Fate and Fortune (6 page)

‘There was a cleric in the poem, and he was called a goose. No names were named. But you will understand, the substance of the charge, and the Crown’s complaint, was not whether Davidson called Rutherford a goose.’

Giles chuckled. ‘Let us both be thankful we abjure such petty
squabbling
. The retraction, surely, was a help to Davidson. The University must have supported him?’

‘They might have done, had the Assembly had the courage to defy the Crown. But Davidson could not be sure of their support. And so he took advice, and fled to England, and we lost a good and worthy regent, and an honest man.’

‘Then I’m sorry for it. Was he your regent?’

‘Not ours, though we knew him well. In our first year as students, he was still a magistrand. And these events took place when I was gone to Paris. It was Nicholas that told me of them, in a letter. I doubt my father knew of it, for strange to say, he has a copy of Davidson’s poem in his library. Nicholas has put it in his catalogue.’

‘Your father had a keen eye for controversy,’ Giles smiled. ‘Aye, well, a cautionary tale. Let us hope that Matthew’s law book will not get you into trouble.’

‘I think it very likely,’ Hew said solemnly, ‘that this strange affair is doomed from start to end.’

‘Well, then, Christian Hall, you say?’ Giles peered at his shelves, ‘I do not know the name.’

‘The device is a crow in a tree, with an H and a cross,’ Hew replied. ‘You have not seen such on your books?’

‘Not that I recall. The corbie’s an odd enough choice,’ remarked Giles. ‘That signifies, I think, a false or tardy messenger. Or like the carrion crow, brings with it thoughts of death.’ He sang a brief snatch from the ballad, ‘The Twa Corbies’, ‘
over his white banes, where we lay bare, the wind shall blow forever mair
. No, there’s nothing here … Now here’s a book to interest you, returning to our theme, that has been lately Englished from the Latin, directions for the health of magistrates and students. Tis pertinent on exercise. The author says of tennis, that all parts and members of the body may be moved – save that it may be harmful to the head, which must be held aloft, like so …’ Giles stuck out his neck and pitched a phantom caich ball to the roof. ‘Tell me, Hew, is this the stance?’

‘Aye, something like,’ Hew answered doubtfully.

‘Then it will prove more wholesome than the golf, and likewise beneficial. I look forward to beginning with our lessons. Meantime, for your printer, have you thought to try the fair? There are bookstalls there a plenty. Tis likely they have heard of him. In fact,’ he nodded, ‘since there is no time like the present, let us go together; you shall help to strike my bargain for the tennis things.’ He set down the book, and pleased with this plan, began to button up his coat.

‘Fair enough,’ Hew grinned. ‘Shall we take Meg?’

Giles frowned at him. ‘The fair is most busy and noisome. It could do her no good. But we shall bring her gingerbreads, or ribbons for her hair.’

‘If you treat her like a child,’ objected Hew, ‘it is not like to please her.’

‘As her man of physic, I could not assuage my conscience, if I had encouraged her to walk among the thrang. It would precipitate a fit, you may be sure of it. Aye, you’re right, no gingerbers. The fair is a source of concern, I confess,’ Giles reflected seriously. ‘So much of this prevailing sickness comes from overseas. A thousand foreign sailors and their whores compound our present fears.’

‘You see demons everywhere!’ Hew protested, as they stepped into the clamour of the street. Stalls had spilled out from the cloisters of the priory to line the three main thoroughfares; in the marketplace, they jostled with the usual buiths where hawkers cried their wares. The odours hung heady and cloying. They fought their way through to the cathedral, where foreign merchants had set out their wares, silverware and silks more precious than the petty toys and trinkets in the street. The town pipes and drum that had called in the fair were sitting idle on the grass, and the piper himself in yellow and red leant against the far wall eyeing up the lassies, biding the time he was called for a tune. A troupe of tumblers staged their act upon the centre of the green, and Giles relaxed a little as he paused to watch. Playfully, Hew tugged his sleeve.

‘Don’t think on it! For you have
not
the build!’

‘Think you not? Tis pity,’ Giles allowed a smile. ‘Ah, well, never mind!’

Beneath the cloistered penthouse, sheltered from the wind, they found stalls selling sheets of French paper, folded into quires, as well as books and pamphlets and an assortment of penners, inkhorns and inks. ‘A table-book, gentlemen?’ the stationer called out.

‘Perhaps,’ Hew murmured absently. He declined the proffered
notebook
, and picked up a small volume, bound in brown calf. ‘Buchanan’s
Baptistes
,’ he said aside to Giles. ‘Nicholas will like this. Have you
De
iure regni
?’ he inquired of the bookseller.

‘Have a care,’ cautioned Giles, ‘the book is frowned upon.’

‘Not yet proscribed, I think,’ Hew whispered. ‘Dearly, I should like a copy for my library.’

The bookseller made a show of examining his stock. ‘I doubt I sold that one this morning. Here are Buchanan’s
Psalms
, that always proves most popular.’

Hew shook his head. ‘It was the laws of kingship I required.’

‘Aye. Well then,’ the man conceded defeat, ‘I doubt it can be had from Henry Charteris, his buith upon the north side of the high street, just above the tron. All these books are his.’

‘Are you from Edinburgh, then?’

‘I am, sir. Here’s a Latin grammar,
Roodiementya
…’

‘No grammars please,’ Hew told him firmly. ‘Tell me, do you know a printer by the name of Christian Hall?’

‘Hall?’ The man looked dubious. ‘Ye perhaps mean Arbuthnot?’ he suggested.

‘Tis
Hall
, and his mark is like this, an H with the sign of the cross, inside a black-feathered bird.’ Hew sketched the mark with his
fingertips
on the cover of the book.

‘
That
I have never seen. Charteris, now, his mark is an
H
and
C
. You wouldna be mistaking him?’

‘There’s no mistake.’

The bookseller shrugged. ‘Aye, like as no’. There’s printers come and go, I do not ken them all.’

Hew bought the book for Nicholas. ‘This Christian Hall,’ he said aside to Giles, as he counted out the coins, ‘is something of a mystery.’ But Giles appeared distracted.

‘Aye, but what’s that there?’

A crowd of college boys were clustered round a stall.

‘What do they there?’ Giles worried. ‘Who gave them leave to go about the fair?’

‘Ah, let them be!’ Hew grinned, ‘they are but boys!’

‘And they are my concern,’ his friend replied severely. ‘Though you may treat your own concerns more lightly, I must bear the weight of mine. Let us at least see what attracts them.’

Hew snorted rudely. ‘I recall, that it was your idea to come out to your fair. You should start as guilty as your charges, truant as you are.’

‘But since I am their principal, I must be their guide,’ insisted Giles. ‘They are green and young, and ripe for their corruption. What is it they are looking at?’

As Giles approached, the students gasped and scattered, adding weight to the suggestion of their guilt. The stallholder called out, ‘Ah, gentlemen, I doubt you must be cats that chase away my gulls.’

‘Then do you gull them, sir?’ Giles quizzed him sternly.

‘I, sir? Not at all. Come, see for yourselves.’

He gestured to his wares, laid out across the surface of his stall, and Hew saw that what had drawn the student customers were rows of playing cards. Some were in their wrappers, tied with threads and
overprinted
with the manufacturer’s mark, but several packs lay open on the counter in a fan, with queen and knave and king, block printed and hand coloured, stencilled in yellow and red.

‘Card games, sirs,’ the seller caught Giles’ eye. ‘These I have printed myself, and are yours for a very fair price. And for a gentleman like you, sir,’ he said, winking at Hew, ‘something finer, perhaps: a game of tarock? You know it, sir? It is a game of tricks.’ He produced a pack of cards with a flourish and in a sweep of hand displayed them on the counter like a fan, for Hew to see their pictures edged with gilt. ‘
Trionfii
, from Italy.’

Giles interrupted, ‘We have no wish for
Tarrochi
. I see now why the boys have scattered. Gaming is prohibited, of course. Follow, if you will …’ he instructed Hew, and wandered off.

‘A moment, aye,’ Hew answered absently. He picked up a trump card, edged in gold leaf. ‘These are very fine. This is the Traitor, some say the Hanged Man. And here is the Devil himself.’

‘Yes sir,
Il Diavolo
.’

‘Are you come from Italy?’

‘Not I. I come from Flanders, sir, and bought those on my travels. By trade I am a pressman.’

‘Indeed? You speak perfect Scots.’

‘My mother was a Scot,’ the card seller explained, ‘and I was born at the Scots house at Campvere. As a boy, I was prenticed to a printing house at Antwerp, but when the Spanish came I made my way northwest, to Middelburg. Will you take the cards, sir?’

‘Indeed, I think I shall.’ Hew felt for his purse. ‘Are you a Lutheran, then?’ he asked astutely.

‘A Calvinist, as my mother was before me. My master, a playing card maker, died after the auto-da-fé.’

Hew stared at him. That there were horrors there, beneath the quiet tone, he had no doubt. ‘Then I am sorry for it,’ he said gently. ‘What has brought you here?’

‘As I say, I moved northwards to Middelburg, where I hoped to establish a press. But the costs of such a venture cannot be imagined. I found myself in debt. At length I took up my stock to Campvere, and boarded the first ship that sailed from the harbour; and, as luck would have it, it was coming here.’ The card seller looked around
fearfully
, dropping his voice.

‘Here, at least, you are free to follow your faith,’ Hew encouraged him. ‘And you need have no fear of the Spanish.’

He had sympathy for the man’s tale, that hid behind the facts a dark sense of desperation and of loss.

‘When the fair is over, what will you do?’

The card seller shrugged. ‘As my wares must show, I’m skilled in printing colours. There’s an art to laying red on black. I will find a press and beg for work. I hope to stay in Scotland, though I may go north or south.’

‘Then I wish you well,’ Hew pocketed his change. ‘And thank you for the cards. What is your name?’

‘Marten. Marten Voet.’

‘Aye? Well thank you, Marten, and good luck.’

‘What have you there?’ Giles had returned with a parcel.

‘A pretty thing. A game of tricks,’ Hew answered thoughtfully.

‘Truly? Then I’ll warrant you’re as bad as all the bairns, whose heads are turned by tricks and toys. I dare not leave you for a moment,’ snorted Giles. ‘Well, now, tis the dinner hour. I have made my purchase, and the students all are fled. Let us walk through the harbour and up the kirk heugh.’

As they came through the seagate, they heard a voice cry, ‘Doctor Locke!’ Giles gave a groan. ‘It is the coroner,’ he muttered to Hew. ‘No doubt you will remember him. He and I have had some dealings since you left.

‘Sir Michael!’ he called out, pleasantly and pointedly. ‘Are you come here to the fair? We were there ourselves, but presently, and now it is the dinner hour, we go home for our dinner.’

‘There is no time for that,’ the coroner said cryptically. ‘The tide is coming in.’

Giles looked a little puzzled. ‘We are not having fish,’ he offered, as a reasonable response.

‘Did you not receive my order, sir? I sent word to your house.’

‘As I said, we have been to the fair.’

‘No matter, you are here now. Come quickly. And you, sir,’ he looked closely at Hew, ‘you are Hew Cullan, I remember you, and have heard of you but lately. Well then, well met. You shall come too as a witness.’

‘What have you heard?’ Hew demanded. The coroner was not a man whose acquaintance he had hoped to make again.

‘The advocate Richard Cunningham informs me that you are to be his pupil at the bar. In that you are most fortunate. He is an excellent man.’

‘In that you are deceived, sir,’ Hew said, rather churlishly. ‘No such arrangement was made.’

The coroner stared at his rudeness. ‘Then I am misinformed. We will not stay here to argue the point.’ He turned again to Giles. ‘The body is in a cave on the shore, betwixt the harbour and the castle, and once the tide is in, the place becomes impassable. We must go straight away.’

‘Then there has been a death?’

‘Of course there has, man! What have I been saying?’

‘Ah, then, no, not I,’ protested Hew. ‘I cannot help you here.’

‘You can, sir, and must. Pray you, bear witness. Do not refuse the Crown.’

‘Aye, Hew, come along,’ Giles colluded briskly, ‘for the sooner we are gone, the sooner we are done.’

‘Let us keep our voices low,’ the coroner advised, as they hurried through the harbour. ‘I have no wish to cause alarm. It is difficult enough to keep order at the fair.’

‘I understood the fair to have its own court,’ remarked Hew.

‘Aye, it does. It does not extend to slaughter,’ the coroner said tersely.

Giles pursed his lips. ‘You suspect foul play?’

‘Tis possible the poor lass drowned. But the harbourmaster says it’s like no drowning he has seen, which is why I sought your advice. She’s a low enough wench, of no worth. I want no hue and cry.’

‘Then it’s a lass?’ Hew said, moved. ‘Does anyone know who she was?’

The coroner shrugged. ‘As I say, she is no one. Keep your voices low, we do not want a crowd. I would be obliged, sir,’ he turned again to Giles, ‘if you could hazard how and when she died, whether she were drowned, or unnaturally killed.’

‘Who found the body?’ wondered Giles.

‘One of the fishermen. They come here with their lasses, to be secret in the caves, and tease them with the danger of the tides. There’s one lad and lass that will not deal again,’ the coroner said grimly. ‘We questioned them both closely, and are well assured, they had no part in this. Now, sirs, down by the side of the pier. Be wary of the seaweed on the rocks.’

They clambered down the wall at the far side of the harbour, hugging closely to the cliffs, for the tide had begun to come in. The rocks were clogged and brackish, wet and spongy to the touch. Hew began to sink a little as they made their way towards the castle beach. They walked across the narrow strip of shore until they came to a chasm cut into the cliff, where they saw a bare foot stretching, tangled in the weed. The girl was lying in the sand, like a restless child asleep, one arm thrown above her swollen face. She was wearing her cap still, a little adrift.

‘Is this how she was found?’ Giles asked.

The coroner shook his head. ‘Her dress was found over her face, and her nether parts exposed. We lifted back her skirts. The
harbourmaster
says he has no knowledge of her. That implies she is a stranger here.’

Gently, Giles lifted the arm and examined her hand. ‘A fisherlass, though. Look at her fingers,’ he muttered to Hew. ‘See how cracked and raw they are; that comes from the herrings. The sea water hardens and thickens the skin, but these little sores never heal. She is young, sixteen, I hazard, small and badly nourished for her age. And she is very poor, though I infer that she was coming to the fair, or else had been there. Though her clothes are old, they are her Sunday best. Her dress is clean.’

‘How did she die?’ the coroner persisted. ‘Did she drown?’

‘Her hair and clothes are soaked, possibly from spray. Tis possible she drowned, but I do not think it likely. I would hazard, if we cut her open, we would find no water there. Tis hard enough to see, through this discolouration, but there are bruises on her face around her mouth, the pressure of a hand, that was meant to stop her cries. Do you see this, Hew? This is the mark of his thumb. Now …’

Carefully, he folded back her dress, and the thin thighs flopped open, willing in death. ‘She has been dead perhaps a day and night. There is no rigor here. And she is not a maid. And yet there is a little blood and bruising on the thighs, which does suggest, that she was recently a maid, or else she was taken by force. Though I cannot be sure, I conjecture that this lass was smothered: suffocated, that’s to say. And she has been raped.’

‘Then it’s as I feared,’ the coroner said gloomily. ‘We must hope this is a singular transgression, that will not occur again. We will leave her here till nightfall, and the next low tide, when I will have her taken to St Leonard’s kirk. There is a place there will serve as a dead house, for a day or two. If no one comes to claim her, we can bury her in private, and allow this death to go unmarked. We may be thankful she is of little worth.’

‘How can you say so?’ Hew asked, appalled. ‘She was a girl of sixteen!’

‘My concern is to prevent rumour from spreading, and from causing riot and disorder at the fair. It takes little enough to set off the mob. But my office is to make arrests, and act on the instruction of the Crown. My jurisdiction does not extend to solving crimes,’ the coroner said evenly. ‘If you would see justice done, provide the justice with a suspect, and I will be glad to make an arrest. As I recall, you did so once before.’

‘What does he imply,’ Hew demanded as he left, ‘because I solved one crime, am I responsible for all? There is nothing I can do.’

‘I am inclined to agree,’ Giles answered sadly. The likelihood is that this poor child’s killer has left in a boat. The town is filled with strangers, and unless he kills again – God willing, he will not – the lass will take his secret to the grave. I am right sorry that you had to see this, Hew. I ought not to have encouraged it. Go on ahead, and say I won’t be back for dinner. I will make her decent for the man who comes to bury her.’