Hue and Cry

by Shirley McKay

  Lucy sighed. ‘But might I not go once or twice to kirk, and Meg and Hew come with me, and put the seat nicely, and blankets and all?’

  ‘Well then . . . we shall see.’

  Hew sensed him weaken, then revive. ‘As for the Strachans, I fear you must no longer count them as your friends.’

  Lucy said appealingly, ‘But Agnes, Robin, and Tibbie, am I not to see them?’

  He took both of her hands in his and said gravely, ‘come, Linnet, no. The lass is pert and loose. I would not have you there, nor yet our child, among such viciousness. For you are both of you too good,’ he brushed her cheek, ‘to suffer such corruption.’

  ‘Then we shall not be corrupted,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Please me, Linnet; do not go,’ he countered in a sharper tone. And you, sir,’ directed at Hew, ‘would do well indeed to warn your sister from that place.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Master Cullan, please excuse me, but I was on my way out to the harbour when you came. I must oversee the loading of my ship. If the weather holds fair, we shall set sail at dawn. Walk with me, will you? We will talk a little more.’

  ‘No, Robin,’ Lucy cried pettishly, ‘our cousin has not finished his wine.’

  Her husband scowled. ‘I cannot stay longer, my love.’

  ‘Then Hew shall keep me company until the girl returns.’

  Hew glanced in mild entreaty from the husband to the wife. He had risen to his feet, the better to accommodate whichever won the clash of wills. It was of course Lucy, without another strand to her defence. Robin merely shrugged, ‘Then drink your wine. I shall see you, sir, at the harbour when you leave. Within the quarter hour,’ he added pointedly.

  ‘Well then,’ Lucy patted the stool beside her, ‘now he’s gone, I long to hear your news. All about that villain and his crimes. Why did he do it?’ She settled back complacently among the painted trees.

  ‘I’ve heard very little gossip, as I said,’ Hew said apologetically.

  ‘But you hear some?’

  He conceded, ‘I did speak with the regent, Robert Black, who shared the villain’s room and his confidence . . .’

  ‘Aye?’ she pressed, ‘his confidence?’

  ‘He told me . . . though he would not have it spread . . .’

  He made a brave show of reluctance, until Lucy begged him, ‘Say! Whoever should I tell it to?’

  ‘Aye, who indeed?’ Hew wondered. He relented. ‘Well, he did say that the villain thought we should be teaching Ramus’ logic now, in place of Aristotle’s. Which, according to our principal, must prove the man a scoundrel, or at least of dubious worth.’

  She flushed. ‘I think you tease me, sir.’

  ‘A little,’ he confessed. ‘Forgive me, but I fear your questions might offend your husband.’

  ‘I care little,’ she said sulkily, ‘as long as they please me. Know that my husband, come tomorrow, will be far across the seas. Ah well then, if you won’t tell, I must forgive the cruelty. I think, sir, you are less severe than you pretend. But peace, we’ll talk about your sister. Will she like it here?’

  ‘Well,’ considered Hew, ‘for all the house is fine—’

  ‘You will not find a finer.’

  ‘—Meg’s love is her garden. She prefers to be outdoors. And living out of town, she has been free to wander where she will. I think to be confined may prove a problem. She has a need, at times, to be solitary. It may not fit well with your own expectations.’

  Lucy looked thoughtful. ‘Meg has the falling sickness?’ she asked seriously.

  ‘Aye. You’re not afraid of it?’

  ‘It does not show to look upon her. Does she slaver and spew?’

  He felt his face grow hot. ‘She takes physic, and controls the fits. I hope it won’t alarm you.’

  ‘She’s not violent?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Then it won’t alarm me. But if she likes to be solitary, and I like to have company, then we shan’t be friends. And our garden you know is a dry little drab of a thing that scarcely sees the sun. Meg will be unhappy here.’

  ‘I fear it,’ Hew said simply.

  ‘And yet . . . I see a way,’ she mused. ‘Meg could take her walks upon the shore. It’s quiet when the boats are out, and she might have her solitude.’

  ‘Then you would be alone,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Tis true. I do not like to be alone.’ Her sighs seemed almost artless. ‘Oh! Unless of course . . . unless I called upon my friends.’

  Silently, Hew gave applause to Lucy’s cunning. The flight from the birdcage was prettily done.

  ‘I notice that you do not share your husband’s scruples,’ he observed.

  Lucy sighed impatiently, ‘I allow them pertinent, yet cannot feel them sharp. Do you?’

  ‘In conscience, I confess,’ he said in seriousness, ‘that they do prick. Perhaps you might tell me a little more about these friends of yours, the weavers and the dyers, just to help to put my mind at ease?’

  She gave a full radiant smile and, with alacrity, deprived of gossips as she had been for the space of several days, helped him to another glass of wine.

  ‘It is so unreasonable of Robin,’ she complained, ‘who fostered the friendship, to forbid it when it blossoms, and when Agnes has the need of all her friends. For in truth, Gilbert Strachan has soured to his brother, and Archie as a consequence is bear-headed and cruel to her. Why at the lykewake, I would swear it, I saw bruises to her arms, as if he had used her roughly, though she hid them with her sleeve. As to the dyers,’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘I know nothing of them, save that the dead one made himself most noisome in the kirk. Oh Hew, you must persuade my husband to allow me to the kirk! I hear no news without it. Tell him you will take us!’

  ‘Meg may wish to go,’ he said judiciously. ‘Then Agnes was your friend?’

  ‘Aye, and her daughter Tibbie. Robin introduced us, when first he brought me here upon our marriage, that Agnes might be as a mother to me, who have none. And in truth, she was kindness itself. Tibbie too, a bright and lively lass, is full of the lore of the town. The Strachans of course have converse with the dyers; they can hardly help it, for they must do business there. Archie was ay thick with them. Tis true enough, he is not gentle like his brother.’

  ‘Because he works with his hands, and has dealings with dyers?’

  ‘Aye,’ she answered, guileless as a child. Hew smiled to himself. ‘When did the brothers fall out?’

  ‘After Alexander died. Gilbert felt his brother was to blame. A mite unfair, I grant, for Gilbert chose the tutor, yet because it happened in his brother’s house, he held him responsible. Archie did not care much for the boy.’

  ‘In what sense?’ Hew asked her, interested. ‘Did not care for him, or failed to give him care?’

  ‘Robin says, both. He said we might have better lodged him here. Which I cannot count it sense, for it would not have been convenient to have had him here, and besides, the boy would still have had the tutor, and the tutor still have killed him, don’t you think? How horrible!’ Her eyes had opened wide, ‘to have found him dead here in our bed! I wonder Robin could have wished it!’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Hew interrupted hastily, ‘that he did not. He must be close to Gilbert to have thought of it.’

  ‘He’s close to Gilbert, aye. Which is why he takes his part against his brother.’ Lucy heaved a sigh. ‘It was the selling of the cloth they took amiss. The boy was found inside a bolt of wool, and Archie traded off the colour. It was quite the vogue,’ she added wistfully. ‘Though I suppose, it was not kind.’

  ‘It was not kind,’ Hew said severely.

  ‘No. But the colour was rare. Archie keeps sheep and deals in their wools, which Gilbert takes, both fleece and cloth, to market overseas. And in return, he brings him back finer cloths, ribbons and lace, that can be bought from Strachan’s booth here in the marketplace.’

  ‘Then he cannot have a licence for their sale,’ observed Hew.

  ‘I know n
ought of that.’ She sounded bored. ‘He does not sell to strangers. But for those who want them, there are pretty trinkets to be had. If Meg would like a lace or pair of ribbons while she’s here, I’ll introduce her.’

  ‘So you might. I am sure that would please her. In truth, she ought to have a gown, for at home she has nothing but country things.’

  Lucy nodded slyly. ‘I’ll take her there myself. Because for Meg to make a purchase in the shop is not to offer friendship, in my husband’s sense. We need not go into the house.’

  ‘Indeed, you need not,’ he agreed.

  ‘And if I were to feel a little faint, on account of my condition, and required a cup of something and to sit upon the bed, that too could scarcely count as converse.’

  ‘Scarcely at all.’

  ‘Well then, we may go. For myself, I have not seen the Strachans since the lykewake. They won’t presume on our affections if we do our shopping there.’

  Hew rose to his feet. ‘Well, if it will please you, Meg shall come tomorrow, and to kirk on Sunday. And at the risk of dismaying your husband, my sister must have some new clothes.’

  ‘So she shall,’ winked Lucy. ‘What my husband does not know may not disquiet him. And I knew you were not cruel, as you pretend. But hurry, he will wonder what has kept you. Whatever he advises, thank him sagely. Present to him your scholar’s face, most proper and severe.’

  Hew bowed and left her preening, fluffing out her skirts. He thought her petted, squat and spoiled inside her painted house. For a moment, irresistibly, he pictured her squab linnet plumes in the maw of the gingerbread cat.

  The Angel

  ‘I confess,’ said Robin Flett, ‘I took you for a stranger when you came into my house so pale and wild of countenance. I fear your education has impaired your wits, taking you so far from the world, or else the cruel affliction we have spoken of affects you too. From a child, you are much changed.’

  They were walking in the harbour by the sea gate. On their left, the high walls of the priory rose to the cathedral; on the right, the fishing boats lay bleaching in the silt, the fishermen mending their nets. Hew bowed ironically.

  ‘You are blunt, sir. It is true my sister’s condition has affected me, though not in the sense you imply. I have been away from home these past ten years. In truth, I left a child. Last night my father told me of my sister’s illness. It was news to me. In consequence, I have not slept, being much disturbed in my mind as to what should now become of her. If I alarmed you or your wife then I am sorry for it.’

  ‘Tis no matter,’ Flett said graciously. ‘Let the news itself excuse the manner of its coming. I have read your father’s letter. You may tell him I accept his terms. But you were talking to my wife. What did she say to you?’

  ‘She asked about my sister, and whether she might go with her to kirk.’

  ‘Ah, did she? We shall speak on that. I do not wish my wife to have acquaintance with her former friends, the Strachans. I expect you to assure it. Do you understand?’

  ‘I understand you, sir. But, may I ask you why?’

  Robin sighed impatiently. They had come upon a group of sailors, making fast their craft. He paused to let them pass.

  ‘Walk with me to the pier.’

  He led the way beyond the inner harbour, high upon the rocks hewn from the old cathedral, looking out to sea.

  ‘Do you see that ship? It is the Angel.’

  Hew gazed across the water. The boat was moored out of the shallows, quietly sketched upon the horizon. The small boats had ceased their traffic back and forth, and were beached upon the sands. The sea was still.

  ‘She’s a beauty,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Aye, is she not? She’s small and light enough to take the slightest rivers, yet she carries eighty tonnes. Ye would not think it, though, to look at her.’

  ‘What does she carry?’

  ‘Fleeces, hides and wools from the Michaelmas markets. Our first port is Campvere, our staple in the Low Countries. With a following wind, it should take us four or five days. From Campvere, if the winds hold, I hope to make the journey down the Rhine to purchase apples, onions, spices, wines – fodder for the winter months, when luxuries are scarce. My main lines are hardware, timbers and iron; I rarely deal in trinkets. Then back here by St Andrew’s Day in time for the birth of my child. You see how I am pressed, and how relieved I am to have your sister come to help us at this time. But – in answer to your question – a third share in the ship belongs to Gilbert Strachan. He is my partner and friend.’

  ‘Does he sail with you tomorrow?’

  Robin shook his head. ‘He is, you understand, a most prodigious man. His elder sons are based in Campvere, and will take care of his particular cargo when we land. For the moment, it is under the watch of the shipmaster, who owns the final share. It’s evident that Gilbert speculates in something, and has cut the man a part of it. He paid him richly to take care of it, and he guards it well. There was a time when I myself should have been privy to this fortune. I regret that the death of his son has left him mistrustful and uncertain of his friends. In particular, he has turned against his brother.’

  ‘And you in turn reflect this turning?’ Hew said shrewdly.

  ‘Aye, I do. I want Gilbert to know that I am his friend.’

  ‘And partner in his fortunes. What’s his usual trade?’

  ‘Before the boy’s death, he exported wool. His imports are luxury goods, laces and silks, suckets and soaps, colours and candies, perfumes and wines. Archie’s cloths are of poor quality, and Gilbert makes little from their sale. He has been generous to his brother; trading with him for silks of far higher value. Now relations have turned sour. For what went on in that house, Gilbert cannot forgive him. That he turned it to his profit was more shameful still.’

  ‘More shameful than what?’

  Robin dropped his voice, as though the foreign sailors might interpret as he spoke. ‘The weaver has been privy to most loose and scandalous conducts. I know my wife well, Master Cullan, and I know she will beguile you with her tricks and wiles to suffer her acquaintance with her friends. On no account permit this. I cannot tell to Lucy the true nature of the evil in that house, but I must counsel you, the place is vile.’

  ‘It may be counted as evil enough that Gilbert Strachan’s son was murdered there,’ Hew reasoned. ‘That she knows already. Is there worse?’

  ‘Aye, there is worse.’ Robin scowled. ‘As if it were not bad enough that Archie Strachan’s prentice kept a whore, aye, beneath his nose, he left his nephew prey to most unnatural friendships. That friend of yours, the tutor, sodomised the boy. I see by your face, sir, you did not know that.’

  ‘I did not,’ Hew lied gravely, ‘but how do you know it?’ ‘Because Gilbert Strachan told me so, here by the shore and in his own words, come fresh from the justiciary to swear the change against him.’

  ‘It is a serious charge. Can there be proof of it?’

  ‘Aye, there are proofs. Agnes Ford, the weaver’s wife, has sworn it to the Crown. She witnessed him removing letters, which afterwards were brought before the justice clerk and proved the tutor’s guilt. She was with him also when he found the body, for it was he who led them there. And she bears witness also, that the dyer had suspected them. He warned the tutor, who killed him for his pains.’

  ‘How did the dyer know?’ Hew asked uneasily.

  ‘He was the sort of man who sniffed out secrets. Though how Agnes came to hear, I cannot say. But since all this was under Strachan’s roof, I do not wish my wife to grace his house.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Hew. ‘Then it was Agnes who swore the disposition?’

  ‘Aye. She is a good woman, and the soundness of her testimony, as Gilbert said to me, must be his only comfort. What’s your interest, Hew?’

  Hew shrugged. ‘It is the law that holds my interest, little else.’

  Flett nodded. ‘You are your father’s son. You say you know the man. You cannot hope to make defenc
e of him?’

  ‘On this account,’ his cousin answered quietly, ‘it would appear that I cannot. Now, sir, you will excuse me; I must exercise my horse.’

  When Hew arrived with Dun Scottis at the east sands Giles was already waiting, pacing back and forth the sunlit bay. He wore his doctor’s gown and cap, spilling out his full black beard, and underneath, incongruous, a pair of riding boots, great billowing waders that rose to his thigh, above which his breeches were pillowed and taut. Under his arm swung a stout stick, less riding crop than cudgel, and in his hands he held a clutch of books beneath a pair of spectacles. To Hew’s alarm, he was also wearing spurs. ‘Ah, there you are,’ he beamed. ‘You brought the horse. Now, ordinarily, of course, it were better to begin his lessons in the early morning, before he has his provender . . .’

  ‘There is no “before” his provender,’ interrupted Hew. ‘He has it all the time.’

  Giles cleared his throat. ‘Quite so. And for that reason, you know, we have brought him to the shore, away from temptation of pasture. So, to begin . . .’

  ‘May I observe,’ Hew said pleasantly, ‘that if you mean to use that cudgel on my horse, then I shall have to wrap it round your neck. Which would prejudice our friendship, don’t you think?’

  Giles looked startled, then a little hurt. ‘It’s only for effect. You need not take that tone. No, listen, this will please you.’

  ‘Forgive me for asking, but do you know anything at all about horses?’ Hew retorted.

  Giles brandished the books. ‘It’s all here: cavalry, chivalry, surgery, husbandry . . .’

  Hew laughed ironically. ‘It was a book that got me into this.’ He remembered Duns Scotus.

  ‘Aye, and books will get you out. Why, if every man who had a horse would only buy a book . . .’ Giles seemed slightly flustered at the prospect. ‘No matter. Horses are like medicine, just the same. You see, your dun-coloured horse is of the element of earth, that makes him dull and slothful. It’s a melancholic horse. And as with humans we can let his blood in order to redress . . .’

  Hew shook his head. ‘I’ll have none of it. If I did believe his disposition rose from his complexion and that my sad-coloured horse is a sad-natured horse – and I don’t believe it – then still I vow I would not have him bled. I would cure his melancholia with tenderness and cherishing.’