Cunningham 04 - St Mungo's Robin by Pat McIntosh

Author:Pat McIntosh [McIntosh, Pat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Historical
ISBN: 9781849018630
Google: E-y6XwAACAAJ
Amazon: B005DKRG18
Goodreads: 953262
Publisher: Robinson
Published: 2011-01-08T23:00:00+00:00

‘The poor man,’ said Alys as they stepped into the yard.

‘Much sorwe I walke with For beste of boon and blood,’ Gil quoted. ‘It seems he is mad for grief and guilt.’

She nodded, then looked around, and drew Gil to the chapel. The little building was full of shadows leaping from the two candles on the altar; nothing else moved, although it felt almost as if someone had left as they entered. Through the roof? Gil wondered, amused at himself. There’s only the one door.

‘The two women sleep out,’ Alys was saying quietly, ‘as I suspected when you said they were talking about witchcraft. No wonder the laddie was frightened. And he sleeps under the table or on the hearth, and saw and heard nothing moving, not even the Devil.’

‘Alys, that’s marvellous,’ he said, drawing her into his arms.

‘I do wonder,’ she went on, ‘now I have seen the boy, whether he would think to mention it if Mistress Mudie had left her chamber later. He must be used to her going in and out at all hours if she’s needed.’

‘Difficult to find out.’ Gil tightened his clasp. ‘What did you learn from the painter’s man?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She paused, ordering her thoughts. ‘He spoke to his cousin last night, indeed she must have told the half of Glasgow about it all. The only new thing I learned is that Naismith may have known the little girl was not his. You said the dates didn’t add up, didn’t you?’

‘Mm,’ he said, and kissed the top of her ear.

‘I wondered if her brother thought it was Naismith’s.’

‘What would that do?’ he said.

‘I don’t know. It gives him the more reason to dislike the man, if Naismith was repudiating his mistress and his child as well.’

‘Did Daidie know who is the child’s father?’

‘He said not.’

‘If this was a verse romance, it would turn out to be the mysterious watcher.’

‘Oh, Daidie mentioned him too. By today he’d become a giant with a black beard and a bloody sword.’ She looked up at him, her quick smile flickering. ‘The Watch won’t venture along the Drygate this night, I imagine.’

‘I wonder what Bel really saw? I’m not inclined to believe in her watcher, giant or not.’

She nodded, and laid her head briefly on his shoulder, then drew away slightly. Reluctantly, he let her go, and she bent the knee to the altar and crossed herself.

‘What is my father doing with the accounts?’ she speculated. Heart heavy, he followed her out across the yard and up the sounding stair.

Maistre Pierre had all the bundles of paper arranged on the polished surface of the table, and was peering at one sheet held at a distance, his tablets in his other hand.

‘The man wrote appalling small,’ he complained as they entered. ‘This is that very profitable estate, you recall, Gil, out by Kilsyth. The total is considerable.’

‘May I see?’ Alys took the paper he held, and ran a finger down the returns. ‘Where was it all going? This alone would keep the bedehouse in comfort, I should have thought.

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