The Merchant's Mark (20 page)

‘What’s going on, anyway, Maister Gil?’ asked Rob, pushing Tam down on to the bench between them. ‘Are the Spitallers on our side or no? We drove off the thieves, and
then the Spital held us and searched us. I was feart that fellow Johan would be away wi my St Peter medal out my blanket. And now he’s to ride along wi us, whether you will or no.’

‘He was after bigger game than your medal,’ said Maistre Pierre, sitting down opposite.

‘He was, wasn’t he,’ agreed Gil. ‘Though Sir Raoul wouldny admit it. Here he comes,’ he added, as their new companion followed them into the tavern.

When the interrogation on the hillside was ended, the man Gray had been supplied with a few coins and a loaf from someone’s saddlebag, and offered a sight of Tam’s St Christopher
medal to ward off sudden death.

‘Look on St Christopher’s face and you willny die unshriven,’ Rob had said, borrowing the medal from his still-dazed colleague.

The man had been genuinely grateful. Gil had watched him trudge away along the track to make for Edinburgh, and then remarked to the Hospitaller, ‘Now why should the Preceptory be
interested in this?’

‘Have I said it is?’ asked Sir Raoul lightly. ‘Our concern is for justice and the King’s Peace on our lands.’

‘So what did you hope to find in our baggage?’

‘Nothing,’ said Sir Raoul. ‘And nothing was what we found.’

‘Nothing,’ said Gil deliberately, ‘in a small heavy bundle.’

The Hospitaller turned and looked directly at him. ‘You cannot expect me,’ he observed, ‘to discuss the Preceptory’s business with chance-met travellers.’

‘It was no chance,’ said Maistre Pierre at Gil’s shoulder.

‘And we are involved in the business already,’ Gil added, ‘if half Linlithgow can be raised to steal our baggage. It would surely benefit both parties if we were to share
information.’

‘I cannot discuss the Preceptory’s business,’ said Sir Raoul again, on a faint note of apology. ‘Excuse me.’ He strode away from them towards Johan, who was
inspecting the still-dazed second prisoner a little way away. Gil and the mason looked at one another, and Rob spoke up from where he and Luke were sharing a flask of something.

‘Can we no get on the road, Maister Gil? We’ll no be where we’re going afore Prime at this rate.’ He rose, and came over to his master. ‘And another thing,’
he said quietly. ‘This lot were after us right enough.’ Gil looked enquiringly at him. ‘Him they cry Johan, he said something to their leader in High Dutch. I canny speak it that
well, but I can understand it, from when Matt and me was away at the wars, and he was saying we was the band some laddie had tellt them was on the road.’

‘Simmie,’ said Gil. ‘I’ll wager that was his errand. But why should St Johns be interested in our barrel?’

‘You said Treasurer Knollys was eager for you to ask questions in Ayrshire rather than the Lothians,’ said Maistre Pierre.

‘Maybe it was one of theirs that was in the barrel,’ suggested Rob. ‘You thocht he was a fighting man, maister.’

‘Maybe,’ said Gil thoughtfully. He turned as Sir Raoul approached. ‘We must be on our way, sir. The day wears on.’

‘True,’ agreed the other. ‘And you do not wish to be held up again. For that reason,’ he said politely, ‘I have commanded Johan to ride with you, as
protection.’

Gil had attempted, civilly, to decline the man’s company, but Maistre Pierre had said suddenly, ‘Let him join us, Gil. Our friend is right. Another sword may be of
assistance.’

Now, in Bathgate, on one of the major routes between Edinburgh and Glasgow, they had paused for food. Johan slid along the bench to sit by Maistre Pierre, and nodded at the group.

‘Ve go far?’ he asked, in horribly accented Scots.

‘We go to Roslin,’ said Gil.

‘Roslin? Ver dwells Sinclair?’

‘Aye,’ agreed Gil. The inn-servant slapped a platter of boiled salt fish and bread in front of them, and stood with his hand out for the money. Gil opened his purse and counted out
the coins, while the others helped themselves to the food. Johan, when invited, took a portion and ate moderately, casting thoughtful looks at Gil from time to time. He had removed helm and coif,
revealing short fair hair and a strip of pale skin between the hairline and the weatherbeaten tan of his bony face.

‘The man Gray,’ said Maistre Pierre through a large mouthful, ‘told us little of value.’

‘You heard it, did you?’

‘I did. We know, I suppose, that he was hired by this Archibald – Baldy – and another with a feathered hat, to steal from us something in a pack which had belonged to their
master, and which had been sought and not found, by Baldy or another, at Leith.’

‘We’d a horse we cried Baldy once,’ said Tam vaguely, ‘for the white spot on his broo. A good goer he was an all.’

‘A fair summary,’ agreed Gil, ignoring this, and took a bite of bread and fish. ‘And we heard of a man with a feathered hat,’ he added, switching to French. Johan
frowned, watching them.

‘The same, you think?’

‘Or a coincidence.’

‘Mm.’ Maistre Pierre took another wedge of bread. ‘And what have we got, or not got, that they are after? The load that went to Stirling, or something else?’

‘And why is the Spital interested? They had obviously heard a lot about us,’ observed Gil in Scots.

‘How so?’ asked the mason, annexing the last pickled onion. ‘Shall we have more food?’ He waved to the man at the tap of the big barrel without waiting for an answer.

‘De Brinay knew I was a lawyer,’ Gil said, and looked down at his dark clothing. ‘I may be soberly dressed, but my inkhorn and pen-case are out of sight in my baggage. I never
said to Riddoch what my calling might be, though I know you named your own, and we left these three out in the street. So the Spital never got the information from him.’ He glanced at Johan,
who looked enigmatically back at him. ‘Either Simmie brought that word as well as the rest from Sinclair this afternoon, or they knew about us already.’

‘Out in the street,’ muttered Tam. ‘There was something . . .’

‘What is it, man?’ asked Rob, looking at him in concern.

‘Something I’ve forgot, when we were out in the street. Did someone speak to us?’

‘Half the lassies o Linlithgow,’ said Rob, grinning. ‘You were cawin’ the pump handle to them for kisses.’

‘I never!’ said Tam in alarm.

‘No, you never,’ said Luke, despite Rob’s grimaces. ‘He’s having you on.’

‘If you kick me again,’ said Maistre Pierre to Rob, ‘I will eat your share of the food.’

‘Someone did speak to us,’ said Tam, and rubbed his forehead. ‘Who was it?’

The second platter of bread and fish disappeared more slowly. Gil shared a great hunk of bread with Socrates, and tore a portion of stockfish into shreds for the dog, relishing as always the
contrast between the strong, sharp teeth set in the narrow, powerful jaw and the delicate, well-bred manners the animal displayed.

‘Well,’ he said, licking onion sauce off his fingers when the platter was empty, ‘shall we ride on? Tam, are you fit, man? Maybe I should have taken you to your kin at the
Wheetflett.’

‘Kin,’ muttered Tam, edging along the bench after Rob. ‘Kin. That’s it. He said kin.’

‘What are you on about?’ demanded Rob.

‘Is it what you’d forgot?’ Luke asked.

‘Aye,’ said Tam, and lurched to his feet. ‘Aye, Maister Gil, I’ll manage, never you worry. But that’s it, right enough. That’s what I’d forgot. When we
were at the well, the three of us, waiting for you and Maister Mason,’ he said earnestly, hobbling after Gil to the door, ‘a man cam down the vennel from the place you were in first.
The lute-maker’s, was it? Well clad, he was. Might ha been the lute-maker hisself.’

‘So?’ said Gil, helping his servant over the doorsill.

‘He said to me, Was I with those two men that were there just now. I said, Aye I was, since there wereny two other men thegither, saving us, in the street at the time,’ he added,
grinning. ‘And he said, Tell your maister, he said, that Barty Fletcher, would that be the right name?’

‘It would,’ said Gil. ‘Go on.’

‘That Barty Fletcher has kin in Roslin.’ He looked uncertainly at Gil’s expression. ‘That was all he said, Maister Gil. And then he turned and went back up the
vennel.’

‘It must have been terrifying,’ said Alys, her brown eyes round. Not, Kate noted,
You must have been terrified
, but,
It must have been terrifying.

‘I’d not have forgiven myself,’ said Augie Morison earnestly, ‘if you’d come to any harm, Lady Kate. Whatever he was after, it could never have been worth
that.’

‘It’s one thing about a life of pilgrimage,’ Kate said lightly. ‘You meet soon or late with every ragabash in Scotland. Babb and I have trapped pilferers before now
– though never so redhand,’ she admitted.

They were seated in the castle courtyard on a bench, which two of the Provost’s men had carried out for Kate rather than have Babb heave her up and back down several turns of the tower
stair to Maister Morison’s lodging. About them, members of the castle household scurried back and forth carrying furniture and rolled-up tapestries, readying the Archbishop’s lodging
for the arrival of the King’s party the next day.

‘But what was he after?’ Alys asked.

‘The second half of the treasure. He seemed quite certain it should be there.’

Morison shook his head, biting his lip.

‘I took him for an honest man,’ he said sadly. ‘Well, as honest as any of them.’

‘Most of us are honest till we’re tempted,’ said Kate. ‘I think maybe Billy was tempted beyond his limits.’

‘By the man with the axe,’ said Alys, nodding.

‘Axe? What man with an axe?’

‘We saw him in Hog’s tavern,’ Alys explained.

Morison looked from one to the other of them in horror.

‘What have you lassies been up to?’ he demanded, and then, ‘I’m sorry, Lady Kate, that slipped out. But what your brother will say when he hears this I just don’t
know.’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t tell you, then,’ said Kate.

‘I’ve heard this much,’ he said. ‘I’d better hear the rest.’

‘Oh, it gets worse,’ said Kate. She recounted the episode in the Gallowgait, while Morison’s mobile face reflected amazement, anxiety, concern, and finally a stern
determination.

‘Lady Kate,’ he said when she had finished, ‘I can’t accept any more help if it brings you into sic danger. You could have been badly hurt there in the tavern, and as for
Billy Walker breaking into the chamber where you lay sleeping, well! I can’t bear to think of it. I must ask you to leave my house, my lady, and go back to your uncle’s in
Rottenrow.’

‘What, and leave your bairns alone?’ said Kate. He paused, open-mouthed. ‘I’m not finished, Maister Morison.’

‘Aye you are. I’ll send the bairns to our Con out at Bothwell,’ he said, recovering himself. ‘Andy can take them. Con’s got an altar at St Bride’s, you know
that, he can surely find a woman in the town to mind them till I can bring them home again. The Provost’s men will question Billy and learn what he knows, and you can stay out of it in
safety, Lady Kate. And yoursel, Mistress Mason,’ he added belatedly.

Kate exchanged a glance with Alys past Morison’s shoulder.

‘I’m still not finished, maister,’ she said. ‘There’s more to tell you yet. I said it gets worse, and it does.’

‘Why, what’s happened? Not the bairns?’ exclaimed Morison in alarm.

‘No, no, the bairns are well. One of Mistress Mason’s lassies is with them just now,’ she assured him, ‘teaching them to play at merry-ma-tanzie.’ She took a
breath, and plunged on before he could interrupt again. ‘No, maister. Last night, after all was quiet again, there was a second inbreak. Whoever it was, he never got into the house, but he
found where we’d shut Billy in the coalhouse.’

‘And?’ He looked intently at her face, and read the news there. Appalled, he put out a hand and covered hers where they lay in her lap. ‘Lady Kate, you’ve met a deal of
trouble and pain for me. Was it you found him?’ She shook her head, thinking of the moment when Andy had stumbled into the house, grey-faced with shock, blood on his boots. ‘Our Lady be
praised for that mercy, at least. How was he killed?’

‘Cut to pieces,’ said Kate carefully. ‘With an axe, or something of the sort.’

‘With an
axe
?’ Morison looked down at his hand, retrieved it hastily, and crossed himself. ‘Our Lord have mercy on him,’ he muttered, and both girls said
Amen.
After a moment he continued, ‘Did nobody hear anything? The other men? Ursel? No, Ursel wouldn’t hear the Last Trump once she gets to snoring. How did he get in the yard,
Lady Kate?’

‘The same way Billy did, Andy reckons,’ said Kate, ‘up from the stable yett. Babb and I never heard a thing. One of the men said he thought he heard shouting, or maybe
something fall, out in the yard not long before dawn, but there was nothing else so he jaloused it was maybe a cat. Andy had a word to say to him about that, but as he said, who’d have
thought there would be two inbreaks in the one night?’

Morison nodded, took a deep breath, and passed a hand down across his face. ‘Have you taken it to the Provost?’

‘We told him first,’ said Alys. ‘He agreed you must be informed, maister.’

‘I’m grateful.’ He smiled wryly. ‘At least I think so. The poor fellow. God and Our Lady have mercy on him,’ he said again. ‘Lady Kate, you must see –
this is not safe for you. Tell me you’ll go back to your uncle’s house.’

‘Babb’s with me,’ said Kate, looking across the yard at her waiting-woman, who was towering over the two men at the castle gate. ‘She’s an army in
herself.’

‘Not against a man with an axe. I want you out of my house, my lady.’

‘That’s not very friendly,’ she reproached.
‘I am right glad when ye will go And sory when ye will come
, is that it?’

He coloured up. ‘Once this is done wi you’ll be a welcome guest if you choose, but right now it’s not safe. Lady Kate, I beg you, will you go back to Rottenrow?’

‘Aye, when I know the bairns are safe.’

‘Send Andy to me when you get back down the brae,’ said Morison. ‘I’ll gie him his orders. If you’d just let him have a bit coin out the small kist in the
counting-house – I’ll gie you the key. Ursel can show you where it is.’ He patted his doublet, and drew a key on a chain from inside it.