Read Online St Mungo's Robin by Pat McIntosh - Free Book Online Page B

side, as if the Deacon was there and all. No in his own place opposite Maister
Millar,’ he gestured at the two more elaborate stalls nearest the altar, ‘but down the west end next to Father Anselm. Maybe Mistress Mudie saw him,’ he added, ‘she was near
the outer door when we came in, though she aye slips out after the Elevation to see to their porridge.’
    Gil stopped at the altar step and turned, looking into the shadows.
    ‘Go and sit where you thought you saw him,’ he suggested. Lowrie obliged, spreading one hand across his chest to simulate the badge, and Gil nodded agreement. ‘Aye, I see what
you mean. Your face is hid by the side where it curves out, but I can see your hand fine. Michael, what can you see?’
    ‘The now?’ said Michael nervously. ‘I can see his hand, aye, if he’d a bedehouse cloak on you’d see the badge fine. And I’ll swear the Deacon wasny in his own
seat the morn,’ he added.
    ‘So was he here, then?’ Lowrie asked. Socrates reared up, one paw on the book-rest, peering into his face, and he reached out and patted the dog.
    ‘Aye, but he can’t have been.’ Gil paced down between the stalls, frowning. ‘There’s no doubt the man we lifted from the garden was dead by Compline last
night.’
    ‘Maister Forsyth’s lecture,’ said Michael.
    ‘Aye, but before you go, Michael, I want a word wi you.’
    The two students exchanged glances.
    ‘I’ll wait outside,’ said Lowrie.
    As the door closed behind him Michael seemed to brace himself as for execution. Gil eyed him with some sympathy, and said reassuringly, ‘It’s none of my duty to oversee your
behaviour, Michael. I’m no asking who she is.’
    ‘You’re no?’
    ‘No. Just watch you don’t get entangled in something your father won’t support.’ Michael stared at him open-mouthed, and he went on, ‘I want to know about your
movements, yesternight and the morn – what time were you stirring about the bedehouse, and where. Even if you saw nothing, it helps.’
    ‘Oh.’ Michael swallowed. ‘I never thought of that. We must have – Oh,’ he said again, and put a hand on the nearest desk to steady himself.
    ‘Did your lass come in by this gate?’
    Michael swallowed again, and shook his head.
    ‘Past Sissie Mudie?’ he said. ‘Not likely! I’ve got the keys,’ he disclosed. ‘I’d got permission to lie out of the college for the night, seeing as I
was to ready the lodging for the old man – for my father. He’s due in Glasgow the morn for your marriage, maister.’ Gil nodded. ‘So I opened the back gate for her. That
would be about . . .’ He paused, reckoning. ‘After Sissie was done trotting about getting two of the old brothers to their beds. One of them has the house opposite ours, and the other
one’s next the hall. It would be near an hour after they finished their dinner, I suppose, afore even she started. And then the mad one began a great scene, and it took her long enough to
settle him. It felt like past midnight afore all was quiet, though I suppose it wasny.’
    ‘And you opened the back yett and let the lassie in,’ said Gil, ‘and then what?’
    ‘Well, she was a bit – with the waiting, you understand,’ Michael confessed hesitantly. ‘Sissie took so much longer than I’d expected, and it was gey dark out on
the Stablegreen, even with a lantern, and my – she was a wee thing upset, she said she kept hearing things. So I locked the gate quick and we got within doors, and then . . .’ He
paused, with the glimmerings of an embarrassed smile.
    ‘That’s all I need to know,’ said Gil, suppressing his envy again. ‘So you locked the yett. You’re quite certain?’
    ‘Oh, aye. She wasny well pleased,’ said Michael cautiously, ‘that I took the time.’
    ‘And you saw nothing untoward? Nobody moving about or hiding behind trees?’
    ‘I wasny looking,’ said Michael.
    ‘A light in the Deacon’s lodging?’
    ‘I wasny –’ Michael stopped, and