‘And the old men’s lodgings?’ Gil asked.
Lowrie made a face. ‘We’d already looked in Michael’s lodging — the Douglas house, the one at the far end on the right — and we’d got into all of them except the mad one’s, which is when they cam tottering out wi their sticks displayed. So we never risked that one, maister, being wholly taken up wi defending ourselves,’ he admitted. ‘The dog wasny interested in any of their doors, except Michael’s, and all he found in Michael’s place was la — the lassie’s stocking. So we’ve no been much help.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Gil. ‘That’s very useful. I wonder where the cloak is?’
‘Why does it matter?’ asked Michael.
‘He went out in it,’ said Lowrie, ‘and now he’s no wearing it.’
‘He might have left it somewhere.’
‘Miggle, you’ve seen him often enough.’ In the thin light from the two doors Lowrie’s lanky frame was briefly transformed to mimic a smaller, stouter, more self-important man. ‘He’d never have left his bedehouse cloak, wi all that braid and the badge and all. Never mind it was a cold evening.’
‘So now we ken it’s no in the bedehouse,’ said Gil, ‘or at least if I can check Millar’s lodging we’ll ken. And thank you for searching.’
‘There’s another thing,’ said Lowrie. ‘I know about things setting after they’re deid, maister, but how sure is the timing? It’s a man we’re talking about, after all, no a side of mutton.’
‘Well, it can take longer,’ said Gil, ‘it can be slower, but it’s no often quicker. Why?’
‘Well, I wondered if the Deacon might ha been alive this morning.’
‘This morning?’ repeated Gil, startled. ‘No, he’d never have set that quickly. Why?’
‘Well, that’s it,’ said Lowrie. ‘I thought I saw him in the chapel, when we came to say Mass, though he wasny in his usual place. So how could he have been dead last night, if he was at Mass this morning?’
‘A good question,’ agreed Gil. ‘How certain are you that you saw him? Could it have been someone else?’
‘No very,’ admitted Lowrie. ‘But I’d swear I saw an extra person within the quire, just the dark figure wi the badge on the breast like the others, and who else was it like to have been?’
Gil looked from one young man to the other. ‘Did you see this, Michael?’
Michael shook his head. ‘I’d the candle. You don’t see much past that.’
‘Come and show me where you saw him, Lowrie.’
They went out and across the outer courtyard to the chapel door, which was now closed. Within, the candles still burned on the altar of St Serf, on either side of a clumsy wooden crucifix.
Even with these, even with daylight seeping reluctantly through the narrow windows, the little box-shaped building was full of shadows. As a place intended for clerks to worship in, it had no separate nave, but the stall seats faced inward, six on either hand, and their high backs and partial sides of Norway pine formed a sort of internal quire, with a painted screen and curtained doorway at its westward end to shut out the worst of the draughts. Socrates set off, claws clicking on the worn tiles, to explore the dim space between the pine uprights and the plastered outer walls where there was room for any lay folk who wished to hear the Office or the Mass.
‘There’s no vestry,’ said Lowrie, ‘so we robe in one corner or another. That corner, the day,’ he waved a hand. ‘We light the candle and the censer and go in, and Maister Kennedy begins the Mass.’
‘And the bedesmen are there waiting for you?’
‘I think they’ve said Prime by the time we get here.’ Lowrie held the curtain aside, and he and Michael followed Gil into the quire. ‘Maister Millar leads them in procession from the hall, so he was sitting up in his own place, I mind that. I’d the censer the day, no the candle, but it’s still no that easy to see out into the dark, you understand, and the black cloaks don’t show well, and the lugs of the stall sides hide all the faces. It can be quite strange,’ he admitted, ‘up here in the dark, wi all the voices round you and nobody to see. Just the same, their badges catch the light, and I thought I could see four each side, as if the Deacon was there and all. No in his own place opposite Maister Millar,’ he gestured at the two more elaborate stalls nearest the altar, ‘but down the west end next to Father Anselm. Maybe Mistress Mudie saw him,’ he added, ‘she was near the outer door when we came in, though she aye slips out after the Elevation to see to their porridge.’
Gil stopped at the altar step and turned, looking into the shadows.
‘Go and sit where you thought you saw him,’ he suggested. Lowrie obliged, spreading one hand across his chest to simulate the badge, and Gil nodded agreement. ‘Aye, I see what you mean. Your face is hid by the side where it curves out, but I can see your hand fine. Michael, what can you see?’
‘The now?’ said Michael nervously. ‘I can see his hand, aye, if he’d a bedehouse cloak on you’d see the badge fine. And I’ll swear the Deacon wasny in his own seat the morn,’ he added.
‘So was he here, then?’ Lowrie asked. Socrates reared up, one paw on the book-rest, peering into his face, and he reached out and patted the dog.
‘Aye, but he can’t have been.’ Gil paced down between the stalls, frowning. ‘There’s no doubt the man we lifted from the garden was dead by Compline last night.’
‘Maister Forsyth’s lecture,’ said Michael.
‘Aye, but before you go, Michael, I want a word wi you.’
The two students exchanged glances.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ said Lowrie.
As the door closed behind him Michael seemed to brace himself as for execution. Gil eyed him with some sympathy, and said reassuringly, ‘It’s none of my duty to oversee your behaviour, Michael. I’m no asking who she is.’
‘You’re no?’
‘No. Just watch you don’t get entangled in something your father won’t support.’ Michael stared at him open-mouthed, and he went on, ‘I want to know about your movements, yesternight and the morn — what time were you stirring about the bedehouse, and where. Even if you saw nothing, it helps.’
‘Oh.’ Michael swallowed. ‘I never thought of that. We must have — Oh,’ he said again, and put a hand on the nearest desk to steady himself.
‘Did your lass come in by this gate?’
Michael swallowed again, and shook his head.
‘Past Sissie Mudie?’ he said. ‘Not likely! I’ve got the keys,’ he disclosed. ‘I’d got permission to lie out of the college for the night, seeing as I was to ready the lodging for the old man — for my father. He’s due in Glasgow the morn for your marriage, maister.’ Gil nodded. ‘So I opened the back gate for her. That would be about …’ He paused, reckoning. ‘After Sissie was done trotting about getting two of the old brothers to their beds. One of them has the house opposite ours, and the other one’s next the hall. It would be near an hour after they finished their dinner, I suppose, afore even she started. And then the mad one began a great scene, and it took her long enough to settle him. It felt like past midnight afore all was quiet, though I suppose it wasny.’
‘And you opened the back yett and let the lassie in,’ said Gil, ‘and then what?’
‘Well, she was a bit — with the waiting, you understand,’ Michael confessed hesitantly. ‘Sissie took so much longer than I’d expected, and it was gey dark out on the Stablegreen, even with a lantern, and my — she was a wee thing upset, she said she kept hearing things. So I locked the gate quick and we got within doors, and then …’ He paused, with the glimmerings of an embarrassed smile.
‘That’s all I need to know,’ said Gil, suppressing his envy again. ‘So you locked the yett. You’re quite certain?’
‘Oh, aye. She wasny well pleased,’ said Michael cautiously, ‘that I took the time.’
‘And you saw nothing untoward? Nobody moving about or hiding behind trees?’
‘I wasny looking,’ said Michael.
‘A light in the Deacon’s lodging?’
‘I wasny — ’ Michael stopped, and considered. ‘No. I’d ha noticed that. I saw no light up there.’ He swallowed again. ‘Maister, we’ll be late for Tommy Forsyth’s lecture. Could I go, d’ye think?’