‘Aye, well, we were in our cousin’s house all the evening, getting the news o Glasgow and telling him the news o Ayrshire.’
‘Together?’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Austin, nodding.
‘So what about this corp?’ demanded Henry. ‘Are we to look at her, or no?’
‘One thing,’ said Austin, ‘she’ll ha stayed this side of the Girth Burn.’
‘Who will? What are you on about now?’ demanded Henry, turning to follow Gil to the outer courtyard.
‘Annie, a course. She’ll ha stayed up here atween the two burns.’
‘How d’you make that out?’
‘They canny cross running water. Everybody kens that.’
‘That’s witches, bawheid! Annie’s no witch, just melancholy.’
There was a handful of local people in the chapel, arguing briskly about who the dead woman might be, their speculations hindered only slightly by the fact that none of them could recognise her. The bier was now attended by two of the hostel servants; a man in blue livery stood at its head and a woman in a blue gown and grey cloak knelt at the foot, her beads sliding through her fingers. Near them, leaning negligently against the chancel-screen, was Lowrie. His attention was on the arguing townsfolk, but when Gil stood aside to let the Muir brothers enter first, he straightened up, watching them approach. Gil, watching his assistant in turn, was warned by the way the younger man’s expression went blank, a fraction before Austin Muir stopped in his tracks and dropped his hat to seize his brother’s arm.
‘Henry! Is that no- Is it no-’ He swallowed, and his brother turned a furious face on him, as the group of neighbours paused to watch. ‘Aye, it is, surely!’
‘It’s no Annie, bawheid, they’ve tellt us that,’ Henry said savagely. ‘Hold your tongue, and let the rest o us decide what’s to do!’
‘No, it’s no Annie, I ken that,’ argued Austin, ‘it’s surely-It’s that- It’s awfy like-’ He took in his brother’s expression and fell silent. Henry freed himself and stepped forward to the bier, bending to look at the dead girl’s damaged face, then straightened up.
‘Never saw her afore,’ he said. ‘I’ve never a notion who she might be.’
‘And you, Austin?’ said Gil deliberately. Austin jumped, looked over his shoulder at Gil, and back at his brother.
‘I, I–I never saw her neither,’ he averred.
‘Likely she’s some hoor from away down the town, from the Gallowgate or the like,’ said Henry easily, crossing himself as he moved to join Gil. ‘Poor soul.’
‘That’s a good thought, maister,’ said one of the neighbours, a stout woman with a basket full of purchases from the market. ‘You never ken what they folks down the Gallowgate will get up to, beating lassies to death would be nothing to them.’
This met with agreement from two more of the group, but one man shook his head and the other woman present said,
‘It’s right far to carry her once she’s deid, Agnes, to bring her up here to St Mungo’s. Did the bellman no say she was bound to the Cross? Why would anyone do that?’
‘So they wouldny get the blame for it away down there, a course!’ said the basket-carrier triumphantly.
‘There, you see,’ said Henry to Gil. ‘Make sure the bellman cries her down the town, or better still carry her down there and show her, the most of them’ll not trouble themselves to come up here for a dead lassie. Likely someone down the Gallowgate’ll name her for you.’
‘But how would they do that, Henry?’ asked his brother in perplexity, ‘when they-’
‘Will you be quiet, bawheid that you are?’ demanded Henry. ‘Hold your wheesht and let those of us that can think do the thinking.’
‘No, I never met them before this,’ said Lowrie, accepting a share of bread and cheese with gratitude. ‘I doubt Austin can sign his name, let along con his books, and Henry doesny seem like a college man. Certainly he’s no Glasgow man.’
‘He never came to visit your friend Ninian when you were at the College? Ninian Boyd, I mean,’ Gil expanded, without much hope. Lowrie shook his head.
They had repaired to the inner courtyard; Gil wanted to consider what he had learned so far, and it seemed a good moment to consume Kittock’s dole. Now he continued, ‘I reckon they’d be some kind of kin of Ninian’s, third or fourth cousins maybe, closer than they are to me. The two of them are lodged wi Canon Muir on Rottenrow, who Dame Ellen said was another kinsman. I need to get a word wi him, confirm that, confirm what they were doing last night. I’m not at all convinced they gave us the whole truth.’
‘Austin knew the corp, or thought he did,’ Lowrie agreed, ‘he was struck wi horror at first sight. It could have been her bruises, but it seemed to me he recognised her.’
‘Henry was very quick to silence him.’
‘I liked his suggestion of the Gallowgate.’
‘A nice piece of misdirection. It could even be true.’
Gil extracted the cheese from between the remainder of his bread and ate it. Lowrie was watching him intently and chewing hard, and after a moment swallowed and said,
‘I had another word wi the servants here, both the guests’ household and the hostel folk, now it’s known Annie’s missing.’ Gil made an interrogatory noise. ‘The two that guarded her kept a good eye on her till about midnight, it seems, because there were folk about till that hour. The man Sawney says she spoke to him then, asking him to set her free, addressed him by name, so I think we can assume she was there and unharmed at that point. I’ve a note of who slept where here in the hostel, which should help if we’re checking movements, and that pair in the chapel the now, Will and Bessie, are man and wife and dwell by the gate here, and they mentioned there were comings and goings in the night.’
‘Oh, there were, were there?’ Gil gave his crusts to the expectant dog and took another hunk of bread from the linen wrapping. ‘Did they name anyone?’
‘No, it seems the door was left unbarred a-purpose, in case they brought Mistress Gibb back earlier than the dawn. The woman, Bessie, heard the door go an hour or so afore midnight, so she reckoned, and looked out assuming she’d be needed to help Annie back to the women’s hall, but the courtyard was empty.’ Lowrie dug in his purse for his tablets, found the right leaf and scrutinised his notes. ‘And twice more after that she heard footsteps and the door closing, and voices in the courtyard. Seems it shuts wi a thump that shakes their bed, no matter the care that’s taken. She never looked out the later times, she said she took it if she was needed they’d bang on the lodging door. Likely she was too warm to move by then,’ he added in faint amusement.
‘Three times the door went,’ said Gil thoughtfully.
‘Three times after they were in bed,’ Lowrie qualified.
‘A good point. And yet none of the folk we’ve spoken to referred to being out of the hostel. You’d think they might have mentioned it.’ He considered the final portion of bread and cheese, then broke it carefully into two large pieces and a small one, handed the small one to the dog and gestured to Lowrie to take one of the others. ‘Did her man hear anything?’
‘He says he heard the door go but never roused enough to take note of how often.’
‘Hm,’ said Gil. ‘Did you get anything from the others? From the Shaw servants?’
‘No more than I’ve told you already. So do we need to start asking who was about in the night?’
‘That can wait.’ Gil brushed breadcrumbs from his person, gathered up the linen cloth and shook it out. Several chaffinches flew down onto the cobbles, keeping a wary distance from the dog, but flew up again when the two men rose. ‘I want to get another look at the Cross, and the ground about it, if Andro and his men haveny trampled it into dust. The amount of movement there must have been, they’d surely have left some trace.’
‘Who?’ Lowrie followed him across the outer yard. ‘Whose traces are you thinking we might find?’
Gil nodded to Sir Simon at his chamber window and strode on, out of the gate, before finally saying,
‘At the very least, Annie herself and whoever released her from her bonds. Depending on what came after that, it could be as many as five or six people we’re trying to track.’