I might have had to send her — ’

Dinner was over, a subdued meal at which Alys had been unable to swallow more than a mouthful. Both Wynliane and Ysonde, standing at the table beside Kate, had had to be coaxed to eat, and Ysonde had suddenly burst out with, ‘John might have died! Of poison berries!’

‘Yes, but he didn’t,’ said Kate, ‘and we’re going to pray for Mistress Gordon all our days, aren’t we? She saved him.’

Grace had gone back to the Renfrew house, matter-of-factly brushing off Alys’s fervent thanks. On her advice, John had been watched carefully until the meal was ended, but he had slept heavily in a nest of plaids in one of the window bays, and had not woken when Nancy lifted him to carry him home. It seemed to be a natural sleep; his colour was good, his skin dry and neither cold nor hot.

‘Don’t think of it,’ said Kate firmly now. ‘John is safe, and home in his own crib, thanks be to God, and we’ve all learned a valuable lesson. I’ll have Andy secure the fence before nightfall, and Nancy and Mysie both will keep a closer eye on the bairns from now on. But I don’t mean,’ she went on, returning to her point, ‘that it was Ealasaidh herself. I think it must have been her fetch. Danger to the boy would be enough to summon someone like her. She’s an Erschewoman, after all, as Grace said. They can do strange things.’

Alys eyed her warily. ‘Gil has mentioned such things too,’ she said. ‘I find it — how can a living person be a ghost? And how would such a ghost know that Grace was the one to tell?’

Kate shook her head. ‘As well explain one as the other,’ she observed. ‘Whatever happened, the boy is unharmed, we’ll both be grateful to Grace Gordon all our days, and there’s no sign of whatever woman it was on the rest of the High Street.’

Questioning the men in the yard and Maister Syme who was in the shop next door had elicited no sighting of a woman such as Grace described. They could not work out how the visitant had reached Grace’s chamber without being seen by someone, the more so since the Renfrew house was busy with company as Meg’s contemporaries called to congratulate her and admire the baby and the maidservants came and went with refreshments.

In the middle of their enquiry, John Paterson had returned, somewhat chagrined to discover he had missed the excitement, with the news that he had found Andrew Hamilton, working on a roof at the college, but Andrew said he had already spoken to Maister Gil about it and couldny be spared from the task at hand if they were to finish afore dark.

‘I wonder what Gil learned from Andrew,’ Alys said, trying to distract herself.

‘Likely he’ll tell you later,’ said Kate. ‘Is there anyone else he’s yet to speak to?’

‘He mentioned Nell Wilkie this morning,’ Alys recalled. ‘And Nell’s mother asked me to have a word with her too. She was still weeping, yesterday afternoon. I–I forgot about it,’ she finished abruptly, remembering the occasion. Just before she — just before — Think about something else. Someone else’s troubles are the best distraction, Mère Isabelle had always said. ‘I could do that now, I suppose. She might say more to me than to Gil.’

‘Poor girl,’ said Kate. ‘She seemed very troubled when — when it happened, and I’d not think Nancy Sproull would have much sympathy for that kind of distemper.’

They looked at one another.

‘I wonder what she knows?’ said Alys.

‘Only one way to find out,’ said Kate. Her eyes lit up. ‘I could do with a diversion, after a morning like that, Alys. May I come too?’

‘And we can call in at St Mary’s,’ said Alys, ‘and give thanks for John’s safety.’

Alys stepped in at the gates of Wilkie’s dyeyard along the Gallowgate, Babb on her heels leading Kate’s mule. Maister Wilkie and his men were dipping a batch of indigo, two men sweating at the winding-gear to raise the bolt of cloth from the vat and Maister Wilkie himself inspecting it critically as the blue colour developed in the air. The characteristic pungent smell of the dyestuff met them on the chilly breeze.

The dyeyard was set out much like Morison’s Yard, with the house to one side, the working space to the other, succeeded by long open sheds where swathes of cloth hung drying under cover, and beyond them the garden where in the summer weld and rocket showed yellow flowers and now the broad leaves of next season’s woad spread flat and green. More things laid out invitingly for little boys -

Alys nodded to the dyers, turned towards the house and rattled at the pin by the latch. The maidservant who came to the door looked doubtful when she asked for Nell.

‘I don’t know about that,’ she said. ‘The lassie’s hardly ceased weeping since they cam home on Hallowe’en. Maybe you’d speak wi the mistress first, only she’s no very good the day. Will you come in, my leddy, mem, and I’ll fetch her?’

It was hardly surprising if Nancy Sproull was suffering, thought Alys, agreeing to the suggestion. Babb assisted Kate to dismount and handed her the crutches, then strode off to the kitchen, one of the men ran to take the mule, and the servant led them through the house, saying hopefully, ‘What was it happened? Is that right that Nanty Bothwell’s pysont the whole of the mummers, or is it just Dan Gibson that’s deid?’

‘It’s just the one man that died,’ Alys assured her, seeing Kate’s grim look. ‘Is Mistress Sproull in her own chamber, Sibby? Will we see ourselves there and save your feet?’

‘No, no, I’ll put you in the hall, for the mistress is in the kitchen, harrying the supper,’ said the woman, clearly reluctant to be parted from a source of information. ‘And what was it happened, then? Did he fall down dead in a moment, or was his belly afflicted first, or what? They’re saying the corp looks quite natural-like, as if he never felt a thing. And the quest on him’s put off till Monday, that should be a thing to hear!’

‘Very likely,’ said Alys, thinking that if this was one of her servants she would keep her home on Monday. ‘How is Nell?’

‘Still weeping, like I said.’ Sibby paused in the act of setting a chair for Kate as her mistress came into the hall. ‘Mistress? Here’s Lady Kate and Mistress Mason from the High Street.’

‘Och, Kate,’ said Nancy. ‘You shouldny ha bothered. How are you, my lassie? Are you recovered fro the fright yet? Sibby, fetch us a cup of ale, lass.’

‘I’ll feel the better for knowing who slew the lad,’ said Kate briskly. ‘And how are you, Nancy? How’s Nell?’

‘Oh, that lassie,’ said Nancy, putting a hand to her head. She drew up another chair and sat down opposite them, a pretty woman not yet forty, still slender, the dark-lashed eyes shadowed today. ‘She’s in her chamber still, would you credit it, hasny left it since we cam home from your house. If I hadny sic a headache I’d have her out of there, though to be fair she’s been busy at her sewing. Aye weeping, picked at her dinner which we put on a tray — she must be right sharp-set by now, the silly lassie. What it’s about she’ll no say, but it canny be Danny Gibson, her faither would never hear of her looking at a journeyman that young.’

Kate and Alys exchanged a glance, but neither commented.

‘Has Agnes Renfrew been by?’ Alys asked.

Nancy shook her head, and winced.

‘I’d not have looked for her, either,’ she said sourly. ‘It’s all one way wi that one. Nell’s aye ready at her bidding, but she’ll not go out her road to help Nell.’

‘It’s a strange household,’ said Kate speculatively. ‘I’m not sure any one of them has any love for another.’

‘A true word,’ agreed Nancy. ‘Agnes isny even that civil to Meg, the bonnie soul. Complaining that day when she fetched her cushion to her, of having to seek it all over the house, when Meg had told her where it was exact. All Sibella Bairdie’s fault, it was. If she’d gone her time wi her first bairn, Renfrew would never ha turned against her, and they’d ha reared the family in love and friendship as Holy Kirk teaches us. And here’s Dod and me only raised the one, for all our prayers, and Frankie got that daftheid Nicol, and then Eleanor, sour as verjuice, and Robert and Agnes that would neither of them lift a hand to save you if you were drowning.’

‘Is Nicol so daft?’ Kate wondered. ‘He’s come home with a bonnie wife. Grace Gordon’s a clever woman,’ her eyes flicked to Alys for a brief moment, ‘and wise with it.’

‘I’ll grant you that,’ agreed Nancy. ‘How a fellow like that managed to get himself such a wife I’ve no notion. Mind you, she lost the bairn.’

‘Yes, poor soul,’ agreed Kate, ‘and no luck with another one yet, she tells me.’

Nancy laughed shortly. ‘By what Dod says,’ she divulged, ‘as soon as Grace is howding, Frankie plans to pack Nicol off overseas again, and keep her here at his side, seeing what a good hand she is with the sweetmeats. That way he can rear the bairn himself.’

‘He will send his son away?’ Alys asked.

‘Oh, aye. He sent the lad to the Low Countries to get him out the way in the first place. I heard he wasny best pleased when he turned up again, and I think they’ve had one or two shouting matches since then.’ She turned as Sibby came in with the jug of ale and a handful of beakers. ‘Is that lass of ours in her chamber yet, Sibby?’

‘She is,’ agreed the woman.

‘Shall I go to her?’ Alys suggested. ‘She might talk to me. And would Sibby fetch her something to eat?’

‘Aye, and you’re a lass wi some sense,’ said Nancy, as she had done before. ‘See what you can make of her, my dear, for I canny tell what ails her.’

Nell was seated by the window in her chamber, a pile of sewing at her side, her beads in her hand. When the door opened she looked up wearily, obviously expecting her mother or Sibby; at the sight of Alys her expression lightened, and she mustered a smile from somewhere.

‘May I come in?’ Alys did not wait for the answer, but crossed the room to kiss the other girl in greeting. ‘Are you not well? Your mother says you’ve not eaten today.’

Nell’s colour rose. She was fully dressed but dishevelled and uncombed, and she had obviously been weeping.

‘I’m well,’ she said. ‘I just didny — I wasny hungry. Is there — is there any word from the Renfrews’ house?’

‘Meg is safe delivered, yesterday evening,’ Alys said, aware of those images stirring again in her memory. Don’t think of it, don’t think of it. ‘Agnes has a wee sister.’

‘My mammy said that.’ Nell sounded approving, but there was no smile at the thought. ‘How is she the day? And — did you see Agnes?’

‘Not to talk to, for she was not at the gossip-ale,’ Alys pointed out.

‘I suppose.’ Nell looked round, rose and fetched a stool for her guest, then flinched, visibly bracing herself as the door was flung open, and the maidservant entered with a platter and a jug.

‘I hear it’s a lassie at the Renfrew house,’ said the woman, setting the platter down on a kist by the door. ‘No doubt her man would rather a son. Mind, he’s no that well pleased wi the sons he has, so what he’d want wi another is anybody’s guess, but some folks is never satisfied wi what they’ve got. And had she an easy time of it? The mistress never said.’

‘No,’ said Alys. Don’t think of it -

‘Small wonder at that,’ said Sibby in satisfaction, ‘seeing the way she was frighted into it wi Nanty Bothwell murdering a man in front of her.’

‘That will do, Sibby,’ said Nell sharply. ‘Away back to the kitchen and let us talk.’

‘Hark at you!’ said Sibby, and left the room, closing the door ostentatiously. Nell made a face.

‘She’s been wi us a long time,’ she said, in partial apology. Alys rose and fetched the platter, which held oatcakes smeared with green cheese, and one apple cut in quarters.

‘Eat something, Nell,’ she coaxed. ‘You’ll feel more like yourself. What is it troubling you? Will you speak of it?’

‘You saw it too,’ Nell said. ‘You were there on the day. And the wee lassies and all.’

‘Gil got the lassies out of the chamber in time,’ Alys said. ‘I asked my good-sister — they were not troubled. The wee one was cross because she never saw the end of the play. Is it that troubles you?’

‘Aye,’ said Nell unconvincingly. ‘What a thing to happen afore them.’

‘Did you know Danny Gibson?’

‘No.’ The other girl turned her face away. Alys studied her carefully. She was acquainted with her, as she was with most of the women on the High Street, but though they were close in age she did not know her well. She was taller and slimmer than Agnes Renfrew, with oak-brown hair which fell in smooth waves round her shoulders when it was tended. Now it was tangled and untidy and the grey eyes which were Nell’s best feature were swollen with weeping. But was it grief, Alys wondered, or something else which made her weep?

‘It’s a dreadful thing, for a young man to be struck down in the midst of his fellows like that,’ she observed, ‘but it happens often enough. Folk fall sick, or an injury poisons the blood. Death can strike at any of us, as God wills it.’

‘Amen,’ agreed Nell in a small voice, and crossed herself.

‘Is it Maister Bothwell?’ Alys asked. ‘Held in the Tolbooth by the Serjeant. Is that what troubles you?’

‘Would it not trouble anybody,’ Nell said, with an assumption of more spirit, ‘a bonnie fellow like that to be taken up for murder. Especial when he — ’

‘When he what?’ prompted Alys. Nell shook her head. ‘When he never meant to? Is that what you were going to say?’

‘Well, a course he never meant to!’ said Nell. ‘They’re — they were good friends, him and Danny Gibson! Poor fellow,’ she turned her face away again, ‘lying there in the Tolbooth and thinking on his friend’s death.’

‘Your sympathy does you credit,’ said Alys gently. ‘Would it help you to pray for him?’

‘I’ve done little else the day,’ admitted Nell, ‘but pray for him and Agnes and — ’

‘Why Agnes? You think she needs your prayers? I’d have thought,’ she kept her tone light, ‘that now she’s rid of one sweetheart she can just take the other, and no need to decide between the two of them.’

‘It’s no that way,’ Nell said, and sniffled.

‘Which one did she favour?’

‘Neither of them!’ Nell rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. ‘She just likes having the two of them on a string, when there’s folk in Glasgow would be glad to call either of them — ’

‘Which is it you like?’ Alys asked, with a sinking heart.

‘I never meant myself!’ said Nell quickly.

‘That would be a wonder, two well-favoured young men like that. Is it Nanty Bothwell?’ After a moment Nell sniffled again, and nodded. ‘He’d be a good choice, he’s a good worker and has his own business, if only we can get this charge of murder dealt with.’

‘He’s a bonnie fellow,’ Nell repeated, and sighed heavily, ‘but he’s never looked my way, he can only see Agnes. And how could he — Serjeant Anderson’s decided he’s guilty, you could see that when he took him away!’

‘Serjeant Anderson is not the whole of the law,’ said Alys. ‘Nell, can you tell me anything about that flask? It seems it was the wrong one, but we can’t find out how it came into Nanty Bothwell’s hand. Did Agnes fetch it for him?’

‘Will he not say?’

‘He claims it was one of his own, but all the ones he had are accounted for, and so are the ones Wat Forrest took. It must have come from the Renfrew house, though Maister Renfrew denies it.’

‘He would, would Maister Renfrew,’ said Nell. ‘Agnes aye says her father likes nothing to stir in his house without he knows of it. It’s one of her chiefest pleasures to balk him in that.’

‘So she fetched Nanty the flask when he asked her to find him one.’

Nell looked at her and nodded. ‘But she never knew what was in it,’ she said earnestly. ‘She said, she thought it was her father’s drops, that he takes for his heart. She never thought it was poison. She was as stricken as any of us when Danny fell.’

‘Where did she get it from? Was it in her father’s workroom?’

‘She never said. We never spoke of it, till after — after — and then we hardly had time for more than a couple of words, what wi Meg — ’

She turned her face away again, rubbing at her eyes. Alys sat looking at her, considering what to do next.

‘I wonder,’ she said, half aloud, ‘why Agnes has not come forward to show the young man innocent.’

‘If she’d spoken in front of the Serjeant,’ objected Nell, ‘he’d ha taken her off in chains instead of Nanty.’ There was a pause, in which she seemed to go back over the conversation. ‘You said, If we can get this charge dealt with. Does that mean Maister Cunningham’s looking into it, the way he did when Maister Morison — ’

‘Yes,’ said Alys.

‘Then have you never asked her about it?’

‘Gil asked her last night,’ said Alys. ‘She denied all. Her father was there,’ she added.

‘She’d never admit it afore him,’ said Nell, still thinking. ‘Alys, does your man think Na — Maister Bothwell’s innocent?’

‘He thinks it was an accident,’ said Alys carefully, ‘and so do I. He gave Danny the poison, we all saw that, but we both think he never knew it was there.’

‘And he’s never said how he came by the flask,’ said Nell. Alys waited, and the other girl smiled crookedly. ‘He’s protecting her, I suppose. He’ll risk hanging, rather than get her into trouble. Well, I’m no such a fool. If we can get Agnes to come forward, Maister Bothwell will be safe, is that right?’

‘It depends on the Provost,’ Alys pointed out, ‘but I think Sir Thomas will see that.’

Almost unconsciously, Nell reached for an oatcake and bit into it.

‘D’you think maybe I should call on her?’ she said.

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