Read Online The Harper's Quine by Pat McIntosh - Free Book Online

purse, to keep it in.
I wonder what has happened to that?’

    ‘My thought,’ agreed Gil.
    ‘We must find these laddies and question them. It must
be nearly noon - will they sing also at Nones? We can
catch them then.’
    ‘More like two of the other boys,’ Gil said. ‘They take
turns. It’s cheaper, and doesn’t tire their voices. I’ll speak
to Patrick - no doubt he can help. Where are your men
now? Have you asked them about Davie’s lass?’
    ‘Alys spoke to them. I am not certain what she learned.
They are up-by, searching the top of the kirkyard, since
most of Glasgow is now gone home to its noon piece.
Maister lawyer, this gallowglass must be questioned,
I think. Suppose you leave us here and go see to that?’
    The Sempill property was a large sprawling townhouse, an
uneasy mix of stone tower and timber additions set round
a courtyard. Three hens and a pair of pigeons occupied the
courtyard; voices floated from an open window, and someone was practising the lute. Gil paused under the arch of
the gateway, then, on the grounds that he represented St
Mungo’s, moved towards the stairs to the main door.
    He had taken barely two steps into the courtyard when
sound exploded behind him, an enormous barking and
clanking and scrabble of claws. He whirled, drawing his
sword, leaping backwards through a flurry of wings, as the
mastiff hurtled to the end of its chain bellowing threats.
Laughter from the house suggested that he had been seen.
He took another prudent step backwards, assessing the
huge animal with its rolls of brindled muscle. Ropes of
saliva hung from the white fangs in the powerful jaws. He
looked carefully at the chain, then sheathed his whinger,
turned and strolled to the stairs, controlling his breathing
with some difficulty. Behind him the dog continued to bay
furiously until Sempill appeared in the doorway.
    ‘Doucette!’ he bawled. ‘Down! You were safe enough,’ he added, grinning as the noise dropped. He had discarded the cherry velvet, and wore a very old leather
jerkin. ‘We only let her loose at night.’

    ‘I hope the chain is secure,’ Gil commented. Behind him
metal rattled as the dog lay down with reluctance, still
snarling. ‘You could find yourself with a serious action
against you if she got loose and killed something.’
    The grin vanished. Sempill grunted in answer, and said,
‘I suppose you’re here to ask more questions.’
    ‘I wish to speak to the man who took your message last
night,’ Gil agreed. ‘And perhaps I might ask the rest of
your household if they saw anything unusual in the kirkyard when we left Compline.’
    ‘Why? You were there. You know what there was to
see.’
    ‘Someone else might have noticed something different.’
    Sempill stared at him, then said ungraciously, ‘Wait in
here, I’ll send Neil to you. I’ll see if the others will speak
to you as well - but you’re not to upset Euphemia,
mind.’
    He showed Gil into a small closet off the hall. It
contained a clutter of half-repaired harness, for man
and horse, and some leather-working tools laid on the
windowsill.
    ‘Fool of a groom in charge here,’ said Sempill, seeing Gil
looking at these. ‘I swear by the Rood, half the leather in
the place is rotted, I’m having to overhaul the lot, but if
I beat him as he deserves, who’s to see to Doucette out
there?’
    He strolled off, ostentatiously casual, shouting, ‘Neil!
Neil, come here, you blichan!’ Gil sat down by the window
and studied the array of tools. There were some nasty
triangular needles, a leather palm, a vicious little knife. He
lifted the awl and turned it in his hand, feeling the
point.
    ‘Fery sharp,’ said a voice. Gil turned, to see one of the
two men-at-arms occupying most of the doorway. ‘The
chentleman wished to see me?’

    Gil studied the man briefly. Dark hair cut short to go
under a helm, dark eyebrows in a long narrow face, blue
eyes which slid