remarked judiciously.
Giles snorted. ‘Aye, they do, and turn their backs on countless wives and bairns. The grandgore wreaks its havoc through the generations, ravaging and maiming over many years. It is a most insidious disease, and dearly, I would like to find a cure for it. For what the surgeons presently propose …’ he shook his head, ‘well, those are horrors dreamt in hell. You cannot conceive what the poor wretches suffer.’
‘But for a gentler remedy, might you not look to Meg?’ persisted Hew. ‘And share your apprehensions? She has wit and skill.’
‘And shall I speak to her, of foul, polluted congress?’ Giles blurted fiercely. ‘Or of suppurating pustules, on the privy member? Dear God, she is your sister , Hew! She is my wife !
‘Perhaps Meg has told you,’ he changed the subject abruptly, ‘I am embarked on a most healthful course of exercise. I recommend it to you, as most beneficial.’
‘That I infer is part of the problem,’ Hew retorted. ‘She tells me you have taken up the golf.’
‘Golf, oh aye,’ Giles said dismissively. ‘But that is a winter game, and now that it is spring, and the grass begins to grow, it is difficult to play. In truth,’ he frowned, ‘it proves a costly sort of game, for the balls are made so hard, they crack the clubs.’
‘That must be vexing,’ Hew observed.
‘It would be, if I often hit the ball,’ conceded Giles. ‘No matter, for I am resolved in giving up the gowf .’
‘Meg will be relieved.’
‘And taking up the,’ Giles went on stubbornly, ‘to which end I have set my heart upon a purchase from the senzie fair. There is a man there has for sale a pair of tennis drawers. Then you and I will take our turn upon the caichpule at the priory, for I know you played in Paris, at the jeu de paume . Shall we play racquets or hand?’
This last question startled Hew. He replied, a little nonplussed, ‘You were thinking of playing with me?’
‘Aye, and why not?’ enthused Giles. ‘You play well. And since I am a novice, you shall point out the rules.’
‘Giles … you do not think that you may find it … somewhat hot and straining?’
‘What of it? For though a chafing heat may stir the blood …’
‘I fear it might.’
‘Yet I am stout enough to brave the storm.’
‘Aye, so you are,’ Hew sighed. ‘In truth, though I should like nothing more than teaching you the catchpole, yet I am afraid that it will have to wait. I am about to leave for Edinburgh, on some business. And I may be gone a while.’
‘Ah, then that’s a pity. Still, the weather is perhaps a little chill,’ Giles conceded. ‘We shall try our racquets later in the spring. What business have you in the capital?’
‘Debts owed to my father. And another strange affair, that perhaps he mentioned to you? He has left a book of his old cases in the courts, with directions to a printer, Christian Hall.’
Giles shook his head. ‘I never heard of that. It’s strange he did not mention it. Though not so strange, perhaps, that he should leave a casebook. I have often thought that I might publish one myself. God willing, aye, a treatise on the pox,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘When I came here to take up this place, it struck me as singular, in this time and age, not to find a printer. In a university of such renown, I quite expected it. Yet it turned out our theses are sent off to Edinburgh, that has printers, but no university.’
‘Aye, it was not always so. When Nicholas and I were boys in St Leonard’s college, some six or eight years ago, there was a printer in the town, who came to grief.’
‘How so?’ Giles looked interested.
‘One of our regents, John Davidson, wrote a poem that was printed without his consent, that caused great offence to the Court. For which the printer, Robert Lekprevik, was sentenced to ward in Edinburgh castle, and remains there to this day for all I know, or else is dead.’
Giles tutted sympathetically. ‘Then
Giles snorted. ‘Aye, they do, and turn their backs on countless wives and bairns. The grandgore wreaks its havoc through the generations, ravaging and maiming over many years. It is a most insidious disease, and dearly, I would like to find a cure for it. For what the surgeons presently propose …’ he shook his head, ‘well, those are horrors dreamt in hell. You cannot conceive what the poor wretches suffer.’
‘But for a gentler remedy, might you not look to Meg?’ persisted Hew. ‘And share your apprehensions? She has wit and skill.’
‘And shall I speak to her, of foul, polluted congress?’ Giles blurted fiercely. ‘Or of suppurating pustules, on the privy member? Dear God, she is your sister , Hew! She is my wife !
‘Perhaps Meg has told you,’ he changed the subject abruptly, ‘I am embarked on a most healthful course of exercise. I recommend it to you, as most beneficial.’
‘That I infer is part of the problem,’ Hew retorted. ‘She tells me you have taken up the golf.’
‘Golf, oh aye,’ Giles said dismissively. ‘But that is a winter game, and now that it is spring, and the grass begins to grow, it is difficult to play. In truth,’ he frowned, ‘it proves a costly sort of game, for the balls are made so hard, they crack the clubs.’
‘That must be vexing,’ Hew observed.
‘It would be, if I often hit the ball,’ conceded Giles. ‘No matter, for I am resolved in giving up the gowf .’
‘Meg will be relieved.’
‘And taking up the,’ Giles went on stubbornly, ‘to which end I have set my heart upon a purchase from the senzie fair. There is a man there has for sale a pair of tennis drawers. Then you and I will take our turn upon the caichpule at the priory, for I know you played in Paris, at the jeu de paume . Shall we play racquets or hand?’
This last question startled Hew. He replied, a little nonplussed, ‘You were thinking of playing with me?’
‘Aye, and why not?’ enthused Giles. ‘You play well. And since I am a novice, you shall point out the rules.’
‘Giles … you do not think that you may find it … somewhat hot and straining?’
‘What of it? For though a chafing heat may stir the blood …’
‘I fear it might.’
‘Yet I am stout enough to brave the storm.’
‘Aye, so you are,’ Hew sighed. ‘In truth, though I should like nothing more than teaching you the catchpole, yet I am afraid that it will have to wait. I am about to leave for Edinburgh, on some business. And I may be gone a while.’
‘Ah, then that’s a pity. Still, the weather is perhaps a little chill,’ Giles conceded. ‘We shall try our racquets later in the spring. What business have you in the capital?’
‘Debts owed to my father. And another strange affair, that perhaps he mentioned to you? He has left a book of his old cases in the courts, with directions to a printer, Christian Hall.’
Giles shook his head. ‘I never heard of that. It’s strange he did not mention it. Though not so strange, perhaps, that he should leave a casebook. I have often thought that I might publish one myself. God willing, aye, a treatise on the pox,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘When I came here to take up this place, it struck me as singular, in this time and age, not to find a printer. In a university of such renown, I quite expected it. Yet it turned out our theses are sent off to Edinburgh, that has printers, but no university.’
‘Aye, it was not always so. When Nicholas and I were boys in St Leonard’s college, some six or eight years ago, there was a printer in the town, who came to grief.’
‘How so?’ Giles looked interested.
‘One of our regents, John Davidson, wrote a poem that was printed without his consent, that caused great offence to the Court. For which the printer, Robert Lekprevik, was sentenced to ward in Edinburgh castle, and remains there to this day for all I know, or else is dead.’
Giles tutted sympathetically. ‘Then
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