‘Perhaps Maister Cunningham can tell me. Is there to be a quest on the dead woman, magister? When will it be?’
‘Not before tomorrow,’ Gil said in the same language, ‘or even the day after. Is it a problem?’
‘No,’ said Januar unconvincingly.
‘And how’s your patient?’ Gil asked in Scots. The doctor bent his head.
‘Sinking,’ he said gravely. ‘I would estimate he has two days at most.’
‘Our Lady send him a quiet end,’ Gil said. ‘I suspected as much, when I saw him earlier.’ He looked hard at Januar. ‘I’d like to be able to bring him news o Mistress Gibb afore his end, if that’s possible-’
‘Surely nothing could ease his last hours better,’ offered Sir Simon. ‘Supposing it’s good news, a course.’
‘-so I need to ask more questions of the rest of the party here.’
‘I have told you all I can,’ said the doctor after a moment.
‘Na’the less, I’ve questions for you and all.’ Gil looked about. ‘Sir Simon, might I use your chamber? The other courtyard has too many windows and doors onto it.’
Seated in the paper-strewn chamber, a jug of ale from the kitchen at hand, Gil studied Chrysostom Januar and said in Scots,
‘You’re gey reluctant to be questioned, magister. It makes a man wonder what you might be hiding.’
‘We doctors dislike answering questions.’ The Latin was professionally inscrutable. ‘The patient never asks the ones to which we have an answer.’
‘I know how that feels,’ Gil said ambiguously. ‘Now, I’ve heard that the outer yett to the hostel, which is through the wall from the bed the two St Catherine’s servants sleep in, went three times in the night.’
‘Three times?’ The doctor’s bright blue gaze flicked up to his face, and away again. ‘How strange. One might expect twice, or four times, but three times suggests that someone left and did not return, or entered and did not leave.’
‘Or, I suppose, two people went out together and came back at different times,’ Gil said. ‘Would you maybe like to reconsider what you said, about nobody being out o the hostel in the night?’
‘None o those that slept in the men’s hostel left their beds,’ said the doctor in Scots after a moment. ‘I suppose Sir Edward’s daughters might ha slipped past Dame Ellen, though who they would go out to meet I canny imagine.’
‘Were you out of the hostel yourself?’
‘I had a patient to care for,’ said Januar, the blue gaze very direct this time.
‘Has any of the family ever mentioned a connection in Glasgow? Anyone Annie might turn to?’
‘No that I recall. But mind, magister, I have little conversation with the most part of the household. My patient, obviously, and his manservant, some of the outside servants when I have need of herbs from the garden, but otherwise the rest of them come little in my way.’
That isn’t what you said earlier, Gil reflected.
‘Mistress Gibb is abroad in Glasgow,’ he said, ‘barefoot in her shift. Are you not concerned for her?’
‘Aye,’ said the doctor, ‘concerned indeed, but I’m also concerned for my patient, and I’m a stranger here. You and the Provost’s men can seek Annie Gibb more effectively than I can.’
‘Not noticeably, this far,’ said Gil wryly. ‘Very well, maister, I’ll let you back to your patient. Have you any idea where John Lockhart might be?’
Chapter Six
Lockhart, despatched from the men’s hall, appeared less formally clad than he had been this morning, his shirt cuffs rolled up over the short sleeves of a leather doublet.
‘I’ve had the men out, searching the green out there,’ he said, waving a muscular arm. ‘What d’ye call it, the Stablegreen? And asking questions all up the street here as far’s the port ayont the Castle. I ken it’s no much, but it’s about all we can do, seeing we’re no familiar wi the burgh.’
And muddying the waters for anyone seeking Peg Simpson, Gil thought resignedly.
‘What have you been asking? Have you learned anything?’
‘Nothing useful,’ admitted Lockhart. ‘One or two folks saw a lassie on her own coming down Castle Street, but that was well afore midnight. There’s no woman been seen coming away from St Mungo’s kirkyard in the night, and those that were seen this morning were all kent faces, folk could put a name to them.’
‘Who saw the lassie on Castle Street?’
‘Oh, I couldny tell you. Just folk we asked, I never made a note. Why?’
‘Because that might ha been the lassie that’s lying dead in the chapel here,’ Gil said patiently. ‘I need to trace her, find where she went.’
‘That’s little enough o my concern,’ said Lockhart.
‘Oh, I think you’re wrong,’ said Gil very politely. ‘I’d say it’s likely that whoever loosed Annie Gibb from the Cross tied Peg Simpson to it afterwards, so if we learn more about the one, we’ll ken more about the other.’
‘Oh!’ Lockhart digested this. ‘I see what you mean. I’ll ask at the men, see if they recall who it was.’
‘Did you find anything else? What were you asking, anyway?’
‘No that I mind.’ The other man screwed up his face in an effort of recollection. ‘We were saying to folk, had they been abroad late yestreen, or early the day morn, or even looked out at door or window, and had they seen aught unfamiliar. And none had.’
It could be worse, Gil thought, and drew out his tablets.
‘Give me a note o where you asked, who you spoke to if you can recall it. No sense in me going over the same ground.’
Listing these took some time, but eventually Lockhart ran to a halt, blew out his cheeks and said,
‘I canny think where or who we spoke to more than that. Oh, maybe a couple houses round into, is it the Drygate? And we did tell folk, if they minded aught after we’d gone on, they should bring it here. So likely if there’s anything useful, it’ll turn up at the yett.’
‘Very likely,’ said Gil, concealing scepticism. He closed his tablets and put them back in his purse. ‘Let me know if you mind anything else that might help. And another thing you might tell me — was anyone out of the hostel in the night?’
‘Out of the hostel?’ Lockhart stared. ‘Why would- What, you think it was one of us? What would we do that for, after all the trouble it’s taken to get the lassie to St Mungo’s?’
‘Nevertheless, the hostel door went three times, I’m tellt. More than one person was out, and if they were nothing to do wi Annie or the dead woman they might still ha seen something to the purpose.’
‘Well, it wasny me, or any from the men’s hall,’ asserted Lockhart, ‘for I was right by the door, and I’d ha heard any leaving, and I’ll never believe that any o the lassies got past Dame Ellen, she takes right good care o my good-sisters and the rest o the household.’
‘Did all the servants sleep in the guest-halls?’ Gil asked. ‘None in the stables?’
‘Aye, we’re all in the two halls.’ Lockhart stared at him a little longer, then said, ‘No, I canny think that any o the men would ha got by me either. I heard the doctor moving about, and the like, he was to be my bedfellow but I think he never lay down all night, though he did at least change his clothes, he’s in his second-best gown the day, that red-and-yellow, no the gold. Looks like a papingo, does he no! I think he let the man Doddie get his rest after seeing to my good-faither on the journey. I’d ha noticed the hall door opening.’
Gil nodded.
‘Would you ken,’ he asked carefully, ‘whether Mistress Gibb had any friends or kindred about Glasgow? Anyone she could turn to? Someone must ha taken her in, if she’s not lying under a dyke somewhere.’
‘No that I ever heard mentioned,’ said the other man firmly. ‘But I’d little conversation wi the lassie hersel, y’ken, and never a lot wi her good-sisters. I’d not say my wife has spoken of it either.’
‘Or any who’ve asked Sir Edward for her, that might have gone this length to make certain of her and her lands?’
Lockhart stared at him, blew out his cheeks again, and said,