‘So was it Drummond?’ said Brown. He reached for his tablets. ‘I’ll send to Dunblane and have them summon him — ’
‘He’s in Balquhidder,’ Gil said. ‘No, my lord, I think it wasn’t Drummond. I’ll come to why not in a wee while.’
‘So what came to him?’ asked Brown. ‘Maister Cunningham, I ken you’re a busy man, and so am I. I’d be grateful if you’d get on and tell me what I’m needing to know.’
Gil nodded, but continued in the same measured tone.
‘I’ve asked Drummond what they spoke of, and he claims the secrecy of confession — that each of them confessed to the other. I’ve learned from one or two other sources that they spoke of betrayal and forgiveness.’
‘Betrayal!’ said Currie. ‘Who had he — ?’ The Bishop glanced at him, but said nothing.
‘Drummond,’ pursued Gil, ‘went on into Perth and likely had a bite to eat, found Doig and had a word wi him, then spent the rest of the evening in St John’s Kirk afore St Andrew. I’ve a good witness for that.’
Bishop Brown nodded his understanding, but Maister Gregor said, ‘Oh, no, surely no, if he’d just slew — ’
‘Hold your tongue, Rob,’ said Brown.
‘Now,’ said Gil carefully, ‘Stirling had been accompanied on his errand. One of the household servants had gone with him.’
‘Very proper,’ said Brown, ‘but if that’s so, why did the man no come forward after, when Jaikie never returned home? Or is that — ?’ He turned an appalled gaze on his steward. ‘Wat, has one o our men — ?’
‘I’d vouch for all of them, my lord,’ said Currie.
‘He’s made his confession,’ said Gil ambiguously. ‘It seems Stirling sent him back to the house, saying he’d walk on the Ditchlands for a space.’
‘You mean you’ve spoke wi him? Who is it?’ demanded Currie.
‘A man called Mitchel MacGregor,’ Gil replied.
‘Mitchel?’ exclaimed Currie, with a faint echo which must have been Maister Gregor. ‘Christ preserve us, what’s he done?’
‘I thought he was in Dunkeld,’ said Brown.
‘He was,’ agreed Gil. ‘He is now in the care of the Blackfriars.’
‘Oh, what a terrible thing! Will Wat send to the Black-friars, my lord,’ asked Maister Gregor, ‘and get him fetched here? Or will you go out to question him yoursel maybe?’
‘Go on, Maister Cunningham,’ said the Bishop rather grimly, ignoring this.
‘Mitchel returned here,’ said Gil, ‘and was sent out again with a message for Stirling, bidding him go to the dog-breeder and ask her for some of her soap against fleas.’
‘Fleas!’ exclaimed Currie. ‘The wee dog’s never had fleas!’
‘And who sent him this errand?’ asked Bishop Brown.
‘He seemed very clear,’ Gil said with care, ‘that it was an errand for yourself, my lord.’ Brown shook his head. ‘So Stirling went to the Doigs’ yard, with the man Mitchel, and found Mistress Doig from home walking the dogs.’
‘Aye, they’ll need to be exercised,’ agreed Maister Gregor. ‘They get melancholy if they don’t get exercised.’
‘Rob, hold your tongue,’ said Brown again. ‘Wat, where are you away to, man?’
‘I’ll just send a couple men out to the Blackfriars,’ suggested Currie from the door, ‘the way Maister Gregor says, and they can — ’
‘We’ll hear Maister Cunningham out,’ said his master, ‘and then I’ll determine what’s to be done. Stay here and close that door. Come on, Maister Cunningham, let’s get this done wi.’
‘Mitchel says they waited in the yard,’ Gil continued, ‘talking to the dogs or the like, for a wee bit, and then Maister Stirling fell down dead.’
Three shocked faces stared at him.
‘But he’d been shot wi a crossbow bolt,’ said the Bishop, recovering first. ‘Was it no Mitchel that shot him?’
‘He swore it was not,’ Gil said. ‘He said he never saw who loosed the bolt.’ And that’s entirely hearsay, he thought, and would never stand as evidence at law, but it serves my purpose.
‘You’re fairly taking your time,’ said the Bishop irritably. ‘I suppose you’re making it clear, man, but we’ve still the two questions. Who killed Jaikie, and how did he get into the tanpit? Was it Andrew Cornton right enough? I’d thought it wasny, but — ’
‘Maister Cornton spent the entire evening in his own house,’ said Gil. ‘They were moving furniture. His maidservant will swear to it.’
‘Aye, but surely a man’s own household will swear for him — ’ began Maister Gregor.
‘There’s one of my household done me a very ill turn,’ said Brown grimly. ‘Go on, maister. Who was it, then, if it wasny Cornton?’
‘I want to check something first,’ said Gil. He bent and drew the kist towards him, startling Jerome as it rumbled across the floorboards. ‘There was a crossbow in this kist when we checked it before, you mind that, Maister Currie?’
‘Aye, there was, and a good one,’ agreed Currie. ‘It’s right on the top, next his razors.’ He came forward and helped Gil to unfasten the strap and open the lid. ‘You see, it’s well kept, well oiled — ’
Gil pushed the pup away, lifted the crossbow and drew it out of its linen bag. The weapon was, as Currie said, a good one, and well cared for. He turned it over, admiring the finish and shaping of stock and crosspiece. Not an ounce of spare timber, he judged.
‘An arbalest!’ exclaimed the Bishop. ‘I never knew Jaikie had an arbalest.’
‘Nor did I, my lord,’ said Maister Gregor.
‘Our Lady save you, my lord, it’s no an arbalest,’ said Currie over the old man’s remark. ‘You’d never get an arbalest into thon wee kist. It’s a crossbow, just.’
‘It’s a crossbow,’ agreed Gil. ‘Not my weapon, but my brother Edward was skilled with the crossbow.’ He held it up, sighting along the stock, then passed it to Currie, whose hands closed on it covetously. ‘It’s a bonnie thing, but it’s unusable.’
‘Unusable?’ said Currie sharply, staring at him. ‘How’s it unusable?’
‘There’s no means of bracing it.’ Gil gestured at Maister Gregor’s inventory lying in the open lid of the kist. ‘There should be a belt-hook, or a goat’s foot, or the like.’
‘I thought that,’ remarked Maister Gregor proudly.
Seeing the Bishop’s blank look, Gil explained, ‘It’s the means of bracing the bow so it can be loosed, my lord. The arblaster sets his foot in yon stirrup at the nose of the bow,’ he pointed, and Currie raised the weapon, which he was still cradling. ‘Then he attaches something to the cord, and straightens up, and that draws the cord and lodges it there — ’ He pointed to the nut that held the cord braced till the bow was loosed, and the Bishop peered closer and looked away again, shuddering.
‘It’s an unchristian weapon,’ he declared. ‘So you’re saying Jaikie couldna loose this?’
‘Nobody could loose it,’ Gil said, ‘because nobody could brace it.’
‘I thought that too, you ken,’ repeated Maister Gregor. Everyone else turned to him, and he ducked his head and bleated in faint dismay at the attention. ‘When I put all Jaikie’s gear by,’ he said almost pleadingly. ‘I saw there was no means to brace the cord, and I saw there was no bolts to it and all.’
‘So why is it in his kist, if he couldny use it?’ demanded the Bishop.
‘I think it isn’t his. I think someone hid it among his gear,’ said Gil. Brown met his eye across the chamber, but was silent. ‘Maybe in haste, so that he forgot to lodge the belt-hook and the bolts there too.’
‘What use would that be?’ wondered Maister Gregor. ‘He could never use it, whoever it belongs to, while it was in Jaikie’s kist.’
‘Maister Gregor,’ said Gil. The old man looked at him, still frowning in puzzlement. ‘Did you tell me you had walked in the garden that evening, the evening Maister Stirling died?’
‘I did, I did that, though a course,’ he qualified, ‘I never knew Jaikie was dead then.’ He crossed himself and murmured something. Gil waited till he finished, then went on:
‘I think you said my lord was there too, with Jerome.’ The chaplain nodded. ‘Do you recall that, my lord?’