‘Perhaps as much as three, when the weather is so cold,’ advised Maistre Pierre. Millar exclaimed inarticulately in the doorway.
‘- maybe three, and then borne into the garden and left there. Why?’ Gil lifted the fur-lined gown from the bench where Maistre Pierre had laid it, and began to turn it carefully, inspecting its heavy folds.
‘- what a thing to be suggesting, that’s no way to be treating a Christian corp — ’
‘He couldny stay where he was killed,’ suggested Lowrie.
‘Well, yes, but why? And why go to so much trouble? Why not simply leave him on the Stablegreen or out in the street? How was he got past the locked door here?’
‘His own keys?’ suggested Lowrie.
‘But the keys are on his belt, so how did his bearer get out again?’
‘Over the wall?’
‘Mm,’ said Gil doubtfully, and peered into the wide sleeve of the garment he held. ‘What is this lodged in the fur?’ He picked the pale scraps out of the soft hairs, and held them nearer the light. ‘Grass, is it? Straw? Hay?’
Lowrie came to look, and lifted one of the flakes from Gil’s palm.
‘Straw, isn’t it,’ he agreed. ‘Has he been kept in a hayloft or something?’
‘- and anyway I heard him myself last night, he was certainly home by the time I had Humphrey settled, the poor soul, and in his bed no long after — ’
‘What was that, madame?’ said Maistre Pierre, turning sharply.
Mistress Mudie, half his size, recoiled for a moment, recovered herself, and said again, ‘I heard him last night wi my own ears, tramping about the boards over my head. He was in his own lodgings a couple hours afore midnight, maister, my word on it.’
‘Tell us about it, mistress,’ suggested Gil. Unnecessary, he thought, we’ll hear more than we want to. ‘Did you see him at all?’
‘Oh, aye, of course I saw him,’ she said, plump cheeks puffing out with importance. ‘We had the accounts to see to in the afternoon, same as always, and then he had a word for the whole community, and then they all went to Vespers and Compline, and after it he went out of the almshouse in his good cloak and velvet hat.’
‘It was dark by then?’ said Gil, attempting to follow this headlong description.
‘Compline’s over by maybe half an hour after five o’clock,’ supplied Millar.
Gil nodded acknowledgement, but Mistress Mudie rattled on. ‘Oh, aye, full dark, but I seen him go out at the gate wi a lantern. And then,’ pursued Mistress Mudie without apparently pausing for breath, ‘I had supper for my old men to see to, and they talked a while by the fire, and then there’s one or two I have to help to their beds, and Humphrey and all, and after I seen to that I was in my own lodging next the kitchen, and heard Deacon Naismith come in and walk about on the boards over my head, and eat the collation that I leave him in the court-cupboard to break his fast wi, and drink a beaker of wine, and then ready himself for his bed. And that,’ she concluded triumphantly, ‘was just afore you came in, Maister Millar, so you see there’s no need of saying he was stabbed or anything, because it must have been someone in here if he was, and who’d do a thing like that to the Deacon I’d like to know?’
‘So would I, indeed,’ said Gil politely. ‘Tell me, mistress, do you know where the Deacon went when he left yesternight?’
‘Well, of course I do, though that’s to say, he never said, but a body could tell,’ she dimpled at Gil suddenly, ‘ye can aye tell when a man’s going to his mistress, the more so after what he tellt us all in the afternoon, will you be seeing yours when you’ve done asking questions here, maister?’ I will indeed, thought Gil uneasily. ‘He went out the gate in his good cloak and hat wi his Sunday gown under them, the same one he died in, look at him there, the soul, and his shoulders back, right pleased wi himself,’ she demonstrated, causing a major upheaval under her decent black gown, ‘he’d be going to his house by the Caichpele where the woman Veitch dwells, where he often goes for his supper — ’
‘So he was out of this place before six,’ said Maistre Pierre, ‘and returned — when?’
‘I was back here about ten,’ said Millar uneasily. ‘And he was already home.’
‘Returned before ten.’ Maistre Pierre raised his eyebrows. ‘A short evening with one’s mistress.’
‘How long does it take?’ said Gil absently, and caught his breath. ‘I mean — ’ He broke off, and felt his face burning.
‘Longer than that, I hope, the first time,’ said his betrothed’s father unanswerably.
‘- and he was later back than he’s often been,’ supplied Mistress Mudie, to Gil’s relief, ‘for it’s quite usual he’s in his lodging and walking up and down over my head before St Mungo’s Vespers is ended, maybe eight o’clock — ’
‘I saw him go out,’ said Millar. ‘I was ju — just leaving, myself — a late lecture, six o’clock — I’m studying Theology,’ he expanded, ‘and he left ahead of me.’
‘And you weren’t back until ten?’ Gil asked.
‘- oh, aye, it was late, I’d to see Anselm and Duncan to their beds on my own, and Anselm was well worked up, the soul, I canny tell what about — ’
‘We sat a while discussing the lecture, and so forth. It must ha been ten o’clock I came up the road. I saw there was a light in the Deacon’s lodgings, so I locked up and went to my own bed.’ He turned in the doorway and pointed at the main range with its top-heavy dormer windows. ‘That’s my lodging at the end, you see, I reach it from the inner yard. The Deacon’s bedchamber is just through the wall from me. I could hear him moving about and all.’
‘And you’re certain it was as late as ten?’ Gil prompted.
Millar shook his head. ‘I ken all was dark at St Mungo’s and at St Nicholas when I came through the Wyndhead.’
‘Ten o’clock,’ said Maistre Pierre disapprovingly. ‘I should have said earlier, but I suppose it is possible.’
‘And this was all just as usual?’ Gil asked.
‘- usual enough, save they were all late back, for it’s only the two nights in the week Maister Millar’s no here to help me wi Anselm, and what he was on about I’d like to ken, his friend had tellt him all was well but he couldny see it and kept asking me — ’
‘Usual enough,’ agreed Millar. ‘The Deacon was often out in the evening, and back at a variable time, and as Mistress Mudie says I’ve two late lectures in the week, and I’m often gey late home after them. You can check that wi Patey Coventry,’ he added anxiously, ‘he’s in the same class.’
‘Oh, the Bachelor of Sacred Theology course?’ Gil said in Latin. Millar nodded, looking relieved.
‘- needing me much longer, I’d like to get the Deacon made decent, for I’ve the crocks to see to after their porridge and the lassie to send to the market, and then I’ve the dinner to get started, and the Deacon’s lodging to redd up and the accounts to manage and I hope you’ll oversee the accounts for today, Maister Millar, since Deacon Naismith’s no able — ’
‘I have learned all I may from him just now,’ said Maistre Pierre. ‘What do we do now, Gilbert?’
‘I’d like to see the Deacon’s lodgings,’ said Gil, ‘you should be present, Maister Millar, but I think we could let Mistress Mudie get on now.’
‘- I tellt ye, I’ve no had a chance to get up there to redd up, I’d no like ye to think it aye looks the way it does first thing, but at least I can make sure Humphrey gets his draught — ’
‘I can let you in,’ said Millar, ‘but I need to take the old men to Terce. Maybe Cubby could lead the Office,’ he said doubtfully, ‘if Frankie’s no back. He’s got the best voice, they can all hear him. Then I could come back and help.’
‘If you could. And you two,’ Gil turned to Lowrie. ‘If you can find Michael,’ he amended, ‘the pair of you could look for the Deacon’s cloak and hat if you would. I’ll send the dog with you, and you can tell me if he pays attention to any place in particular.’
‘They mi — might be in his lodging,’ said Millar. ‘The cloak and hat.’
‘True,’ agreed Maistre Pierre, ‘but having taken the time to put his boots on, why would he then go out bareheaded?’