Time and Tide (40 page)

‘He does not speak of them,' said Hew.

‘Nonetheless, he has seen them. He will not settle here.'

Hew called Robert out, and took him privately to walk in Meg's walled garden, where the branches now were bare. ‘Has the factor offered you a piece of land?'

The soldier nodded, ‘Aye.'

‘And a house?'

‘He has offered me a house,' Robert answered glumly.

‘And yet, it seems, they do not suit?'

‘The land and house are fine. Tis only that . . . it is the wintertime, and there is nothing left to do upon the land. And it is that . . . you do not need me here. I had not thought the life would be . . . bare fields and books, and playing chess.'

‘That is your retirement, Robert,' Hew said with a smile. ‘I think, perhaps, you are not ready for it yet.'

‘I have made a mistake, sir. I am not ready quite, for giving up the soldiering. Will you not release me from my bonds?' Robert asked.

‘What bonds? You are a free man, Robert, to go where you will. This land I give you as a gift. Tis not meant as a prison. Tis possible
that one day still you may be glad of it, and it will then be here for you; go then, where you will. Yet I would have you do a service for me, one last thing, before you go. It is a lot to ask. I wish you to return to Ghent.'

‘To Ghent!' Robert groaned. ‘From where we have just come!'

In spite of his objections, he did not seem too displeased.

‘I beg you, do not question it. I want you to take Maude.'

‘Maude Benet, from the inn?'

Hew nodded, ‘And her little lass. I cannot tell you why. But I will give you letters for the beguinage. Tis there that you must take them, and leave them with the nuns.'

Robert shook his head, ‘I beg you, not the nuns, for now you ask too much!'

‘Patience, there is more,' warned Hew. ‘I fear you will not like it.'

‘I do not like it now,' the soldier grumbled.

‘It is a lot to ask. But if Maude is to travel with you, she must be your wife.'

Robert stared at Hew. ‘You're asking me to marry her?'

‘I trust you do not have a wife already?' queried Hew.

‘I am forty-four, and have never had a wife.'

‘Then that is fortunate.'

‘Is it? There are reasons for it.'

‘Keep them to yourself,' said Hew. ‘And think it, as a marriage of convenience.'

‘And supposing it is not convenient?'

‘I will make it so.'

‘Fair enough,' said Robert. ‘In truth, she is a comely wench. And I could well be settled in an inn.'

‘That is
not
the plan. They will go with you to Ghent. And you will see them settled at the beguinage.'

‘A pity. It is just my luck, that I must be married to a nun!' said Robert gloomily. ‘Still, I doubt that it might not work out. The daughter, too, is skeich. Suppose that I should want to settle down, and take another wife,' he suddenly objected.

‘It would prove no impediment. The marriage will be null, for want of consummation; and you may be assured, that it will
not
be consummated,' answered Hew.

‘I somehow feared as much,' said Robert. ‘And when the deed is done, what do I next?'

‘Then you are your own man, and that is up to you.'

‘Is that so? And suppose that I fetch up one night, and come to Kenly Green, to chance my arm with Nicholas at chess, that offer of a place would stand?'

‘When you are ready, aye.'

‘Should you find you want a man, to drag you from the mire, and rescue you from bandits or the Inquisition?'

‘I cannot rule out that possibility,' admitted Hew.

‘Then I will consider it, and let you know my answer in due course. Meanwhile, I will want some wedding clothes,' said Robert.

A few days after, coming to see Meg, Hew saw Clare Buchanan turning from the house, seemingly in tears. He hurried in to Meg. ‘Why has Clare been crying?' he demanded.

‘I cannot tell you that, Hew! How can you think to ask?' Meg answered in astonishment.

‘I thought it might be George,' said Hew, by way of an excuse.

‘It is not George. George is whole and well, and safe returned to college. Clare came to see me on a personal matter,' Meg replied oppressively.

‘How so, as a patient?'

‘A
personal
matter, Hew!'

‘Aye, then, wait a moment!' Hew broke off. He ran out to the street. Clare stood listlessly, looking out to sea, by the old kirk of St Mary on the rock. She was no longer weeping, but her eyes were bright with tears.

‘Mistress, I am thankful to have caught you. My sister Meg forgot to give you this this.' He handed her a packet of nun's lace, which
he had brought for Meg. ‘How beautiful!' she cried, ‘but why would Meg have thought to give me this?'

‘I brought it back from Flanders, and Meg has far too much of it, and thought that it would bring you better cheer.'

‘Oh!' said Clare. ‘Did she say that? But why should she say that?'

‘'In truth, she broke no confidence,' Hew assured her hurriedly, ‘But are you of out of cheer?'

Clare smiled at him. ‘Not now. It is a lovely thought. And yet I am afraid that I cannot accept it, for while it is most gracious, her gift is undeserved,' she answered carefully.

‘I pray that you will not offend, in turning down her gift,' said Hew.

‘Oh! Then I see I must not. In truth, I do not mean to cause offence. Tis only that the gift was . . . unexpected. This simple act of kindness brings me close to tears,' Clare replied inaudibly.

‘The best gifts are the unexpected ones, for they come from the heart,' insisted Hew. ‘I saw this lace where it was made by sisters in the convents; this one small corner takes a day to make, that would not make a corner for a pocket handkerchief.'

‘It is exquisite fine,' accepted Clare. ‘And you may tell your sister I will treasure it, and wear it next my heart. I thank you, Hew, for you have cheered me up.'

‘Then I have done my task.' He bowed to her. ‘My sister will be pleased.'

He was whistling as he went back to the house.

‘Whatever is the matter, Hew?' Meg demanded. ‘Do you come or stay?'

‘That is a fine way to talk, when I have brought you news, and presents, too, from Ghent,' Hew flopped down carelessly into the gossip chair. ‘And how is Matthew Locke,' he quizzed the sleeping bairn, ‘still pent in swathes of cloth?'

‘He is asleep, and well content, that you do not disturb him or rouse him to your boisterousness,' said Meg. ‘What news?'

‘How like you! You must wait for it, for first we have the presents. Here, for Giles, an optic glass, and here for you, some lace. And Matthew has a linen cap, and yet I see that he is wearing three of them already, and a little knitted jougs to lock him to his crib. Perhaps he should have the optic, and Giles the linen cap, to keep for his old age.'

‘What piffle you talk,' Meg answered fondly, opening out the packet. ‘This is beautiful, Hew.'

‘It comes from the begijnhof. And you have given some to Clare,' Hew mentioned.

Meg let the parcel drop. ‘What have you done?'

‘I have cheered her up.'

‘What were you thinking of? You cannot give her gifts. For she is married, Hew!'

‘Which is why,' he told her, ‘the gift comes from you. Hush then, and let it rest. The thing is done, forgotten in the corner of a handkerchief. You make a woman's fuss, over a scrap of lace. I had not thought you were the jealous kind. Enough of these trifles,' Hew moved smoothly. ‘To the news. Now this is like to please you. The harbour inn is to be sold, and Maude to marry Robert Lachlan, and travel with him overseas.'

‘Maude is going to marry
Robert Lachlan
,' echoed Meg.

‘Aye,' Hew smiled glibly, ‘isn't it marvellous!'

‘Yes . . . no! She hardly knows the man. And he is a mercenary, Hew.'

‘Retired,' corrected Hew.

‘And he is taking them to
Ghent
? Isn't there a war on?'

‘It will be an adventure for them. Be happy for her, Meg. It is what she wants.'

As soon as Giles appeared, Meg assailed him crossly, ‘Hew is quite impossible. I wish that you would talk to him, or else prescribe a purgative, for he has lost his wits.'

The doctor did not break into his usual smile. ‘Indeed, I wish to talk to him,' he mentioned ominously.

‘Then talk,' Hew suggested. ‘I am here.'

‘Not here, but in private, at the college.'

‘That sounds very serious,' said Hew.

‘It is serious.'

‘Then I am summoned, like one of your students. Am I in trouble?' asked Hew.

‘Sincerely, I do hope not. Later, at the college.' Giles turned his back, and abruptly left the room.

Meg stared at Hew. ‘That is quite unlike him. What is it you have done?'

‘He has not told you?' murmured Hew.

‘He has not said a word.'

‘I think that it is likely he has found something out, that I hoped to have kept from him,' Hew responded thoughtfully.

‘But why would you keep secrets from him? He is your friend.'

‘He is far more,' Hew leant down, and kissed her. ‘And that, in truth, is why. I best had go and find out what he wants.'

The doctor's presence, as ever, seemed to fill the turret tower. Hew knocked and entered, with more sense of sadness than of apprehension. ‘I am here, as summoned. What is the matter, Giles?'

Giles set down his pen. ‘I have sent my report to the coroner, on James Edie's death,' he said bluntly.

‘Ah,' said Hew.

‘I have said that he died in the fire. It is a lie.'

‘Is it?' asked Hew, with a look of surprise. ‘What cause had you to lie?'

‘It is a lie, because James Edie died from a puncture to the heart, that was small but deep. The fire was set to mask the tracks. It almost did.'

‘If that is the truth,' Hew answered evenly, ‘then why should you not tell it?'

‘I do not care a jot that you lied before the coroner,' insisted Giles. ‘But you have lied to me. To
me
.'

The words hung heavy in the air. Giles asked, ‘Did you kill James Edie, Hew?'

Hew answered. ‘I did not.'

‘And yet you covered up the crime.'

‘I am afraid I did,' admitted Hew. ‘It was for Maude.'

Giles listened, head in hands, as his friend explained. ‘You trusted Robert Lachlan,' he replied at last, ‘yet you could not trust me?'

‘It was not a question of trust,' answered Hew. ‘I could not implicate you in my crime. You have Matthew, and Meg, to consider.'

‘But do you not see, I am implicated, Hew? I have made a false report,' objected Giles.

‘I did not ask you to,' insisted Hew. ‘I hoped and prayed you would not see the flaw. And if you saw it, then I wanted to be sure that you were free, to make an honest record of your finds.'

‘And how could I do that, when I saw through your deception, Hew? When it was
you
?'

‘You should have done it, Giles. You should do it, still.'

‘And what would happen then?'

‘I would take my stand in court, and defend the charge against her; or, if so required, against myself,' said Hew.

‘You were prepared to stand against me in court, and to perjure yourself?' Giles asked.

‘It did not come to that.'

‘You covered up a crime.'

‘What good would it serve,' Hew argued, ‘to have let Maude hang? What would have become of Lilias?'

The doctor shook his head. ‘I do not know what to say to you, Hew. What happens to them now? Maude is to be married, as you say, to Robert Lachlan.'

‘That is a subterfuge, to allow them passage out of Scotland and overseas, and to ensure their safety. Robert will take them to the begijnhof in Ghent, where Maude will atone for the murder she has done, by living out her days in Christian piety. It will be her
penance. Yet it will be much more than that. For Lilias will be safe, and loved, and free to roam inside the walls without the fear or threat of men, and Maude will have the solace of her grandchild, Jacob's child, and may bring a little comfort to his wife. Would you rather see her hang?'

‘Of course, I would not. But to take the law in your hands . . .'

‘Nor law, but justice, Giles, for law would little serve her in this case.'

‘Be careful, Hew,' Giles warned. ‘For law belongs to man, and justice comes from God.'

‘To whom Maude will devote herself. I know it was not right,' defended Hew. ‘But I could think of nothing else. No matter what James Edie did, the law does not excuse the fact that Maude deprived him of his life. Nor could she hope for mercy from Sir Andrew Wood, for he would hang his brother, if he could. And what compassion then for Maude? The law for him is black or white; the case is clear against her. James Edie was a murderer, and yet there are no proofs to indict him, saving Maude's own word. And who gives heed to that? Then nothing were more certain, than that Maude would hang. And what would profit then, or become of Lilias? God help me, Giles, I know that it was wrong, but I could see no other way.'

‘You could have come to me,' Giles informed him quietly. ‘As you have always come to me, your brother and your friend.'

‘But do you not see? I went to Robert Lachlan, because he is a man for hire. He follows the way of the wind. You have Meg and Matthew. It is too much to lose. Oh, do not turn away from me! I cannot bear it, Giles!'

The wedding was a quiet one. There were no flowers or banquets at the inn, no bitterns, quails or peacock legs to make a wedding feast. Robert wore his new wool coat, and Maude had edged her cap with Flemish lace. Lilias wore winter pansies, and a ribbon sent by Meg. Hew had not seen his sister since his talk with Giles. He had moved out of college and returned to Kenly Green. Though
Nicholas was calm and kind, Hew could not confide in him. He felt an aching loneliness. Early one morning in the first week of December he saw the couple off, on the last ship from St Andrews before the winter dearth. The air was crisp and clear, and already brought a frost, that shimmered cool and fragile in the morning light. Robert, Maude and Lilias were waiting by the shore. Robert held a basket that swayed and mewed pathetically, and struggled to retain it in his grasp.