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Authors: Pat McIntosh
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‘What? Where did you get this? How did you find it? You’ll no get—’
‘No summoning of demons,’ she said. ‘I ken that, sir. It was on yon shelf, third one down, at the end of the row of Albert’s works.’
Henry White looked up and nodded briefly as she turned to leave. Jennet came forward from the window with relief, and exclaimed before the door had closed behind them, ‘What’s at greetin-face? He’s like a man that’s swallowed a lemon.’
‘Maybe he has troubles we don’t know of,’ said Alys. She drew her plaid up against the rain, and turned towards the slype.
‘Where are we going now, mem?’ Jennet asked. ‘Somewhere there’s more folk to talk to, maybe?’
It took longer to get away from Blackfriars than she had expected. The friars’ dinner was served, and that for the guest hall was carried in at the same time; after it she felt it necessary to dose everyone in the household with her cough elixir, and to send a flask of the stuff into the convent with her compliments and a placatory message to the Infirmarian. Dinner had been a silent affair; the men were all morose after their morning’s work, the reek of smoke and – yes, burned flesh – which hung over them discouraged conversation, and Gil was disinclined to discuss matters, though he pointed out that it was Father Prior’s decision as to whether he should investigate the death of the young man in the ashes; this would have to wait for a Chapter meeting.
‘What’s in that stuff, mem?’ Tam asked as they made their way out of the gate. ‘Right tasty, it is, I’d never ha taen it for medicine.’
‘That would be the honey,’ Alys said, choosing her path with care over the muddy ruts in the roadway. ‘Then there’s pepper, and sage tea, and thyme. They were out of celery seed, so I had to make the sage tea extra strong.’
‘Pepper,’ Jennet said thoughtfully. ‘Ye’d think it would bite, then, but it doesny. It’s warmer than a comforter at your neck, so it is.’
‘Where are we going, anyway?’ Tam stared about him in the drizzle, and craned to see over the fence into the dyer’s yard they were passing. ‘No the best part o the town, this, is it? A’ the stinking trades by the brig-end, a’ these wee houses; it’s no like Rottenrow.’
‘This way,’ said Alys with confidence, turning onto the path by the Ditch. She had made certain to get directions from the servant who carried out the empty crocks after dinner.
‘Is it that woman that saw the Deil rise up from the man’s house?’ said Jennet, brightening. ‘We’ll can sit in her kitchen and hear it all from her servants, eh, Tam?’
‘If she’ll see me,’ said Alys.
Mistress Buttergask was very happy to see Alys. She was a well-padded woman in a gown of good dark-green wool, hastily assumed over a striped kirtle to welcome her guest, with a very up-to-date black woollen headdress framing a round, sweet face. Her eyes were pale blue and rather vague, though Alys suspected they saw more than appeared.
Having rattled at the pin by the door of the neat stone-built house she had been directed to, Alys found the three of them warmly greeted and drawn in out of the rain, to the accompaniment of a stream of unceasing, welcoming chatter. Tam and Jennet were despatched to the kitchen along with two young maids and orders to bring in spiced wine and cakes, and herself led into a cosy, untidy solar where a small woolly dog had been yapping endlessly since she stepped into the house.
‘Be quiet, Roileag!’ said her hostess without effect. ‘That’s right kind in you, my dearie, to call on me in this weather, I was near deid wi boredom mysel and those two lassies driving me daft wi their prattle. Come in, come in, hae a seat. Gie me that plaidie, we’ll just shake the rain off it,’ she cracked it like a whip and droplets spat and fizzled on the brazier in the centre of the chamber. ‘Hang it here, it’ll be dry by the time you leave, you’ll
‘No summoning of demons,’ she said. ‘I ken that, sir. It was on yon shelf, third one down, at the end of the row of Albert’s works.’
Henry White looked up and nodded briefly as she turned to leave. Jennet came forward from the window with relief, and exclaimed before the door had closed behind them, ‘What’s at greetin-face? He’s like a man that’s swallowed a lemon.’
‘Maybe he has troubles we don’t know of,’ said Alys. She drew her plaid up against the rain, and turned towards the slype.
‘Where are we going now, mem?’ Jennet asked. ‘Somewhere there’s more folk to talk to, maybe?’
It took longer to get away from Blackfriars than she had expected. The friars’ dinner was served, and that for the guest hall was carried in at the same time; after it she felt it necessary to dose everyone in the household with her cough elixir, and to send a flask of the stuff into the convent with her compliments and a placatory message to the Infirmarian. Dinner had been a silent affair; the men were all morose after their morning’s work, the reek of smoke and – yes, burned flesh – which hung over them discouraged conversation, and Gil was disinclined to discuss matters, though he pointed out that it was Father Prior’s decision as to whether he should investigate the death of the young man in the ashes; this would have to wait for a Chapter meeting.
‘What’s in that stuff, mem?’ Tam asked as they made their way out of the gate. ‘Right tasty, it is, I’d never ha taen it for medicine.’
‘That would be the honey,’ Alys said, choosing her path with care over the muddy ruts in the roadway. ‘Then there’s pepper, and sage tea, and thyme. They were out of celery seed, so I had to make the sage tea extra strong.’
‘Pepper,’ Jennet said thoughtfully. ‘Ye’d think it would bite, then, but it doesny. It’s warmer than a comforter at your neck, so it is.’
‘Where are we going, anyway?’ Tam stared about him in the drizzle, and craned to see over the fence into the dyer’s yard they were passing. ‘No the best part o the town, this, is it? A’ the stinking trades by the brig-end, a’ these wee houses; it’s no like Rottenrow.’
‘This way,’ said Alys with confidence, turning onto the path by the Ditch. She had made certain to get directions from the servant who carried out the empty crocks after dinner.
‘Is it that woman that saw the Deil rise up from the man’s house?’ said Jennet, brightening. ‘We’ll can sit in her kitchen and hear it all from her servants, eh, Tam?’
‘If she’ll see me,’ said Alys.
Mistress Buttergask was very happy to see Alys. She was a well-padded woman in a gown of good dark-green wool, hastily assumed over a striped kirtle to welcome her guest, with a very up-to-date black woollen headdress framing a round, sweet face. Her eyes were pale blue and rather vague, though Alys suspected they saw more than appeared.
Having rattled at the pin by the door of the neat stone-built house she had been directed to, Alys found the three of them warmly greeted and drawn in out of the rain, to the accompaniment of a stream of unceasing, welcoming chatter. Tam and Jennet were despatched to the kitchen along with two young maids and orders to bring in spiced wine and cakes, and herself led into a cosy, untidy solar where a small woolly dog had been yapping endlessly since she stepped into the house.
‘Be quiet, Roileag!’ said her hostess without effect. ‘That’s right kind in you, my dearie, to call on me in this weather, I was near deid wi boredom mysel and those two lassies driving me daft wi their prattle. Come in, come in, hae a seat. Gie me that plaidie, we’ll just shake the rain off it,’ she cracked it like a whip and droplets spat and fizzled on the brazier in the centre of the chamber. ‘Hang it here, it’ll be dry by the time you leave, you’ll
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