Time and Tide (27 page)

‘That is the case,' admitted Hew.

‘Then so it seems to me that there is little purpose in your staying here in town. It is rather to be hoped that a distant, measured gaze may turn a sharper angle on the people in the crowd, where from a close perspective, your vision may be skewed. And I shall set the garrison to closely guard the mill, and make it known that no decision will be made upon her fate, until we have the news that you report from Ghent. And that, I think, will stay the killer's hand, that by the grace of God, we may see no more deaths. And meanwhile, no petitions shall be heard.'

‘Nor that of your own brother?' Hew inferred.

The coroner replied, ‘I do not understand you, sir.'

‘Your brother, Robert Wood, who has been most assiduous in his claims to the windmill.'

‘Ah, now, I see!' Sir Andrew Wood acknowledged, for the first time, smiling openly. ‘You have fallen for the common misconception that I favour my own brother, Robert Wood. Aye, you do think that – and yet there's more!' The coroner began to laugh. ‘You must learn to dissemble, Hew! You think that I am sending you to Ghent, to protect my brother from suspicion of these crimes. Yet, I can assure you, that is not the case.'

He was serious again. ‘Do you have any reason to suspect my brother?'

Hew admitted he had not. ‘Yet both the men who died were engaged to work his mill.'

‘That is true enough,' conceded Andrew Wood. ‘Yet since the deaths were plainly to his disadvantage, he can hardly be indicted on that count. You should know, sir, that my brother is no different in my eyes from any other man. And if you bring me evidence that Robert is a murderer, then I will take him to the gibbet and hang him there myself. And I will do it without passion or pity, or conscience, or grief. So you must understand me, if you are to be my man.'

‘God help me, for I do,' said Hew. ‘And though I will go to Ghent for you, I will not be your man.'

‘Then I doubt that must suffice,' the coroner said cheerfully. ‘In truth though,' he concluded, ‘there may be a reason yet to keep you far from Robert, for his silly young wife Clare has lost her heart to you.'

‘But we have scarcely met!' Hew protested with a start.

‘Yet you have impressed her. For it was at their house I heard your praises sung, not, as I misremembered it, by Robert, but by Clare. Clare is weak and vulnerable, and women of her sort are more treacherous and deadly than the villain with his sword, for they
twine their grasping fingers in the sinews of your heart. Beware her, Hew, and all her kind,' Andrew Wood advised.

‘I fear that you have lost me, sir,' Hew shook his head in bafflement. ‘For I have not the slightest notion what you mean.'

‘Then see you keep it so. As to the matter, now,' the coroner returned, ‘I have brought with me the letters and book, that I wish you to take with you to the beguinage in Ghent, to the woman, Beatrix, to whom they are addressed. Take also Jacob's ring, which you will recover in the morning from Professor Locke. You may spend a moment in your sister's house, making your farewells, yet your visit must be brief. There is a ship sailing from Dundee to Campvere. God willing, it will sail in four days' time; since winter now draws close, boats are few and far between. Once you are in the nether lands, you will have four or five weeks, at the most, before the last ship sails, or you may find yourself stranded until spring. Michael here will go with you, and take you to the ship.'

‘There is no need for that,' objected Hew. The coroner ignored him. ‘Michael,' he repeated, ‘will take you to the ship. I have letters here prepared for the shipman, Master Beck, and for George Hacket, who is our Conservator at the staple of Campvere. They will furnish you with everything you need. From Campvere, you must make your way to Ghent, by whatever means you can. You will understand, the countries are at war, and our influence does not extend beyond the port of Vlissingen. I do not know if the roads or waterways are passable. Hacket will be better placed to tell you more.

‘I will furnish you with all the papers you will need. As you are aware, you will require a passport when you leave Campvere; the staple is itself a special case and you may assume you are on Scottish soil, such privilege as you will find there extended to you. Consider it safe haven, and Hacket as your friend. Trust those he trusts, and I would advise you, no one else. Always expect the worse, until you know the better of a man. Yet that lesson as I know, you have learned from your experience.'

Hew flinched at this, as Andrew Wood went on, ‘Four sets of papers are required, together with the wherewithal for bribes, as you are to pass from place to place. And Hacket will provide a man, that kens the Flemish tongue.'

‘I do not want a man, for I prefer to go alone,' Hew retorted quickly.

Sir Andrew sighed. ‘But that is rank stupidity, as you must surely know,' he pointed out. ‘Since you do not know the politics, or lying of the land, and you do not ken the Dutch, and the country is at war, then tis plain enough to see that you cannot go alone. Hacket will provide a man, and that will be an end to it.'

Hew had to concede there was some sense in this, yet privately determined he would hire a man, and not of Hacket's choice, who was no doubt in the pocket of Sir Andrew Wood.

‘And the man that he provides,' Sir Andrew Wood concluded, ‘will go with you to Ghent. Are we then agreed?'

‘We are agreed, said Hew. ‘Yet may I ask you something?'

‘Aye, you may.'

‘You are Lord Comptroller to the royal court. The man that is the pocket to the king.'

‘For my sins, I am.'

‘And yet the king no longer has control.'

The coroner corrected him. ‘The king is safe and well, and we have stable government, under the Earl of Gowrie.'

‘And what of Monsieur d'Aubigny, the so-called Duke of Lennox?'

‘The so-called Duke of Lennox,' Andrew Wood repeated, ‘is no longer in the close sphere of King James' influence. He is expected, very shortly, to depart for France. It is a state of affairs that sits well in London, with the Queen Elizabeth. And I myself cannot be sorry his excesses have been curbed, for as you have observed, I hold the purse strings to the pockets of the king. Does that answer your question?'

‘It does not, sir,' Hew challenged boldly. ‘For I would wish to know whence your commission comes.'

‘As I think you do know,' answered Andrew Wood, ‘I have it from the Crown.'

‘Ah, the Crown!' smiled Hew. ‘And what is that? Is that King James, or Gowrie? Is it Arran, or Lennox, or the lord enterprisers? You say that I am watched; then tell me who is watching me. Tell me, if you will, whose man are you?'

‘I think you understand, I cannot answer that,' the coroner returned.

The next day, Hew set out, with Sir Andrew's servant Michael at his side. The coroner had also left behind a horse, which Michael would return to him once Hew was on the ship. He was glad enough to leave Dun Scottis safely banked, where a quiet winter pasture kept him safe from risk, for Dun Scottis was a horse who seldom travelled well. He wrapped the documents carefully, mindful of past accidents. Yet the presence of the escort, and the unfamiliar mare, felt faintly disconcerting, as though he were a renegade and taken under guard. Hew himself was armed with dagger and a sword, and in command of both, in case of dire necessity. He made the man stand patient while he broke his fast, more to prove a point than from a wish to cause delay, for the thought of an excursion, on this bright October day, had wakened up an impetus he realised that he had not felt for several sluggish months. In his inner heart, he was anxious to be off. He forced himself to stay awhile, and sit through the formalities of breaking bread with Nicholas. And at his friend's request, he knelt awhile to pray with him, that he should not depart without the blessing of the house.

The gift horse was nimble and slight, taking to the track with a lightness, ease and grace that cast a poor reflection on the dull trudge of Dun Scottis. Hew resolved to enjoy the ride, in the cool fresh sunlight, and ignore the brooding presence of the servant by his side. He gathered momentum, flying on the wind at a speed Dun Scottis had not thought of in his dreams.

‘You must pace the horse, else you will tire him out afore we
reach the ferry port,' the man advised repressively. He spoke no other word for the whole of the four miles.

Hew dismounted at the abbey wall, and gave the man his horse to hold, walking to the Swallow Gait. Since it was early still, he found both Giles and Meg at home. They were sharing breakfast in the nether hall, with Matthew settled in Meg's lap. Hew noticed that his upper bands were loose, and his fists waved free. ‘The fury is unbound.'

‘It is only for a moment,' Meg explained. She caught the infant's hands. ‘He is about to have his bath. Would you like to see it, Hew?'

‘I do not think so,' answered Hew. He supposed that infants, since they must be swaddled, also must be washed. He could not for a moment think why he might want to see it.

‘For certain,' Giles said dotingly, ‘Hew must see him bathed.'

‘Another time,' said Hew, ‘for I am going to Ghent.' He took a childish pleasure in their faces as they gawped at him, which later he remembered with regret.

‘I do not like it, Hew,' concluded Meg, once Hew had told his tale. ‘I do not like it well at all. Why would he send you far away, at this unhappy time? Surely, he can use you better here?'

‘There is some little sense in it,' reflected Giles. ‘And yet I think the profit there may not be worth the risk. The countries are at war.'

Meg set Matthew back into his crib and began to rock him gently with her foot.

‘Do not eat the damsons,' cautioned Giles, ‘or they will give him colic.'

‘So you have informed me, several times. I do not think that he should go,' said Meg. ‘For it will prove too dangerous.'

‘You ken your brother well enough by now, to know that you have put the devil's argument. Tis danger that attracts him, beyond doubt,' Giles returned.

‘Then tell him,' pleaded Meg, ‘he must not go.'

‘I cannot, for you know that he will do what he will.'

‘Your pardon, I am here and party to your argument,' grinned Hew. ‘Your husband is correct, I am resolved to go, though not through any urge to risk my life.'

‘You see, Meg, it is hopeless!' answered Giles.

‘I promise you, I do not look for danger,' Hew replied more seriously. ‘Yet when I see the two of you, with Matthew so content, then I am the more convinced of it, that I should take the letters back to Beatrix and her child.'

‘That is a kind commission, and a cruel one, too,' said Meg.

‘So I understood it when I undertook the charge.'

‘What are less clear to me,' Giles considered thoughtfully, ‘are the deeper motives of Sir Andrew Wood.'

‘I have the sense,' said Hew, ‘It is some kind of test.'

‘A test of what?' asked Meg.

‘I do not know. The coroner has intimated I am being watched.'

‘How, watched? By whom?' asked Giles.

‘He declines to say. And yet, tis plain enough to put me on my guard.'

‘Then you must take great care.'

‘I see and apprehend it,' Hew agreed.

‘But you know that he does not,' Meg observed, despairing, as her brother left. ‘For though he apprehends the danger, he will blunder into it.'

Giles broke off a piece of bannock and began to butter it. ‘For sure, he is your brother, Meg. He knows no other way.'

The journey to the ferry port passed with little incident, and still less conversation, as the coroner's man Michael refused stubbornly to talk. His patter was restricted to ‘Ah dinna ken,' with a rare and grudging ‘Mebbe' where the question had been forced. Hew was glad enough to see an end in sight, as they crossed the river Tay to Broughty Ferry. From there they rode the few miles to Dundee, to settle for the night at the tavern on the shore, where the
Yellow Caravel
was moored beyond the dock. Hew was shaken from his sleep at the first faint trace of dawn, and delivered to the shipman, captain Beck, while Michael took the horses and his leave. Hew felt no regret to see him go.

The master of the
Caravel
was genial and garrulous, and promised Hew a tranquil passage on his ship. The journey, he advised, would last a mere five days, and Hew would have the comfort of the captain's cabin.

‘I cannot take your quarter,' Hew objected.

‘Nay, sir, so you shall,' the shipman puffed out generously. ‘The
Caravel
is light, and no so well equipped for gracing special guests. The great, or captain's, cabin is the only one we have. The merchants here make do wi' pallets under deck.'

‘Then so shall I,' said Hew.

The shipman would not hear of it. ‘Nay, sir, not at all. You shall have it, sir, and gladly, by order of the coroner of Fife.'

He furnished Hew with bedding, cups and plate, which were tied up in a roll and strapped up to his saddle bags, ready to be shipped out to the
Yellow Caravel.

Having nothing else to do, Hew wandered to the shore, and stood to watch the loading of the ship, the to and fro of little boats with baskets, creels and crates. Among the milling crowds, he heard the rustle of a woman's shot silk dress. It took him for a moment to another time and place; another ship set sailing from the port of Leith, where the light had faltered in a pink-streaked sky. He saw her grey eyes mocking, in the turning of the crowd, the shiver of a ghost in the dark flame of her hair and in the flawless whiteness of her skin. For a heartbeat, as he stood, he whispered to the wind. The woman stirred and smiled, holding fast his gaze. Hew coloured. ‘Ah, forgive me. I mistook you for a friend.'