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

brother,’
added Sempill.
    ‘Have some claret, priest,’ suggested one of the two men
by the blank fireplace, darkly handsome and much
Sempill’s age. ‘Since my good-brother does not see fit to
introduce us, let me tell you I am James Campbell of
Glenstriven. Are you here to explain why we’ve to wait to
finish this sale?’
    ‘In a way,’ agreed Gil, accepting a cup of wine and
adding water. ‘I am Gilbert Cunningham of the Consistory
Court.’ He waited until the familiar chill in his stomach
dispelled itself, and continued, ‘I’ll drink to a successful
conclusion with you. Perhaps John has already explained
that Bess Stewart his wife was killed last night in the
kirkyard of St Mungo’s. We need to find out who did it
and take him up.’
    ‘Why?’ said Campbell of Glenstriven. ‘She was an adulterous wife, she’s dead. Why bother yourself with her?’
    ‘That comes well from you, James Campbell!’ said
Sempill indignantly.
    ‘I spoke nothing but the truth.’
    ‘She was a Christian soul killed on Church land,’ said
Gil, ‘and she died unshriven of her adultery. St Mungo’s
owes her justice. Moreover, the manner of her death must
be clarified before John’s sole right to the land can be
certain.’
    ‘Why?’ said Sempill blankly. ‘What’s that to do with it?’ Behind him there was a pause in the chatter at the other
end of the room.

    ‘You mean in case it was John killed her?’ said Campbell
of Glenstriven.
    Sempill’s colour rose. ‘I never set eyes on her last night!’
he said loudly. ‘I wanted her agreement, she’d to turn out
today and sign her name - I never killed her!’
    ‘I have not said you did,’ said Gil. ‘Just the same, that’s
why the sale must wait.’
    Philip Sempill looked up from his wine. Physically he
was a paler imitation of his cousin, fair rather than sandy,
less stocky, quieter in speech and movement and less forceful in manner. Like him, he was wearing an old leather
jerkin, which contrasted oddly with James Campbell’s
wide-sleeved green velvet gown.
    ‘Och, well,’ he said, his voice sounding thickened. ‘Ask
away, Gil. We’ll answer you, at least.’
    His cousin stared at him.
    ‘You got the rheum, Philip? You can stay away from
Euphemia if you have, I don’t want her getting sick just
now.,
    ‘It’s nothing much,’ said the fair man. ‘Gil?’
    Gil hesitated, considering. The three men watched him;
the two women had gone back to their sewing, but he was
aware that Lady Euphemia flicked him a glance from time
to time. Squaring his shoulders, he began:
    ‘You were all at Compline.’ The three men nodded. ‘Was
the kirkyard busy when you went down to St Mungo’s?’
    ‘I wouldn’t say so,’ said Philip Sempill. ‘A few folk
coming down from the Stablegreen and Rottenrow, a last
few youngsters going home to a beating for staying out.
I saw a couple in that stand of haw-bushes.’
    ‘Would you know them again?’ Gil asked.
    The other man shook his head. ‘Likely not. Oh - the boy
had striped hose on. The Deil knows where he got such a
thing in Glasgow.’
    I saw them,’ said Euphemia Campbell, breaking off her
chatter. She had a high pretty voice with a laugh in it, and a dimple came and went in her cheek as she spoke. ‘But
they were further down the hill. I wondered where he got
the striped hose too. Surely not in Glasgow, I never saw
such a dreary place. I swear you can buy better wares in
Rothesay.’

    ‘When did you see them?’ Gil asked.
    She giggled. ‘It must have been later, mustn’t it, if they
were in the haw-trees when Philip saw them? Maybe after
Compline when we all came out?’
    I never saw them,’ said Sempill suspiciously.
    ‘Maybe you were looking at me,’ she cooed. He stared at
her as if he could not help it, and she smiled at him so that
the dimple flashed then turned back to her sewing and her
chatter, with what appeared to be a highly coloured
account