‘Aye, neebor. Is that you that’s looking for Tam Murray?’ demanded the taller, as soon as he was within earshot. ‘Have you any word of him at all?’
‘None,’ said Gil frankly. ‘I was hoping you could tell me more. Where did you see him last? I think you parted from him somewhere on the round before you reached Forth.’
‘Oh, long afore that,’ said the other man. ‘Lanark. We left him in Lanark.’
‘Lanark?’ repeated Gil incredulously. ‘But — Do you mean he left it to you to collect the whole of the fees?’
‘Oh, aye,’ agreed the taller brother. ‘He mostly does. Meets us outside Forth town.’
‘Sweet St Giles!’ He looked from one man to the other. ‘I take it Mistress Weir doesny know of it.’
‘What do you think?’ said the taller man, the light catching his teeth as he grinned.
‘So where does he go? Does he simply stay in Lanark drinking?’ Gil looked about at the twilight. ‘Will we sit down and you can tell me what you know about the man.’
There were three stumps of driftwood drawn up in the mouth of one of the sheds, an unlit wood fire set and the ashes of many more fires scattered on the shore around them. Seated here, the Patersons answered his questions, slowly at first, then more confidently. The taller brother, it seemed, was Jock, and it had been his idea originally to take up Sir Thomas Bartholomew’s suggestion and seek work in Lanarkshire.
‘Lanark folks is all right,’ he said dismissively ‘A bit soft, especial in the head, but they’re kind enough.’
‘Lanark lassies is more than all right,’ observed Tam, smacking his lips.
His brother kicked his ankle. ‘Och, see you? Anyway, we get there, maister, and find Tammas Murray, that was at the sang-schule in Kincardine wi’ our brother Davy, set in authority in the place. He was right pleased to see us and all.’
‘Took us on like a maid embracing her lover, so he did,’ supplied Tam. ‘Treated us well, too. Choice of lodging, bed to oursels, laddie to carry our gear whenever we was working, fetch our sister to mind the house — though that never lasted, she up and wedded Attie Logan.’
‘And we hadny been in our place six month afore he sends for us one morning and he says to us, private like — ’
‘I’ve a proposition, he says.’
‘Aye, a proposition. D’ye think, he says, ye can find your way about Lanarkshire and back here with a bag of coin.’
‘What’s in it for us, says I.’
‘And he says, ye’ll get paid extra for it if ye can keep your mouths shut, says he. So we agreed a fee, and he sets out wi’ us, and in Lanark he leaves us wi’ a list of where we’ve to call, and the names of who to ask for at each place, and what’s owed, and we do the whole round and then meet him in Forth.’
‘And we’ve done it every quarter since,’ contributed Tam.
‘And no a word to anyone, till now.’
‘Well!’ said Gil. ‘And where was Murray while you were collecting the coin?’
‘Now that,’ said Jock with deep regret, ‘we’ve never jaloused. It’s aye the same place he leaves us, in the midst of Lanark.’
‘We took it he was wi’ a lassie, but we never found out where.’
‘A pity, that, seeing what like his wife is at the Pow Burn,’ said Jock thoughtfully. ‘If I’d that Joanna in my bed, I’d no feel the need to keep another in secret.’
‘No accounting for tastes.’
‘You never asked him?’
‘We did not. He’s no one for idle chat, Tammas Murray.’
‘And how long has this been going on?’
The brothers looked at one another in the firelight.
‘Two year?’ said Tam.
‘No as long,’ said Jock. ‘It was after Matt Crombie died, no the first quarter’s reckoning but the next. A year past at Martinmas, I’d say.’
‘A year and a half, then. Since before he wedded Joanna,’ Gil said.
‘Aye, but it went on after.’
‘But where does he go? Do you think he stays in the town, or does he venture out elsewhere?’ Gil asked.
‘I followed him one time,’ said Tam, ‘but I lost him afore the top of the town. It was market-day, ye see, and he just vanished in the crowd. Must ha’ jouked up a vennel.’
‘What, you lost a red-haired man?’ said Gil in faint disbelief.
‘Aye, red-haired, wi’ a great blue bonnet on like a’body else’s.’
‘So how come you’re asking for him, maister?’ asked Jock. Tam, looking along the row of salt-pans, rose and went to poke at one of the fires.
‘The men from Thorn found a red-haired corp in their peat-cutting,’ Gil explained.
‘A corp? St Peter’s bones, what’s that doing in a peat-cutting?’ exclaimed Jock. ‘Is it Tammas Murray, then? Is he dead right enough, and you never said?’
‘It isn’t Murray,’ Gil said carefully, ‘but I’m beginning to fear he’s dead right enough, for he’s never turned up yet. David Fleming was convinced that the corp was Murray, and that Mistress Lithgo had set it there by means of witchcraft.’
‘Beattie? No Beattie!’ said Tam, sitting back on his heels, the fire-glow lighting his face. ‘She’d no do a thing like that. Davy Fleming’s no done her any harm, has he?’
‘Phemie called out the day shift and rescued her.’
‘She would,’ said Jock, grinning in the firelight. ‘That’s a fechtie lass, that Phemie. And did that sort it? He’s no laid charges against Beattie, has he? He’ll have the whole of the colliers to reckon wi’ if he has.’
‘He’ll have Adam Crombie to reckon with,’ Gil said. ‘The young man came home yestreen, and was for Cauldhope this morning to confront Fleming.’
‘Oh, well. Raffie should sort him. But where has Tammas Murray got to?’ said Tam Paterson. He rose and returned to his log, bringing a lighted stick with him which he set to the fire at their feet. ‘You say he’s no turned up at the Pow Burn either, maister? That’s … that’s …’ He paused, reckoning on the free hand. Flames sprang in the tinder under the driftwood. ‘Aye, five week or more since we parted from him in Lanark town.’
‘We’ve been right concerned,’ said his brother, ‘but you’ll see it’s no just a matter of going back to the Pow Burn to ask for him. The auld wife would ha’ questions for us, and the first would be, Where did he part from you?’
‘And where does he part from you?’ Gil asked. ‘Can you recall anything that might help me track him down?’
‘The Nicholas,’ said Jock promptly. ‘Hard by St Nicholas’ kirk. Juggling Nick’s they call it.’ Gil nodded, familiar with the inn and its sign where the mitred saint stared up the market-place in half-length, his three purses floating round his halo. Its landlady was feared by drinkers in four parishes. ‘We aye light down there for a drink after we’ve rid in from Jerviswood, he collects from the two accounts we’ve got in the town, and then he takes off.’
‘On foot?’
‘On foot.’
‘So not far, then.’ Gil considered. ‘Somewhere in the town, or not far outside it. If it was in the town, I’d ha’ thought he’d ha’ turned up by now, the word about the corp in the peat-cutting should be all over the Middle Ward. Does he leave his horse at Juggling Nick’s?’
‘Aye, that’s right. Then he rides up to meet us when we get to Forth. He’ll get a week wi’ his woman, I suppose,’ reckoned Jock. ‘She must be a patient soul, to put up wi’ that. A week wi’ your man once a quarter doesny seem like a lot.’
‘Joanna Brownlie might think it was enough,’ said Tam darkly.
‘Did he never let anything slip, then? Nothing that might give us a direction?’
The two men considered, and Jock shook his head.
‘He’d a sprig of yew in his hat one time he joined us,’ offered Tam. ‘Tucked behind his St Andrew. Had berries on it.’
‘There’s yew grows everywhere,’ objected his brother. ‘That’s no use.’
‘No, but it might mean the lassie dwells by a yew tree.’
‘It’s still no use, you daft lump.’