‘And I was to tell you,’ said Gil, ‘that the house is near dry. Doig said you should fetch in water.’
At his feet Davie Drummond jerked as if he had been stabbed. Robert said sharply, ‘You’ve spoken wi Doig? What was he saying?’
‘Nothing,’ said Gil. ‘Quite determinedly, nothing. But as I told him, it’s near as useful when he won’t speak as when he does.’
‘Aye,’ said Robert sourly. ‘My uncle tellt me no to get into conversation wi you.’
‘Did he really?’ said Alys in amusement, turning her head against his shoulder. ‘I’d have thought he would see what he was giving away.’
‘I suppose he didn’t consider it,’ Gil said lazily. ‘He seemed mostly concerned about young Drummond.’
They were lying against the pillows within the linen-hung bed in their chamber, close and reassuring. He had returned from the Kirkton to be informed by Lady Stewart that Alys still needed to rest and directed to make sure she did so. Rest was not what either of them needed most, but he had accepted the order with pleasure. Now, sated and comfortable, each certain the other was safe and hale, they were discussing what they had learned.
‘So he reports to Lord Montgomery, and gets word back,’ she said now, still speaking French. ‘And that since we got here. I suppose Lady Stewart corresponds with her cousin.’
‘It’s the likeliest route,’ he agreed. ‘And Davie knew Doig’s name. He also confirmed meeting Euan nan Tobar, poor creature, and seems to be making friends with Robert. Myself, I’d as soon befriend an adder on a rock, but I suppose the lad has his merits.’
‘You’re hardly impartial.’ She rubbed her cheek on his bare chest. ‘We must take care how we speak of this — Lady Stewart could be involved in whatever Robert is doing. And do you suppose she and Sir William know Doig is here?’
‘I don’t know that, but they’re well aware of him in the village. I wish you had been in Perth with me — I’ve missed talking things over like this. I missed you.’
‘And I have missed you. What brought you back here so prompt, Gil?’
‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘I woke before the dawn, and knew you needed me. We set out as soon as it was light. Not as vivid a summons as Andrew Drummond’s, but one I couldn’t ignore.’
‘I did need you,’ she said wonderingly, ‘and just at that time. I was so frightened, and the fire — and the old woman dying like that — and then the boy — it was such a night, Gil.’
‘It’s over, and you are safe, St Giles be thanked.’ He kissed the crown of her head. Her hair was silky under his lips; it smelled of an unfamiliar hairwash and, faintly, of smoke. ‘I owe him several candles.’
‘But how did you know? You were so far away — forty miles, Lady Stewart said.’
‘I don’t think the distance matters. Tell me about it again, sweetheart.’
She recounted the events of the night, shivering a little as she described the two deaths, steadfastly repeating the wild accusations the dead boy’s mother had flung at Davie Drummond.
‘The woman was in much the same state when she found me examining the boy,’ he said. ‘That wild flyting is very hard to withstand. But I suppose if they believed her, they’d have been down here before now burning the thatch off the kirk to get him out.’
‘I don’t think the family did. Believe her, I mean. Davie took fright, for that or — or some other reason, and ran.’ She was winding her fingers through the hairs on his chest. ‘But you found the boy’s skull was broken. Could that be what killed him? I thought none of the other injuries was mortal, or not instantly perhaps, but his mother insisted only she would wash his head, I could not examine it.’
‘I think the blow on the head and the damage from the beasts would be enough together, and I think he was deliberately set where I found the imprint of his body. He was certainly murdered by someone, poor little fellow, but the other daughter-in-law, Mòr is it? would hear nothing of the idea. She is fixed on the notion that the fairy folk have taken him back.’
‘Lady Stewart thought Sir William would question them all.’
‘He did,’ Gil said, recalling Sir William’s baffled expression as he crossed the yard to meet him, ‘but he got no more than we have between us, and less in some ways.’
‘She thought also Caterin might accuse Davie again when they all come down for the burial.’
‘Mm,’ he said. They lay in silence for a while; Gil was thinking deeply, and eventually realized from her level breathing that Alys had fallen asleep. He looked down at her face, feeling the familiar sensation as if some giant fist squeezed his entrails at the sight of her relaxed and secure in his embrace.
There were things he must do. Easing his arm reluctantly from under her shoulders he drew the covers up round her, slid off the bed and reached for his shirt. Sir William must be somewhere about the place.
Chapter Eleven
The Bailie of Balquhidder was seeing to his hawks, in a reprehensible leather doublet and stained hose which it was likely his lady did not know he was wearing. While he made much of a peregrine tiercel and inspected the bird’s barred feathers Gil sat on the falconer’s workbench at the end of the mews, amid the familiar smell of raw meat and bird-droppings, wax and leather, and gave him an account of his findings, first in Dunblane and then in Perth. Sir William listened carefully, and stood for some time after Gil finished, feeding the hawk with morsels of rabbit.
‘It seems to me,’ he said at length, ‘you’ve raised three separate quarries.’
‘I think so too,’ agreed Gil, ‘but one of them’s gone beyond my range.’
‘The three songmen?’ Sir William stroked the peregrine’s breast. ‘Aye, if we learn where those have got to, it’s a grace. But it does look as if Maister Secretary’s matter has naught to do wi them. Found in a tanpit, poor devil! What an end! Who is it that’s stealing voices, then? Will he take any more?’
‘I don’t know that,’ said Gil blandly, ‘but I’ve dropped a hint that I’m aware of it. I hope that might put an end to the business.’
‘Hmf,’ said Sir William. ‘And the secretary? A crossbow bolt through the neck, you said. Who shot him, have you worked that out?’
‘Not yet,’ said Gil. ‘I need to speak to Drummond’s lad, who’s here somewhere, and to this man of the Bishop’s household that was wi Stirling.’
‘Ask at Murdo for Drummond’s lad,’ said Sir William. ‘Likely he’s still about the place.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Gil. ‘Once I know how Stirling got into the tanpit I might be closer to finding out who put him there. I’ve still to give a full reckoning to Bishop Brown, and it’s possible he’ll have some news for me. They were crying a couple of questions round the town of Perth these two or three days, so I’ll go back as soon as I may. And I must go to Dunkeld.’
‘Dunkeld?’ Sir William turned to look at him, and the peregrine opened its wings and reared back, hissing at him. ‘Peace, peace, Mercury. What’s at Dunkeld?’
‘The third of the three friends is Precentor there.’
‘Hmf.’ Sir William soothed the bird, and it hunched itself indignantly. ‘Best take a couple more men wi you, in that case.’ He eased the hawk back on to its perch, transferred the leash, and moved on to another bird. ‘This is Eleanor. I gentled her myself, did I no, my bonnie girl,’ he stroked the gold-brown feathers, and Eleanor bent to nibble delicately at his finger, ‘from the egg. Why was Stirling killed, do you suppose? Is it connected wi the English treaty, or no?’
‘I’ve no notion yet. Maybe when we find who killed him we’ll find out why.’
‘Aye. Well, I suppose you’ve no had a week’s work on the business so far.’ Sir William looked down his long Stewart nose at Gil. ‘And what did you discern up at Dalriach? Did Andrew Drummond tell you anything worthwhile on the road up there?’
‘He told me a little,’ said Gil cautiously. ‘He claims Stirling made his confession to him.’ Sir William snorted. ‘I agree, it seems unlikely, but it prevents questions.’