The Nicholas Feast by Pat McIntosh Page A

of the stink,’ he added. ‘Watch where you put your feet. Bad dog,’ he said to the pup, which flattened its ears and wagged its stringy tail, trying to excuse its lapse of manners.
    ‘William should certainly not have been keeping a dog in his chamber,’ said Maister Coventry.
    ‘That’s William for you,’ said Nick Kennedy.
    ‘Who do you suppose searched the place?’ said Maistre Pierre, watching Gil soothing the dog. ‘Was it the same person who killed the young man?’
    ‘Quite possibly,’ said Gil. ‘But it was certainly the same person who hit this fellow over the head.’ He lifted the pup again, its long legs dangling, and turned its head so that they could all see the blood clotted in the rough hair behind one ear. ‘I’ll wager he tried to defend his master’s property, eh, poor boy? – and was struck or kicked. When he recovered he began to howl, and the boys took him for a ghost.’
    ‘Poor brute,’ said Maister Coventry. ‘What a way to treat a young animal!’
    ‘What about this chamber?’ said Maister Kennedy, cutting across the mason’s comment. ‘Do we search it, or lock it, or send for John Shaw to get it redded up?’
    ‘I’m afraid,’ said Gil, ‘that we must search it ourselves. It should not take the four of us long.’
    ‘What are we looking for?’ said Maister Kennedy in resigned tones.
    ‘Anything the boy should not have had. Possibly papers, or money, or jewels.’ Gil settled the pup in a nest in the blankets and turned away. It promptly staggered out and pawed at his boots again.
    ‘Papers, you say?’ Maistre Pierre stared round again. ‘Gil, I see very little paper here. Surprisingly little, for a student’s chamber.’
    ‘What about the students?’ said Patrick Coventry. ‘There are a great many boys below in the yard working themselves into a terror about the ghost.’
    ‘Let them,’ said Maister Kennedy callously, stooping to lift a book. ‘Peter of Spain. This is the library’s copy, with Duncan Bunch’s own notes in it. Plague take the boy, I’ve been wanting this for months. As well they never saw the brute,’ he added, ‘or they’d have kent it for Auld Mahoun himself.’
    ‘And what do we do with it?’ worried Maister Coventry, shaking out the satin doublet. ‘We canny keep a wolfhound when we’ve forbidden the students to keep dogs.’
    ‘Properly he belongs to William’s next kin,’ said Gil doubtfully, ‘but he must be fed and physicked before they can be here to claim him.’
    ‘That’s true. It seems to like you, Maister Cunningham. Would you take it? As regent with a duty for the late keeper,’ said the Second Regent formally, ‘I ask you to have a care to this animal until its right owner can be identified. Will that do?’
    ‘Admirably,’ said Gil, and grinned. The pup licked his hand with a long wet tongue. ‘Do you suppose Alys would give me some bread and milk for him, Pierre?’
    ‘And this,’ announced Maister Kennedy, practically gnashing his teeth, ‘is the library’s second copy, bound up with Laurence of Lindores’ commentary on the Book of Suppositions. I have been hunting for this for over a year!’
    ‘It was not the only treasure in his chamber,’ said Gil, setting several bundles on Maister Doby’s reading-desk.
    ‘So I perceive,’ said the Principal, eyeing them askance. ‘What are all these?’
    ‘Four books belonging to the library’ Gil indicated the little volumes. ‘Who is librarian just now, maister? Perhaps some change to the rules?’
    ‘I will recommend it. And these?’
    ‘Two more books, apparently William’s own. One belonging to the senior bachelor, Michael Douglas, which I will return to him. A green silk purse with a surprising amount of money, and some jewels.’ Gil unrolled the red cloth jerkin, to reveal the three elaborate brooches which he had pinned to the cloth.
    ‘He should certainly not have kept these in his chamber,’ said the Principal after a moment,