‘I wish to marry you,’ he said earnestly, ‘more than
anything else I have ever had the opportunity to do. I have
never felt like this about anybody before. I think I must
have loved you from the moment you spoke to me on that
stair by the Tolbooth.’
‘I too,’ she said. ‘From that moment.’
‘Alys,’ he said. He sat down, and somehow she was in
his arms.
‘Gilbert.’
Her mouth, innocent and eager, tasted of honey under
his.
When the mason interrupted them he swore they had had
half an hour.
‘And Sempill is here, with his entire household,
I believe,’ he said cheerfully, ‘becoming more thunderous
by the breath, and the harper is sitting like King David on
a trumeau ignoring everything while his sister mutters
spells at his side.’
‘A merry meeting,’ Gil said. Alys was putting her hair
back over her shoulders, so that it hung down her back
below the velvet fall of her hood. He dragged his eyes
from the sight, and said more attentively, ‘Sempill’s entire
household, you say? Who is there?’
‘Sempill and his cousin, Campbell and his sister, the
other gallowglass, the companion - why she has come
I know not, unless as some sort of witness -‘
‘Right.’ Gil drew Alys to her feet. ‘Go with your father,
sweetheart. I must get a word with Maggie first, then I will
come up.’
Her hand lingered in his, and. he squeezed it before he
let go, drawing a quick half smile in answer, but all she
said was, ‘Is my hood still straight?’
‘Square and level,’ her father assured her. She took his
arm and moved towards the house, her black silk skirts
caught up in her other hand. Gil turned towards the archway to the kitchen-yard, where the mason’s man Luke was
drinking ale with the Official’s Tam.
Maggie’s face fell when he entered the kitchen alone.
‘And am I no to get a sight of your bride?’ she
demanded.
‘And she’s well worth seeing. You’ll have the care of her
later this evening, Maggie,’ Gil promised, ‘for I think
things may get a little fractious upstairs. For now, I have an
errand for you. And you, Neil, I want you to stay here
handy until I call you.’
The gallowglass, seated by the fire with a leather beaker
of the good ale, merely grinned, but Maggie scowled and
objected, ‘I’ve to take wine up for the company.’
‘I will do that. You get over the road and get Marriott
Kennedy to help you search for that cross you never
found.’
Her gaze sharpened on his face.
‘Uhuh,’ she said, nodding slowly. ‘And if we find it?’
‘Bring it to me, quiet-like.’
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, and went to the outside door where
her plaid hung on a nail.
‘Maggie, you’re a wonderful woman.’
Her face softened.
‘You’re a bad laddie,’ she said, and stumped out of the
house.
Gil reached the hall with the great jug of claret wine and
plate of jumbles just as John Sempill leapt to his feet
snarling, ‘If he’s no to compear we’ll just have to manage
without him. Oh, there you are! Where the devil have you
been? Vespers must be near over by now.’
‘I was concerned with another matter,’ said Gil, setting
wine and cakes down on the carpet on his uncle’s table.
‘Have some wine and come over to the window and
instruct me. Maggie has gone out, sir. Will you pour, or
shall I fetch Tam up?’
Sempill, a cup of good wine in his hand, seemed reluctant to come to the point. Gil simply stood, watching him,
while he muttered half-sentences. At length he came out
with, ‘Oh, to the devil with it! If he’ll let me name the bairn
mine -‘
‘By “he” you mean the harper?’
‘Who else, gomerel? If he’ll let me name it mine, without
disputing it, then I’ll settle Bess’s own lands on the brat
immediately, and treat it as my sole heir unless I get
another later.’
‘That seems a fair offer,’ said Gil. ‘Who gets the rents?
What about your conjunct fee?’
‘That’s mine, for what good it does me,’ said Sempill
quickly. ‘I suppose the bairn or its tutor gets the profit from
the land, which willny keep a flea, I can tell you, so that’s
between the harper and the nourice.’
‘You do not contemplate rearing the child yourself,’ said
Gil expressionlessly.
‘I do not. You think I want another man’s get round my
feet?’
Gil looked across the room at the assembled company.
On one bench was Ealasaidh, dandling the swaddled baby,
while Alys waved the coral for the small hands to grasp at
and the harper and the mason sat on either side like
heraldic supporters. As he looked, the mason broke out in
a volley of sneezes. On the other bench, in a row, one
Sempill and two Campbells drank the Official’s wine in a
miasma of conflicting perfumes and discussed, apparently,
the marriage of a cousin of Philip Sempill’s wife.
Euphemia cast occasional covert glances at the rope of
pearls which glimmered against Alys’s black Lyons brocade. In the background, Nancy on one side, Neil’s brother
Euan and the stout Mistress Murray on the other, waited in
silence. Canon Cunningham was sitting in his great chair,
watching the infant, who was now grabbing at the fall of
Alys’s hood.
‘Do you wish to stipulate who is to rear the child?’ Gil
asked.
‘I’ll let the harper decide that,’ said John Sempill generously. ‘He’ll likely be more confident leaving it with
someone else. Of course if it’s someone he chooses, he can
settle the bills,’ he added.
‘That’s clear enough.’ Gil drank off the rest of his wine
and gestured towards the makeshift court. ‘Is there anything else you wish to tell me? Shall we proceed?’
Sempill nodded, and walked heavily over to sit beside
his mistress. She had decided to grace the occasion in
tawny satin faced with citron-coloured velvet, which
clashed with Sempill’s cherry doublet and gown and
turned her brother’s green velvet sour. A large jewel of
topazes and pearls dangled from a rope chain on her
bosom, and more pearls edged her French hood. Finding
Gil watching her, she favoured him with a brilliant smile,
showing her little white teeth, and tucked her arm possessively through Sempill’s. Gil was reminded sharply
of his dream. Well, Hughie is certainly gone now, he
thought.
Gil took up position at the end of the bench, beside his
client, and nodded to his uncle. He should, he realized,
have been wearing a gown. The green cloth gown of a
forespeaker, buttoned to the neck like his grandfather’s
houppelande, would have been favourite, but failing that
his decent black one, which he must have left in the
garden, would have lent dignity. Too late now, he thought,
hitching his thumbs in the armholes of his doublet. Perhaps I can imagine one. Or full armour, in which to slay
dragons.
‘Friends,’ said David Cunningham, rapping on the table
with his wine-cup. ‘We are met to consider a proposal
made by John Sempill of Muirend, concerning a bairn born
to his lawful wife when she had been living with another
man, namely Angus Mclan of Ardnamurchan, a harper -‘
Ealasaidh stirred and muttered something. ‘Who speaks
for John Sempill?’
‘I speak for John Sempill.’ Gil bowed.
‘And who speaks for Angus Mclan?’
‘I am Aenghus mac Iain. I speak for mine own self.’ The
harper rose, clasping his smallclarsach.
‘And I speak on behalf of the bairn. Is this the child?
What is his name?’
Ealasaidh, rising, said clearly, ‘This is the boy that was
born to Bess Stewart two days before Michaelmas last. His
name is lain, that is John in the Scots tongue. Yonder is his
nursemaid, who will confirm what I say.’
Nancy, scarlet-faced, muttered something which might
have been confirmation.
‘Very well,’ said David Cunningham, ‘let us begin. What
is John Sempill’s proposal for this bairn?’
‘John Sempill of Muirend proposes,’ said Gil, from where
he stood by Sempill’s side, ‘to recognize the bairn as his
heir. If he does so, he will settle its mother’s property on
it -‘At his elbow, John Sempill glared defiantly and pointlessly at the harper. Beyond him, Euphemia suddenly
turned to look at her brother, who did not look at her. ‘so
that it may be supported by the income deriving. The bairn
will be fostered with someone agreeable to Angus Mclan,
and the said Angus will be responsible for any extra disbursements not covered by the income.’
‘Ah!’ said Ealasaidh. The harper made a hushing movement with the hand nearest her.
‘It is a good proposal,’ he said. ‘It is a fair proposal.’
Euphemia stirred again, and her brother’s elbow moved
sharply. ‘There is things I would wish to have made clear.
I may choose the fostering, but who chooses the tutor? Is
it the same person? Does Maister Sempill wish to order the
boy’s education, or shall we give that to his tutor? And
how if Maister Sempill changes his mind, one way or the
other? Is the boy to be wrenched from a familiar fosterhome to be reared by the man who cut off his mother’s
ear?’ Euphemia giggled, and her brother’s elbow jerked
again. ‘Is his foster-father to find himself unable to feed a
growing child because-the- income has been diverted?’
The old boy can talk, thought Gil. Euphemia and her
brother were glaring at one another.
‘I speak for the bairn,’ said David Cunningham. ‘I stipulate that once the fosterage is agreed, John Sempill and Angus Mclan both swear to abide by the agreement. Likewise once a tutor is agreed both swear to abide by that
agreement. Both these oaths to be properly notarized and
recorded. And when the property is transferred it is
entered into the title that John Sempill renounces any claim
to it.’
Boxed in, thought Gil. He bent to say quietly to his
client, ‘Well? Do we agree?’
‘Aye, we agree,’ snarled Sempill. ‘I need this settled.’
‘We agree,’ said Gil.
‘I am agreed also,’ said the harper. Euphemia was now
sitting rigidly erect, staring over Ealasaidh’s head. The
lines between her insignificant nose and pretty mouth
were suddenly quite noticeable.
‘Then let us consider,’ continued Canon Cunningham,
‘where the bairn is to be fostered. There is an offer from
Maister Peter Mason, master builder of this burgh, to foster
him in his household.’
‘He’s offered?’ said John Sempill suspiciously. ‘Why?
Why would he do that?’
‘I have taken a liking to the boy,’ said Maistre Pierre, his
accent very marked. ‘Regard it as an act of charity, if you
will.’
Alys smiled at her father. Sempill breathed hard down
his nose, and the Official, looking from one side to the
other of his makeshift court, said, ‘What do you say to this
offer, Maister Mclan?’
‘It is a generous offer,’ said the harper, ‘for that I know
well it was made before the matter of the boy’s income
was mentioned.’ At Gil’s side John Sempill cursed under
his breath. ‘I am agreeable. I will abide by this arrangement.’
‘And I,’ said Sempill harshly.
‘And I propose,’ said the harper, before David Cunningham could speak again, ‘that Maister Gilbert Cunningham
be named the boy’s tutor, to stand in loco parentis until he
be fourteen years old and to. see after his fostering and
rearing and his schooling and leaming.’
There was a pause, in which the baby made a remark.
Ealasaidh answered him in soft Gaelic.
Well, thought Gil. And where did Mclan learn Latin
tags?
‘I hardly think I am the best -‘ he began.
‘On the contrary,’ said the harper. ‘You are a man of
learning, well connected in this diocese, well able to judge
if the boy is being managed as he ought. I am greatly in
favour of it.’
‘Yes,’ said John Sempill happily. ‘I agree.’
Gil, detecting the note of revenge, kept his face blank.
‘Then we are past the first hurdle,’ said the Official, ‘for
both these suggestions are agreeable to me as the bairn’s
adviser. The next point to consider is the property which
John Sempill will settle on the bairn, renouncing any
claims which might proceed from his marriage to the
bairn’s mother.’
‘Aye,’ said John Sempill sourly. ‘Only I don’t have the
papers for it, since Bess took them when she left my house.
Not that it’ll do ye much good,’ he added.
‘It was not your house,’ said Ealasaidh, not quite under
her breath. The mason sneezed.
‘I have seen the papers she had,’ said Gil. He produced
the inventory and tilted Alys’s neat writing to the daylight.
‘There is a house in Rothesay and two farms at Ettrick. The
house I believe is let to a kinsman of the Provost of
Rothesay’s wife, who is not keeping it in repair. The farms
are also let. The rent on the house is five merks, a hen and
a creel of peats yearly, the rent on the farms is five merks
and a mart cow, with a half-merk mail yearly. Each,’ he
added.
‘Eh?’ said John Sempill. ‘Each? Do you mean Bess was
getting that much rent all this time?’
‘Surely not,’ said Euphemia in her high, pretty voice.
‘That would be fifteen merks a year, let alone the - ow!’
Her brother put both hands on his knees and remained
silent. Philip Sempill said, ‘You never had that amount
from the land in Bute, John!’
‘No, I never,’ agreed John Sempill flatly.
‘Whose responsibility is it to collect the rents?’ asked the
Official.
‘Sempill’s,’ said James Campbell.
‘They go to James,’ said Sempill in the same moment.
Their challenging stares met. ‘Except the rents that went to
Bess, to buy harp keys with,’ he added in a suggestive
snarl.
Euphemia giggled again. Her brother’s green velvet
elbow moved sharply, and she showed her teeth at him.
The harper sat impassive.
‘Is it agreeable to Bess Stewart’s kin,’ asked the Official,
‘that these properties pass to her bairn, with arrangements
for the rent to be paid directly to his foster-parent?’
‘Her kin have nothing -‘ began Sempill.
‘It is not,’ said James Campbell of Glenstriven, as if he
had been waiting for this. ‘I am married to her sister
Mariota Stewart, and I submit that if John Sempill alienates
these properties they should be offered first to my wife.’