Friend & Foe (14 page)

‘God help him, then,’ said Hew. ‘The boy is an anatomist; a cunning one at that. But he is not a witch. But tell me one thing more. You were at St Mary’s at the wedding lecture, and you saw the bleeding tree. Do you think that Roger was responsible for that?’

‘He may have been responsible,’ Robert Black considered, ‘if he is a witch.’

‘Put that from your mind,’ insisted Hew, ‘for the bleeding hawthorn was not done by witchcraft. It was a bladder filled with blood, and just the sort of trick that might have been imagined by a boy like Roger, who likes to cut up animals and make his friends afraid of him.’ He felt in his pocket for the shepherd’s sling, remembering what the boy had said,
It is not a weapon for a proper man
.

‘Then I do not see how. For he was kept here at the college, at the master’s side.’

‘And his brother James?’

‘James was at the lecture, with the other tertians. He was in the hall. I cannot see a way in which he could be implicat.’

Nor, for the moment, could Hew. But he was not prepared yet to discount the possibility. ‘What sort of man is he?’

‘As unlike his brother as you could conceive. By all accounts, he is a model student, thoughtful, proper and devout, and well liked by his friends. I hear but small report of him, and all of that is good. He is greatly troubled by this business with his brother, and has tried to plead for him . . . He is grieving sorely at it, for his mother’s sake.’

‘I must thank you, Robert,’ Hew acknowledged, thoughtful. ‘Now I am prepared.’

‘Then I will wish you luck with it. I know you will not take it very much amiss, when I say I hope you will not call again.’

Hew left Robert to his books and crossed the quiet square. He took a moment then, to look back at the stone trance and the little church, where on countless Sundays he had said his prayers, and on to the refectory, the common hall and schools. He did not for a moment think their kindness could be closed to him, that there would come a time, when he could not return.

Chapter 14

An Uncommon Kindness

The room had been stripped of its contents, apart from a low trundle bed. On the bed was a grey woollen blanket, a slim book of psalms, in the Latin, and a bare-footed boy, in breeches and shirt, who sat at the top of it, clutching his knees. A boy of fourteen, small for his age. His left cheek was swollen, blue as a plum, and his dark hair was puddled with filth. There was blood on his collar, and filth on his face, but Hew noticed no trace of tears.

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘
Magister
.’

As though all masters were the same. Roger did not seem to notice, or perhaps to care about, his own predicament. Perhaps he had been damaged by a blunt blow to the head. He would not be the first.

‘I am Hew Cullan, lawman at St Salvator’s. You may speak in Scots.’

‘Do I want a lawyer, then?’

‘Sincerely, I hope not. But we have met before, when you were a boy, at your father’s house.’

‘I do not recall.’

Was it possible, thought Hew, that those momentous weeks, that led to Richard’s death, were wiped from Roger’s mind? ‘I stayed for several weeks.’

‘I do not recall that, sir.’

‘I knew your father well.’

‘I do not remember him.’

In the court outside, a bell began to ring. They heard hurried footsteps, several doors were closed, a flurried snatch of laughter drifted from the quad. Something in its echo seemed to wake the boy. ‘I must go now, sir. Or I will be late for the lecture.’

‘Did they not tell you? You are expelled.’

The boy stared at his hands. ‘They did. I had forgotten it.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘For that I put some muck on Andro Melville’s door, defouling his clean house.’

‘And why did you do that?’

‘To make them like me here. They do not like me much.’

‘There is a bangstrie in the college,’ Hew reflected, ‘that is no better now than when I was a student. I stayed here, in a room like this. I had forgotten how sparing, how Spartan it was.’

‘There were more comforts, once. They took away my things. I do not know if they will give them back.’

‘Then we will have to look into that. I shared with a friend. But you seem to lie here alone.’

‘There was someone else, once,’ Roger admitted. ‘He fell sick of a pest, and they sent him home. I did not miss him much. I do not remember his name.’

‘Why did you throw muck at Andrew Melville’s house? Did someone set you on to it? Or was it your idea?’

‘I thought of it myself.’ Hew believed him then. For Roger’s quiet answer had a note of pride in it; he was Richard’s son.

‘I climb out at night. There is a tree by the wall. Everyone kens.’

Hew nodded. The exit from the college was an open secret, in evidence when he was a boy. New masters came and went, and none had put a stop to it. He had climbed out there himself.

‘I spend a lot of time, in the fields and by the shore. I found the garden door, at the college of St Mary’s. It is left unlocked at night, for the coming of the night man, to dig out the latrines.’

‘You do not shy from muck,’ Hew concluded, grimly. ‘That will serve you well, if you have to end your days as a gong-fermer’s servant.’

Roger was unmoved by this. ‘Muck is like flesh; it is what we are made of. It is a natural thing. I saw the port was open, and that gave me the idea.’

‘I do not think you understand the damage you have caused.’

‘To Master Melville’s house?’

‘Not there. If that was your intention it was sadly flawed. Do you think he cares a whistle for one spot of your manure? That you can dint a heart like his, with a stinking clod of shit? He is a braver man than you, and a better one at that.’ Hew wanted to provoke the boy into a show of feeling, and he dispensed with gentleness.

‘I ken that,’ Roger said. ‘I meant him no ill will. I am sorry that I smeared the kind face of his house, but it could not be helped.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Master Andro’s house has two sides; the proud side, that looks out onto the street, and the kind side, that looks in.

‘And I am sorry that I had to put the muck upon the kind side, but there was no jeopardy in coming from the street. I did not want the collegers to see how it was done. I told them muck would come on Andro Melville’s house. I wanted them to think that I could make it happen. They were all of them afeared, of the bleeding hawthorn tree.’

‘Did you make that happen, too?’ Hew was sure he had.

Roger stared down at his hands. ‘How could I do that? I was not there.’

‘Then you were not afeared, to pass the bleeding tree, alone, and in the dark?’

‘I was not afeared. I do not believe their tales of magic spells. My interest is in physick and in natural philosophy.’

Hew retorted, dryly, ‘So much have I heard.’ He undid the pocket that was hanging from his belt, uncurled the shepherd’s sling and placed it on the bed. If he had expected Roger to react to it, some flicker of alarm to show in the boy’s face, then he was disappointed. The boy regarded it with little curiosity. ‘What is that for?’

‘It is a shepherd’s sling. I had it from the miller’s son, whose mill is on my land. I think it was used in the trick with the hawthorn,’ Hew explained.

‘What kind of trick was that?’

‘Someone tied a bladder to the branches, filled with blood, and burst it with a stone.’

A smile crossed Roger’s face. ‘How did you find out?’

‘With the help of Doctor Locke, it was not hard to discern.’

‘That was clever, then.’

It was not clear whether Roger was admiring Hew’s powers of deduction or the trick itself, but Hew felt certain he knew more than he was willing to admit. Before he could examine further, they were interrupted by a light knock on the door, and an older boy appeared, of seventeen or so, carrying a jacket and a pair of shoes. ‘They said your coat was spoiled. I brought you one of mine. I beg your pardon, sir,’ he said to Hew in Latin, ‘but they told me you were here. You cannot know how glad I am to see you. I have pleaded for his place here, but to no avail. Is there any way that you can help him?’

Roger introduced him. ‘This is my brother James. He is vexed with me for annoying Master Andro. He hoped that he might go into the kirk, and thinks that Master Andro will not take him now.’

‘Hush your foolish tongue,’ hissed James. ‘Put on the coat and shoes.’

‘I do not want your cast-offs,’ Roger said.

‘You should have thought of that before you dabbled in the shit – I am so sorry, sir, but he has no conception of the trouble he is in – you must put on the clothes, and go with Master Hew.’

‘Why would I go with him?’

The brother shook his head, helplessly and hopelessly. ‘Can you excuse him, sir? I scarcely dare to ask it, when you have done so much for us, but for our mother’s sake . . .’

‘What has he done for us?’ interrupted Roger, who clearly knew his Latin just as well as James.

‘Why, paid our fees and such.’

‘But I did not know that! Why did you not tell me?’

For some reason, noted Hew, Roger seemed roused up by this, or interested, at least. He thought that
agitated
was perhaps too strong a word.

‘For I supposed you knew . . . Roger, what is that?’ The boy had picked up the string, which Hew had left on his bed, and ran it through his hands.

‘It is a shepherd’s sling. Master Hew thinks it was used in the bleeding of the hawthorn tree.’

Hew thought he detected the flicker of a smile.

‘Please tell me,’ James begged softly, ‘you have not confessed to that!’

Roger shook his head. Hew answered in his place. ‘Is there any reason why he should?’

‘It would be like him, after all. He thinks it is a game.’

‘I understand you, perfectly,’ said Roger from the bed.

His brother hesitated. ‘And it please you, sir, may we talk outside?’

‘This is all my fault,’ James confided, once the door was closed.

‘Tell me,’ Hew suggested. He saw a straight young man, with an earnest, open face, worry for his brother clear etched in his frown. Where Roger was slender and small, and dark, as his father had been, James was broad-shouldered, fair like his mother, and half a head taller than Hew.

‘I have not been the brother he deserves . . .’

The story tumbled out as James revealed his qualms, reverting into Scots. ‘In his first term he had a bedfellow who contracted a wasting sickness, and had to quit the college. He was a good friend to Roger, and Roger missed him sorely. He is not a bad boy and he badly wants a friend, whatever he will tell you; he is full of braggery. I have not been a friend to him. Some of the scholars here were cruel enough to say that Roger put a spell on him, and so had caused his sickness – as to the truth of that you may consult Professor Locke,
for he looked to that boy, and he will tell you plainly that it was not so. That boy was sick and frail before he ever came here.’

‘I did not for a moment,’ Hew assured him, ‘think it so.’

‘I should have stepped in then, and put a stop to it. The truth is, I did not. I thought him weak and strange, and I felt quite ashamed, to have such a brother, that was queer and quent, and I was feared his queerness would reflect on me. And so I let him be, and woefully neglected him, ignoring those who taunted him. Do you understand me, sir?’

Hew believed he did. The brother’s raft of guilt was mirrored in his own.

‘So he began to play up to their taunts, and answer to their tyranny by making them afeared of him. And I have no doubt, he wanted them to think he was behind the hawthorn tree, and that was why he went to Andrew Melville’s house, for he had telt the scholars here that filth came after blood, so that they would think that he had special powers. The silly, wretched bairn! He has no idea what harm he may have done.’

‘He did not, I suppose, predict the bloody tree?’ Hew felt certain still that Roger had a part in this.

‘How could he have done? For he knew nothing of it, nothing in advance of it – I know, sir, that you wanted none of us to speak of it but rumour flew out like wildfire after we returned. Roger heard it then, along with all the rest.’

‘You were at the lecture,’ Hew observed.

‘I was sir, and I saw the hawthorn.’ James confessed. ‘I did not speak to Roger of it. He needs little fuel to fire his silly games.’

‘Then you acted properly. How did you imagine that the trick was done?’

‘I did not imagine it. I had no idea. But I saw you take the samples, and I did believe that you would find it out. I know that you are practised, and clever, at these things. I did not for a moment think that it was magic. And as Master Andro tells us, miracles have ceased.’

‘Then you are more sensible and rational than your friends.’ Hew stood thoughtful for a moment. ‘Is it true what Roger says, that you have a mind to go into the Kirk?’

‘I have been thinking of it. But I do not suppose that it will happen now.’

‘I do not see why not, if that is what you wish. Andrew will not fault you for your brother’s sin. He is not the kind of man. And I could speak to him about it, if you wish. But would you not prefer to go into the law?’

‘I do not think so, sir. I came, last year, to some of your lectures,’ James confided, shyly. ‘The
de legibus
, and the Justinian.’

‘Then it is no wonder you were turned from law,’ Hew smiled at this, ‘in favour of the kirk.’

‘By no means so. I found them interesting, and inspired with a strong, intellectual and inquiring spirit. But I am not so subtle, sir. Roger is the clever one.’

‘Perhaps,’ suggested Hew, ‘Roger’s natural instincts lie elsewhere. Did you know he kept a dead cat in his room?’

James had looked away before Hew could decipher the expression on his face. His voice was low and fearful. ‘You must understand, it is not what you may think. He likes to cut things up. But I had no idea that he pursued his interest here. How can I persuade you that he means no harm by it?’

‘You do not have to,’ Hew assured him, ‘for I understand it perfectly. Roger wants good counsel, and a guiding hand. And I can see a future for him, though it is not here.’

‘You think that there is hope for him? Then I cannot tell you, sir, how grateful we must be to you.’ James knelt down, to Hew’s great shame, and kissed the master’s hand.

‘Ah, do not!’ Hew cried. ‘Ye maunna thank me, James. I would be a friend to you. I owed your father that. But tell me one thing more. Your brother may have hit his head. Does he always seem so strange?’

‘How strange, sir?’ asked James. ‘He is difficult and curious, as he was before. He is a vexing boy.’

‘He told me he does not recall his father. Could that be the case? Was it so before?’

A shadow passed across the scholar’s face. His answer, when it came, was guarded and reserved. ‘I have no idea. It is not something that we like to talk about. Here, or at home.’

Hew caught a glimpse into the loss that haunted both the boys.

Roger was still sitting, quiet on his bed. ‘What did my brother say about me?’

‘He said you could not possibly have been behind the hawthorn trick,’ Hew reported cheerfully, ‘for you are not clever enough.’

Roger said, ‘Ha,’ declining to rise to this. ‘What happens now?’

‘Shoes on, and coat on, and quick, if you please. You are my charge, and are coming with me. And I will have
that
,’ Hew held out his hand for the sling.

‘I think you are wrong about that,’ Roger said, giving it up. ‘It is the wrong kind of weapon to burst a ball of blood. You should ask your miller’s son if he has a pellock bow, a bow for little stones.’

He followed at Hew’s back, meek as any child, until they were about to leave the college grounds, where they met the principal coming from the kirk, who would have passed them by, with a curt nod of the head, had not Roger spoken to him, ‘
Vale
, professor.’

‘
Vale
,’ the master muttered.

‘May I not have your blessing, sir, since I am to leave?’

‘What? Ah yes, indeed. God go with you, child.’ The provost cleared his throat.

‘And may I have my cat?’