And isn’t that the truth, thought Janet.
‘Now, Mrs Dodd, I haven’t the time to go enquiring about Jemmy Atkinson’s death. My lord Warden considers the matter solved by Mrs Atkinson’s confession and he has given me direct orders to get on with organising the muster for Sunday and the inquest for Thursday and as I have no clerk yet, I have to write the letters myself. But Sergeant Dodd is presumably at a loose end...’
That thought made her blood run cold. With money in his pocket and Bangtail in town... She nodded.
‘First, I want him to subpoena Pennycook’s clerk, Michael Kerr, to appear at the inquest tomorrow. Then I want him to enquire into the matter for me. Poke around a bit and see what he finds. And you too, Mrs Dodd. Mrs Atkinson’s gossips will talk differently to you than they would to me.’
Janet’s mouth fell open. Carey didn’t seem to have noticed what he had said and now he was cocking his head to listen to the funny noises from the bed. Next minute he was on his feet and beckoning her over to it. She followed suspiciously. He drew back one of the faded curtains gently; she peered in and then started to laugh. The yellow bitch lying there with her pups nuzzling up against her flank lifted a lip and gave a low growl.
‘Shame on you, Buttercup,’ said Carey. ‘Mrs Dodd, this is Buttercup and Buttercup this is Janet Dodd. Buttercup,’ he said with the first proper smile she had seen from him that day, ‘has evicted me from my own bed.’
He let the curtains fall again as Dodd came shambling lankily in, looking injured and sorrowful as usual. At least his long dour face brightened when he saw Janet who came over to kiss him and then he remembered what he had been doing recently and his expression became wary.
‘Where’s Julia Coldale?’ she demanded.
‘Och, the maid with the red hair?’ he asked.
‘Ay.’
‘She said she had tae go back to the town again urgently and she didnae want to wait for ye, so I said she could go.’
‘By herself?’ sniffed Janet.
‘Er... no,’ admitted her husband. ‘Bangtail and Red Sandy went with her to see she was all right.’
‘They’re both married men.’
‘Ay, they’ll protect her right enough.’
‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes,’ said Carey suddenly.
‘Eh, sir?’ asked Dodd.
‘“Who will protect her from the protectors?”’ Carey translated, and Janet laughed.
‘Now there’s a piece of sense,’ she said. ‘Who said that?’
Carey thought for a moment. ‘I can’t remember,’ he admitted. ‘Some Roman or other.’
‘Well, it’s uncommon good sense for a foreigner,’ said Janet patronisingly. ‘Good afternoon to ye, sir.’
***
She saw Julia Coldale come along the street with two of the garrison men, one on each side, both of them as full of pride and preening as a couple of cock pheasants. The girl had a high colour and seemed to be enjoying herself. She left them outside as she went into the Leighs’ own draper’s shop.
And then she saw Janet Dodd and her husband, also coming along the street. Janet paused to talk to Alison Talyer who was shelling peas in her door while Dodd came on and disappeared under the scaffolding. She heard creaking and realised he was climbing the ladder, very cautiously, and she heard his voice drone as he spoke to the foreman.
Mrs Leigh put down her work, struggled herself off the window seat and went to the top of the stairs.
‘Jock!’ she yelled. ‘Jock Burn!’
‘Ay, mistress,’ came the answering shout. ‘I’ll be with ye in a minute.’
It was quite a bit after a minute that the skinny little man finally came up the stairs and stood lowering at her in his greasy jerkin and the incongruous new blue suit her husband had given him. Julia left at the same time and could be seen through the window chatting and laughing with the garrison men.
‘What did Julia Coldale want?’ she demanded.
He looked shiftily away from her. ‘Och,’ he said. ‘She was time-wastin’, only wantin’ to hear the price o’ this and that.’
‘Oh?’
He gave her the straight stare of the experienced liar.
‘Where’s the master, Mrs Leigh?’ he asked.
‘Over at the new warehouse. Why?’
‘Ay,’ said Jock, taking off his shop apron. ‘I need to speak wi’ him; will ye excuse me, mistress?’
She nodded, suddenly glad he could lie, and he turned and pattered down the stairs again. That perhaps was why she failed to notice that, when Dodd came creaking down the ladder again some time later, he was carrying a small bundle.
WEDNESDAY, 5TH JULY 1592, LATE AFTERNOON
Carey was deep in the tedium of paperwork again, his mind nibbling frustratedly at the problem of Jemmy Atkinson as he worked, when he had another visitor. After the first flash of fury, he saw it was the Bell headman who had called out his family against Wattie Graham the day before.
‘Mr Bell,’ he said courteously, wondering when he would be finished with his damned letters. ‘What can I do for you?’
Archibald Bell came stumping in through his chamber looking uncomfortably hot in a homespun green suit and a new high-crowned hat.
