teacher clapped his hands at the cast.
‘Find William, then!’ he said. ‘Hurry! You know the kind of places to look.’
Gil disengaged his hand from the harper’s with a quiet word, and went forward to join Nick as the students made for the door. On the dais, the senior members of the Faculty were watching in varying degrees of disapproval; around the hall, now that the harper had stopped providing entertainment, the sweetmeats and spiced wine were circulating again.
‘If he is not in his chamber,’ said Patrick Coventry at Nick’s other elbow, ‘nor in the library, then are there likely spots to search or do we comb the entire college?’
‘Yes,’ said Maister Kennedy, following the group of students. ‘It’s one of the things I dislike about him,’ he added, pausing on the steps outside. ‘He crops up everywhere, like columbine-weed, whether he has any business to be there or not. Henry, Walter!’ he called. ‘Go and check William’s chamber. Andrew and Ralph, see if the library is unlocked and if so whether he is there. Ninian, Lowrie, Michael –’
‘I thought we’d search the Inner Close, Maister Kennedy,’ said the yellow-haired tenor, a lanky youth just beginning to broaden at the shoulders, ‘and see if he’s troubling the kitchens as well.’
‘Very good, Lowrie. You do that. Robert Montgomery, Richie Shaw, you search the Inner Close as well.’
‘Please, Maister Kennedy.’ The treble from the singing group put his hand up, snapping his fingers like a schoolboy. ‘What will David and me do?’
‘You and your brother may run to the Arthurlie building,’ said Maister Coventry promptly, ‘and ask anyone you meet there whether William Irvine has been seen.’
‘And come back and report to me here,’ said Nick as the boys scattered across the wet flagstones.
Gil made his way down the steps. Patrick Coventry followed him, saying thoughtfully, ‘Why the kitchens?’
‘I wondered that,’ said Gil. ‘I noticed those three come back together after the rain started, and one of them is lacking his belt.’
He headed for the vaulted tunnel which led between the silent Law lecture-rooms and into the inner courtyard, Maister Coventry behind him. As they emerged into the daylight, shouting erupted in the kitchens at the far side of the courtyard. Gil, hitching up cope and cassock, quickened his pace, and sprang up the kitchen stair in time to meet the tenor and his two friends, retreating backwards from a gaunt woman enveloped in a sacking apron.
‘And stay out of my kitchen!’ she ordered shrilly, with a threatening sweep of her ladle.
‘I’m sorry, Agnes,’ said one of the boys, the fineboned mousy-haired one. ‘We didny mean to annoy you –’
‘Annoy me, he says! Three great louts under my feet asking daft questions – get out of my way, and don’t let me set eyes on you this week!’
‘Agnes Dickson,’ said Gil from behind the students. One of them turned to look at him, and the cook paused open-mouthed. ‘I knew you were still cook here as soon as I saw the Almayne pottage,’ Gil pursued, with perfect truth. ‘I’ve tasted nothing like it since I left the college.’
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Mistress Dickson, less shrill but still hostile. ‘Is this lot anything to do with you? Getting in my way when I’m short-handed, with the rest of the college still to feed, and half the dishes up in the Fore Hall. They should know better by their age.’
‘Senior bachelors are always a trial,’ said Gil sympathetically. ‘We’ve lost one –’
‘He’s a junior,’ said the mousy-haired boy quickly.
‘Have you seen William Irvine, Agnes?’
‘I have not, the saints be praised. I can’t be doing with that laddie, aye on my back about the cost of this and that and who’s getting extra food at the buttery door. Away and look for him elsewhere. And you, Gil Cunningham, come back when I’m less taigled and tell me if your minnie likes your marriage.’
She
‘Find William, then!’ he said. ‘Hurry! You know the kind of places to look.’
Gil disengaged his hand from the harper’s with a quiet word, and went forward to join Nick as the students made for the door. On the dais, the senior members of the Faculty were watching in varying degrees of disapproval; around the hall, now that the harper had stopped providing entertainment, the sweetmeats and spiced wine were circulating again.
‘If he is not in his chamber,’ said Patrick Coventry at Nick’s other elbow, ‘nor in the library, then are there likely spots to search or do we comb the entire college?’
‘Yes,’ said Maister Kennedy, following the group of students. ‘It’s one of the things I dislike about him,’ he added, pausing on the steps outside. ‘He crops up everywhere, like columbine-weed, whether he has any business to be there or not. Henry, Walter!’ he called. ‘Go and check William’s chamber. Andrew and Ralph, see if the library is unlocked and if so whether he is there. Ninian, Lowrie, Michael –’
‘I thought we’d search the Inner Close, Maister Kennedy,’ said the yellow-haired tenor, a lanky youth just beginning to broaden at the shoulders, ‘and see if he’s troubling the kitchens as well.’
‘Very good, Lowrie. You do that. Robert Montgomery, Richie Shaw, you search the Inner Close as well.’
‘Please, Maister Kennedy.’ The treble from the singing group put his hand up, snapping his fingers like a schoolboy. ‘What will David and me do?’
‘You and your brother may run to the Arthurlie building,’ said Maister Coventry promptly, ‘and ask anyone you meet there whether William Irvine has been seen.’
‘And come back and report to me here,’ said Nick as the boys scattered across the wet flagstones.
Gil made his way down the steps. Patrick Coventry followed him, saying thoughtfully, ‘Why the kitchens?’
‘I wondered that,’ said Gil. ‘I noticed those three come back together after the rain started, and one of them is lacking his belt.’
He headed for the vaulted tunnel which led between the silent Law lecture-rooms and into the inner courtyard, Maister Coventry behind him. As they emerged into the daylight, shouting erupted in the kitchens at the far side of the courtyard. Gil, hitching up cope and cassock, quickened his pace, and sprang up the kitchen stair in time to meet the tenor and his two friends, retreating backwards from a gaunt woman enveloped in a sacking apron.
‘And stay out of my kitchen!’ she ordered shrilly, with a threatening sweep of her ladle.
‘I’m sorry, Agnes,’ said one of the boys, the fineboned mousy-haired one. ‘We didny mean to annoy you –’
‘Annoy me, he says! Three great louts under my feet asking daft questions – get out of my way, and don’t let me set eyes on you this week!’
‘Agnes Dickson,’ said Gil from behind the students. One of them turned to look at him, and the cook paused open-mouthed. ‘I knew you were still cook here as soon as I saw the Almayne pottage,’ Gil pursued, with perfect truth. ‘I’ve tasted nothing like it since I left the college.’
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Mistress Dickson, less shrill but still hostile. ‘Is this lot anything to do with you? Getting in my way when I’m short-handed, with the rest of the college still to feed, and half the dishes up in the Fore Hall. They should know better by their age.’
‘Senior bachelors are always a trial,’ said Gil sympathetically. ‘We’ve lost one –’
‘He’s a junior,’ said the mousy-haired boy quickly.
‘Have you seen William Irvine, Agnes?’
‘I have not, the saints be praised. I can’t be doing with that laddie, aye on my back about the cost of this and that and who’s getting extra food at the buttery door. Away and look for him elsewhere. And you, Gil Cunningham, come back when I’m less taigled and tell me if your minnie likes your marriage.’
She
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