‘Mother could do better for him than that,’ said Dorothea dispassionately.
‘And Tib — ’ Gil began.
‘I’ve said my last word on it,’ said Sir James. He got to his feet. ‘Michael, let go your wee trollop and say fareweel. And if I find you’ve set your een on her again I’ll burn them out.’
Jug and platter fell unheeded. The jug shattered, the pewter dish spun briefly then grounded on one of its cakes. Michael, his arms wrapped tightly round Tib, said over her head, ‘Sir, I’ve committed no crime — ’
‘You have, in fact,’ said Gil, ‘against me.’ Everyone turned towards him. If only his head would stop aching, he thought. ‘There’s the question of filial disobedience,’ he acknowledged to his godfather, ‘but Tib’s been robbed of her maidenhead, that was a part of her marriage portion, and as her lawful tutor I will require some recompense to her.’
‘You will?’ shrieked Tib, wrenching herself from her lover’s arms. ‘It’s nothing to do wi you! It’s my life, it’s my — ’
‘Tib!’ said Dorothea warningly
‘Recompense!’ repeated Sir James in incredulity. ‘It’s well seen you’re a man of law!’
‘I am,’ Gil agreed. ‘So what will you do about it, sir? I’ll agree Tib should ha been better schooled, but the same could be said of Michael, who’s taken a girl of good family to his bed without consulting his seniors or hers. There’s blame on both sides, but only the one’s been wronged, and it’s no Michael.’
‘He didny — ’ Tib began.
Dorothea rose and went to her. Maggie stepped forward to join their colloquy, and Gil said politely to his godfather, ‘So I’ll ask you again, sir. What recompense will you make her?’
There was a pause, in which the women whispered together, urgent and sibilant. Sir James said sourly, ‘What are ye after? Coin, is it? You want paid for her pearl?’
‘At its crudest,’ said Gil, ‘yes. I’d sooner see it as a way to dower her, since Michael’s robbed her of what was near her only asset. And should misfortune follow — ’
‘Oh, aye. If it should, how would we ken it for Michael’s?’
‘By the heart birthmark,’ suggested Gil before he could stop himself. Dorothea looked round with a brief, quelling glare.
‘She was a maiden when she came to my bed,’ said Michael, renewing his grip of Tib’s hand and lifting his pointed chin at his father. ‘I’ll not hear that said of her, sir.’
‘You can be silent, you wanton,’ snarled his father. ‘Aye, well, godson, if that’s the attitude you’re taking, we’ll discuss this when it’s more convenient. And if I can agree wi you, we’ll hear no more of this, will we?’
‘Oh, I haveny offered that, sir,’ said Gil.
‘I’ll not be bought off like a side of mutton!’ said Tib furiously past the creamy wool of Dorothea’s shoulder.
‘What’s more,’ Gil added, ‘if Michael’s to attend you to my marriage, he’ll have to encounter Tib. He canny fail to set eyes on her.’
‘Then he’ll no attend me,’ said Sir James roundly. ‘I’ll have him gated in the college till next harvest, anyway.’
‘If they will each promise,’ said Dorothea, ‘swear before my uncle’s altar yonder, no to be alone with the other in the next month, would that satisfy you the now, sir? And meantime we may discuss it at more leisure, as you say.’
There was a pause. Maggie nodded. Tib bit her lip and looked uneasily at her lover, who gave her a reassuring smile.
‘Aye, it will have to do,’ said Douglas at length. ‘And St Bride send we’ve sorted it out by Yule.’
It was quiet in the Deacon’s lodging in the bedehouse.
Once Sir James had departed, still breathing fire and dragging his son by the arm, Maggie had begun a flood of recriminations about Tib’s behaviour which Gil could not staunch. She had eventually been persuaded down to the kitchen by the extraordinarily useful Lowrie, while Dorothea dealt with the furious weeping her words had provoked in Tib. It seemed likely that the noon bite would be late, or inedible, or both, and Gil had taken himself out of the house in the hope of finding distraction, the dog at his heels.
He should, he acknowledged, have gone down the hill to tell Alys this latest bitter crumb of family news, or to inform Kate, who would be tormented by guilt when she heard it, but instead he had found himself heading round to St Serf’s with the thought of a soothing time with the accounts. Sir James did not appear to be there, for which he was thankful, but before he could reach the upper chamber he had encountered Millar in the courtyard, in helpless discussion with Thomas Agnew.
‘Maister Cunningham!’ the man had said, in some relief. ‘It was y — it was you found poor Humphrey. Will you tell Maister Agnew — ’
‘What happened?’ asked Agnew hoarsely. ‘He was well enough when I left yestreen, just afore I met you in the way, Maister Cunningham. He seemed calm and resigned, just kneeling to his prayers. He’d asked my forgiveness for attacking me yesterday morn,’ he added, and turned his face away, wiping something from his eye. Millar made a sympathetic sound.
‘I trust for your sake he had it, maister,’ said Gil, and Agnew sighed and nodded and crossed himself. ‘I know little more than Maister Millar here. Sissie went to his lodging, and found him hanging in the dark. I ran to help, but she had dropped the lantern, so I could see nothing. When we got him down we found he’d used the rope from the gate here — ’
‘From the gate?’ repeated Agnew. ‘How did he get that?’
‘I ca — canny tell,’ said Millar, wringing his hands again. ‘He never got out here to the yard, Si — Sissie kept that good an eye on him.’
‘He got hold of it somehow,’ said Gil, ‘and he’d used that to hang himself from one of the beams of his lodging. I would say, if he was at his prayers when you left, he was hanging for no more than a quarter-hour, but it was long enough.’
‘Oh, my poor brother,’ said Agnew, crossing himself again. Gil and Millar did likewise.
‘So you’re saying he was calm and seemed as usual,’ prompted Gil. Agnew gave him a sharp look.
‘He wasny usually calm,’ he observed. ‘I’m saying I’d had a reasonable conversation wi him, the first in a good while, and he seemed quiet enough, resigned in his mood, just about to kneel.’
‘Had he a light?’
‘Why, no. We’d been sitting in the light of my lantern. I offered to set his candle for him, but he’d have none of it. I suppose he’d no need of it for what he intended. No wonder he seemed resigned,’ he added, with a painful smile, and added in Latin, ‘I am in great terror, in terror such as has not been. My poor brother.’
‘Resigned to what?’ Gil asked. The Psalter, he thought. Better than the Apocalypse, at all events. Agnew shook his head, and put a hand to his bruised throat.
‘His madness? The knowledge of what he could do in the wild fits? He never said.’ He turned to Millar. ‘Where is he? Can I see him?’
‘Oh — aye!’ said Millar. ‘Though I’d maybe best get Sissie away first if I can, she’ll no want to face you — ’
‘St Peter’s bones, why no?’
‘She’s took it into her head you’ve something to do wi his death,’ said Maister Veitch, approaching from the door to the main range. ‘Andro, will I draw her away for you?’
‘If you would, Frankie,’ said Millar gratefully. ‘And we’ll ne — need to talk of his burial, Maister Agnew. It’ll be a difficulty. He’ll go in our own place, never fear that, but I canny tell when. He’s still not stiffened, but Sissie willny let us wash him yet, for all that.’
‘Aye,’ agreed Agnew. ‘I can see it’ll be an inconvenience.’
Gil watched them go off along the passage through the main building, and in a moment Maister Veitch returned, supporting Mistress Mudie. She clung to his arm, her head bowed, her linen headdress unpinned and its folds pulled across her face, and the two figures reminded Gil of the supporters at the foot of a Crucifixion. They vanished into the kitchen; he waited, obedient to the significant look his teacher had given him, and after a while the old man emerged into the passage again and jerked his head.