Friend & Foe (25 page)

The coroner said then, ‘The man you speak of, Master John, is presently in ward. He has given himself up in answer to the charge that he has dealt with Gowrie, and against the king, and that he did not represent the interests of his Grace, and of the duke of Lennox, honestly and fairly in his embassy to England, which was undertaken during Gowrie’s rule.’

‘As I understand,’ said Hew, ‘the king is ill-disposed to him.’

‘The more so, because he has maligned the duke of Lennox. Colville’s is the voice,’ Andrew marked the irony, ‘against whose accusations you must make defence, when you put on trial the dead duke’s heart. Wherefore, I will give you leave and obtain for you the commission you require to search the castle, on the sole condition that you will report to me, and to no one else. Speak Colville’s name to no one, including the archbishop. Do you understand? The king’s defence is paramount.’

‘I understand you, sir.’ Hew could not help but feel a shiver of excitement.

‘Then papers will be drawn, and sent to you at once. I leave you to your packing,’ Andrew Wood replied. He seemed, of a sudden, anxious to be gone.

‘There were two things, as you said,’ Hew reminded him. ‘What, then, was the second one?’

The coroner let slip a smile, the slightest flicker of his lips. ‘I almost had forgotten that. You ought perhaps to know, that someone in the college here has formed a grudge against you. A letter has been sent to my brother Robert.’

‘What kind of letter?’ questioned Hew, a darker mood descending at the thought of Clare.

‘A letter which asserted you had congress with his wife. Can you tell me now there is no truth to it?’

‘I swear upon my life,’ he answered quietly, ‘there is no thread of truth to it. When was this letter sent?’

‘It was sent some weeks ago. But I have had, you will observe, more close and pressing matters on my mind. It was, in truth, of small account. The ranting of a jealous child. But there can be no doubt it came from St Salvator’s. It bore the college stamp.’

Hew felt sick at heart. He saw Roger’s dark head huddled at his desk, and understood the lengths the boys had gone to trap him, plotting from the start to catch him in their snare. The full force of their feud against him now was made quite clear to him, and for a second he forgot the fears he had for Clare. He struggled to compose himself. ‘I believe I know what person sent the letter. It is a student here, who feels I owe a debt to him. Forgive me, sir, I cannot say his name.’

‘Then I must take your word on it, and leave it to your conscience to avenge.’ Andrew watched him narrowly. ‘The pity is, that Robert had dismissed it as a fraud, until his wife confessed to it.’

‘I do not believe you, sir.’ Hew curled tight his fists. He saw that Andrew Wood intended to provoke, and swallowed back his rage. He did not, for a second, think the worst of Clare.

‘What devil has he done to her? If he has done her hurt . . .’

‘Clare is safe and well.’ Sir Andrew Wood appeared to smile, and Hew conceived a hatred then that he had rarely felt.

‘This passion, sir, will do you no good grace, sin it reveals the workings of your heart,’ the coroner advised him. ‘I did warn you once, that you were too attached to her. But have no fears for Clare. For sin she is a woman, and she is his wife, Robert has concluded she is not to blame in this.’

‘For certain, she is not to blame. You must inform your brother that the letter is a lie.’

‘So I should have done, sir, had she not confessed to it.’

‘She did not confess to it!’

The coroner regarded him, with shrewd and careful scrutiny. After a moment, he nodded. ‘It is possible, I doubt, that Robert has invented that, to press the charge against you, and enlist me to his cause. Leave it in my hands, and I will speak to Clare, and if there is no truth to it, will plead your case to Robert. What action would you bring against the letter writer?’

‘And it please you, give me leave to deal with that myself.’ Hew scowled.

Sir Andrew shook his head. ‘You are a stubborn tyke. Aye, then, as you will. I will leave you to make peace of the muddle in your mind, for, as I perceive, there is confusion there.’

Hew’s mind, it was true, was thick with clouded thoughts, but though his mind was dark, he saw through clear enough. His thoughts had turned from Clare to James and Roger Cunningham. At the start of the next term, he would call them to account. Most likely, when it came to light, they would be expelled. Both boys were distracted by their father’s death, but Hew was shaken to discover just how deep that went. This was more than a call for his attention, but a calculated plot, that had worked for his destruction, and he could not let it pass. The boys must have a hearing that was full and fair, whatever was the consequence for Hew. And if they were combined, a fierce destructive force, by setting them apart, could there be a chance for either boy? Giles might speak for Roger, since
he saw the good in him. Andrew Melville too, perhaps, might agree to counsel James. Hew dared to hope the boys would see the wrong they did. For, if they could not, then they were living testament to Andrew Melville’s tenet that a man’s end was decided in the moment he was born, and Hew, for all his faith, could not believe in that. Or else they were the instruments of that unruly Fate, that lifts a man up high, to spin him to his ruin.

Sir Andrew spent the night in town, at his brother’s house. For though they were not close, there was a pact between them, certain business interests that they kept and shared. Robert had the wealth and Andrew had the influence to press those interests home. Andrew had brought wine from the inn in Huckster’s Wynd. He poured a draught for Robert, but declined to drink himself. The servant brought in supper, and the two men dined alone, on salmon in a green herb sauce, for Clare was lying down. They spoke of business at the mill, and politics at court.

‘How does the king now?’Robert asked.

‘He is fretful still. He has reconvened his council, and dismissed those lords, that he perceives did move and act against him.’ Andrew’s tone was flat. He never had disclosed the side that he was on, nor whether he approved of Gowrie’s prudent government, which left his brother Robert both intrigued and irked. No right thinking man could fail to see that Gowrie had done service to the king, however harsh the means by which he had effected it. Now James was free to deal again with parasites and flatterers.

‘And the earl of Gowrie?’

‘Gowrie he has pardoned, for the while. But since his Grace has taken up again with some of his old friends – Arran in particular – he may change his mind,’ Andrew answered, neutral still. He reached across the board, to fill his brother’s glass. ‘I heard tell that the English queen is sending an ambassador to remonstrate with James, displeased with these events. She takes it ill that he has chopped and changed his Privy Council, without consulting her.
And while she will not say that he should have been held against his will, yet she is convicted that they had his good at heart. She warns him too against the earl of Arran. Her man will speak her mind. And you may be assured, the king will not like that.’

Robert took a sip. ‘Aye? What man is that?’

‘She sends, as I have heard, a man called Francis Walsingham, that is her privy secretar. An old man in his dotage, and of no account. The matter is, his coming will not please the king. We may see trouble yet.’

‘Ye are well informed,’ Robert answered sourly, jealous of his brother’s closeness to the court. I do not dare to ask the source of your intelligence. I doubt you are too occupied with wiping James’ arse to trouble much with matters closer to your home.’

Andrew shook his head. ‘I have not forgotten it.’

Clare joined them after supper, sitting close to Robert, quiet by the fire. The colour, life and energy had wilted from her cheeks. Andrew Wood had seen the bloom of pregnancy transform his wife Elizabeth into a dew-eyed blossom, blowsy and full blown. It was not a transformation that he cared for much, but he knew it boded well for the prospects of the child. He saw no such bloom in Clare.

‘I was sorry,’ he remarked, ‘not to see you here at supper. I hope that you are well.’

She did not raise her eyes. ‘I thank you, sir. I was not well. But I am quite well now.’

He dared to ask her, ‘And the child?’

Clare stole a glance at Robert. ‘As I think, the child is well. I have felt it quicken.’

‘Robert tells me,’ Andrew said, ‘it will want a foster mother.’

Clare did not look up. ‘So I understand.’

‘It is quite common,’ Robert said, ‘to put a bairn to foster, when it has a mother neither well nor fit for it, as has proved the case.’

‘Indeed, it is quite common,’ Andrew Wood agreed. ‘I have spoken with Elizabeth, and she will take the bairn, to bring up with
her own, if ye should so please. Our youngest child is not yet weaned, and she has plenty milk.’

Clare looked up at that, but it was difficult to read the expression on her face. ‘To bring up in your house?’

Robert was drunk, and increasingly belligerent. ‘I have no doubt Elizabeth will thank us for the money, now that the king will be racking up new debts.’

Andrew did not rise to this. ‘It was kindly meant.’

‘Your kindness, sir, were better spent in seeing to your charge. It is harder for a woman to recover fit and well, when the cause of her disgrace remains at large and liberty, and vaunts about the town. You do not keep your promise, sir. If you will not contain him, then I must myself.’

‘Patience,’ Andrew smiled. ‘Learn to play the long game, Robert. For that young man has slipped his head into the hangman’s noose; a little patience now, will make secure the knot.’

Clare turned white at this, and presently excused herself.

When Andrew too retired to rest, he found her waiting by his bed. ‘You should not be here,’ he said.

‘Robert will not ken, sin he is dead drunk. I would that he were dead.’

‘You do not mean that, Clare.’ He touched her on the cheek, and she shrank back a little.

‘He will take the child.’

‘But it will not be lost. I will take it to Elizabeth.’ His voice was cool and practical.

Clare nodded. ‘Then I must thank you for that. It was none of it, you see, what I had intended. I wanted Robert’s child. I came to ask you what you meant about the hangman’s knot?’

‘Words. To keep your husband quiet,’ he assured her.

‘I do not believe you. For you do not say things that you do not mean. I want to have your promise that no harm will come to Hew.’

Andrew shook his head. ‘I cannot promise that.’

‘I have no will to hurt him, Andrew,’ Clare pleaded. ‘He is quite blameless in this.’

‘Aye? But you confessed.’

He was quite detached, like a man of law, setting out a case. Perhaps it was a test, or he believed it too. He very seldom showed to her the workings of his heart. Clare would not be beaten by him. ‘That was a mistake. Robert tricked me to it. For I did not fully understand the question that he put to me. I do not dissemble well. I am not like you. But you should be aware, if you will not help Hew, then I will tell the truth.’

Roger lay down with his brother in the Dysart inn. He was stiff and weary from the hours spent on the road. He was not used to riding; nor was he as athletic as his brother. The bed was rough and thin, and he suspected, far from clean. Below they heard their fellow travellers, drinking after hours. Roger crept in closer next to James.

‘Wid ye stop wrabiling?’ his brother complained. ‘Keep your vermin to yourself.’

Roger closed his eyes, and thought about the teeming life that squirmed among the sheets. ‘There are fleas in the bed here.’ Maybe, he could catch one, and keep it in a jar. He could fill it up with blood, and feed it till it burst.

‘Nae more of your filth.’ His brother pinched him sharply, promising a bruise. There was comfort, still, in lying next to James. The older boy had taken time to notice him. But when he did, he had admired his brother’s subtle skill, his cunning and his craftiness, his deftness with a knife. He and James were partners, and a perfect team.

While other students slumped in taverns, chased in caichpells, played at golf, Roger’s play days were spent working at the flesher’s block; on carcases and specimens dissected in his room, slitting through the lamplight in the midnight hours. The bladder had been delicate, and difficult to fill, but Roger had perfected it, through a little spout. Though he had taken care to map the path of flight, he
could not be certain that the ball would burst. His brother had achieved it, with a perfect shot.

The hardest part, for Roger, was to keep his counsel close, and not to take the credit for the cunning of his trick. Though it pleased his pride to have defeated Hew, it vexed him to the core that he dared not point this out.

James said, ‘I did not see your friend, when we were setting off.’

‘He went home early, to Dunkeld. His father is not well.’

‘Your little friend is fortunate, in that he has a father still.’

James could be overweening, sometimes, with an elder brother’s insolence. But he was bigger than Roger, and more ready with his fists, though he was not as clever. James could not have thought up the bladder on the hawthorn tree, and, if he had thought of it, could not have made it burst without Roger’s help.

‘He will not have one long.’ Roger felt a sudden pang, and fondness for poor George, who had left the college looking quite forlorn. He was thankful Robert Wood had not taken his advice, and weathered him with stripes, since George’s future prospects now seemed bleak enough.

‘Doctor Locke has said,’ Roger changed the subject, ‘that if I work hard and acquit myself well, he will recommend me for the course in medicine at the Collegium Scoticum, in Paris. He lived there, at the Rue des Fosses, and shared a room with Master Hew.’

‘You silly little bairn,’ James snorted, ‘you will never be a doctor.’

‘That is all you ken. I do not see why not. Professor Locke has promised he will ask our mother. And also, he has said—’

‘All that will count for nought, when he kens what you have done. Do ye think that he will keep you, when he knows you wrote that letter that was meant to hurt his friend? The same friend that he lodged with in the Rue des Fosses, and that is his own wife’s brother? He will not want to ken you, when he knows what ye have done.’