dog had found, but Socrates put one hairy paw on top of it and bared his teeth a little further, then snatched the object up
himself and came to be praised for defending the young men, waving his tail. Gil patted him, accepted his gift, and said in apology, ‘I should have warned you no to try their lodgings, or at
least to be careful how you went. Did they strike you?’
‘Oh, it was no worse than my grandsire shouting at the servants,’ said Lowrie easily. ‘We’ve no found the cloak so far, maister.’
‘Did the dog find anything? No signs of blood? What’s this he’s brought me?’
‘No,’ said Michael in his gruff voice before his friend could speak. He had grown in the six months since Gil had first encountered him at the University, but was still shorter than
Lowrie, lightly built and mousy-haired, with a pointed chin and sharp cheekbones. ‘No a thing. He checked the place where the corp was lying again, but he never went anywhere else after
it.’
‘This is a stocking,’ Gil said in surprise, looking at the object his dog had given him. ‘Where did he find it? I’d best return it.’ He broke off, looking more
closely. Still crumpled in the folds in which it had been slid off its wearer’s leg, the item was wet from the grass and from Socrates’ mouth, but otherwise relatively clean. He shook
it out; it was finely knitted of linen thread, with clocks of fancy work on either side of the ankle, and it was barely longer than Gil’s hand and forearm. The mark of the garter was clearly
visible near the top.
‘This was never an old man’s garment. It’s a lassie’s stocking,’ said Gil. ‘What’s that doing in the alms-house?’
The two young men glanced at one another.
‘Er,’ said Michael, the scarlet flooding up over his face. ‘Er . . .’
‘Michael has access to the Douglas lodging,’ said Lowrie candidly, ‘which is the last house yonder by the gate, and a key to the gate itself. Need we say more,
maister?’
Michael threw him a grateful look. Gil glanced at the stocking again and knew a surge of envy. Al nicht by the rose ich lay. To be alone with one’s sweetheart – abed with
one’s sweetheart, indeed – without all the tumult of feasts and invitations, wedding-clothes and linen lists –
‘Well, well,’ he said, mustering a grin from somewhere, and handed the stocking over. ‘Don’t make any promises your father won’t approve, Michael. I hope you got
her out well before it was light.’
Michael nodded, mumbling something indistinct, and hastily stowed the delicate object in the breast of his gown.
‘We’d best be away, maister,’ said Lowrie. ‘We’ve a lecture at eleven o’clock.’
‘So Nick said,’ agreed Gil. ‘Come in out the rain first, and tell me what you’ve found.’
‘That’s easy done,’ said Lowrie, following him into the passageway through the main range. ‘We’ve found neither cloak nor hat, and the dog showed no more interest
in any of the places we’ve been.’
‘And where was that?’
‘No the chapel,’ said Michael.
‘No the chapel,’ agreed Lowrie, ‘since they were saying Terce, but we’ve looked in all the outhouses that were unlocked, save where the Deacon’s laid out, and we
looked in the kitchen. Mistress Mudie took the huff,’ he confessed, ‘and insisted we look in her own chamber off the kitchen and all, and in her kist. That was a bit – she’d
that Maister Humphrey in the kitchen, the mad one, and the dog wasny very taken wi him. Anyway, we’ve been everywhere we could, except the Deacon’s lodging and Maister Millar’s.
Oh, and we looked in here,’ he added, waving a hand to encompass the shadowy hall.
‘And the old men’s lodgings?’ Gil asked.
Lowrie made a face. ‘We’d already looked in Michael’s lodging – the Douglas house, the one at the far end on the right – and we’d got into all of them except
the mad one’s, which is when they cam tottering out wi their
himself and came to be praised for defending the young men, waving his tail. Gil patted him, accepted his gift, and said in apology, ‘I should have warned you no to try their lodgings, or at
least to be careful how you went. Did they strike you?’
‘Oh, it was no worse than my grandsire shouting at the servants,’ said Lowrie easily. ‘We’ve no found the cloak so far, maister.’
‘Did the dog find anything? No signs of blood? What’s this he’s brought me?’
‘No,’ said Michael in his gruff voice before his friend could speak. He had grown in the six months since Gil had first encountered him at the University, but was still shorter than
Lowrie, lightly built and mousy-haired, with a pointed chin and sharp cheekbones. ‘No a thing. He checked the place where the corp was lying again, but he never went anywhere else after
it.’
‘This is a stocking,’ Gil said in surprise, looking at the object his dog had given him. ‘Where did he find it? I’d best return it.’ He broke off, looking more
closely. Still crumpled in the folds in which it had been slid off its wearer’s leg, the item was wet from the grass and from Socrates’ mouth, but otherwise relatively clean. He shook
it out; it was finely knitted of linen thread, with clocks of fancy work on either side of the ankle, and it was barely longer than Gil’s hand and forearm. The mark of the garter was clearly
visible near the top.
‘This was never an old man’s garment. It’s a lassie’s stocking,’ said Gil. ‘What’s that doing in the alms-house?’
The two young men glanced at one another.
‘Er,’ said Michael, the scarlet flooding up over his face. ‘Er . . .’
‘Michael has access to the Douglas lodging,’ said Lowrie candidly, ‘which is the last house yonder by the gate, and a key to the gate itself. Need we say more,
maister?’
Michael threw him a grateful look. Gil glanced at the stocking again and knew a surge of envy. Al nicht by the rose ich lay. To be alone with one’s sweetheart – abed with
one’s sweetheart, indeed – without all the tumult of feasts and invitations, wedding-clothes and linen lists –
‘Well, well,’ he said, mustering a grin from somewhere, and handed the stocking over. ‘Don’t make any promises your father won’t approve, Michael. I hope you got
her out well before it was light.’
Michael nodded, mumbling something indistinct, and hastily stowed the delicate object in the breast of his gown.
‘We’d best be away, maister,’ said Lowrie. ‘We’ve a lecture at eleven o’clock.’
‘So Nick said,’ agreed Gil. ‘Come in out the rain first, and tell me what you’ve found.’
‘That’s easy done,’ said Lowrie, following him into the passageway through the main range. ‘We’ve found neither cloak nor hat, and the dog showed no more interest
in any of the places we’ve been.’
‘And where was that?’
‘No the chapel,’ said Michael.
‘No the chapel,’ agreed Lowrie, ‘since they were saying Terce, but we’ve looked in all the outhouses that were unlocked, save where the Deacon’s laid out, and we
looked in the kitchen. Mistress Mudie took the huff,’ he confessed, ‘and insisted we look in her own chamber off the kitchen and all, and in her kist. That was a bit – she’d
that Maister Humphrey in the kitchen, the mad one, and the dog wasny very taken wi him. Anyway, we’ve been everywhere we could, except the Deacon’s lodging and Maister Millar’s.
Oh, and we looked in here,’ he added, waving a hand to encompass the shadowy hall.
‘And the old men’s lodgings?’ Gil asked.
Lowrie made a face. ‘We’d already looked in Michael’s lodging – the Douglas house, the one at the far end on the right – and we’d got into all of them except
the mad one’s, which is when they cam tottering out wi their
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