A Plague of Poison (19 page)
T
HAT AFTERNOON ROGET FOUND THAT HIS ROUNDS about the town had taken him near Claxledgate, the gate that led out of the city into the poor suburb of Butwerk. Since Butwerk was the district where most of Lincoln’s prostitutes plied their trade, he decided to go to Whore’s Alley and ask the bawds who lived there if Ivor Severtsson had ever had occasion to pay for their services.
HAT AFTERNOON ROGET FOUND THAT HIS ROUNDS about the town had taken him near Claxledgate, the gate that led out of the city into the poor suburb of Butwerk. Since Butwerk was the district where most of Lincoln’s prostitutes plied their trade, he decided to go to Whore’s Alley and ask the bawds who lived there if Ivor Severtsson had ever had occasion to pay for their services.
Most of the stewe-keepers knew Roget and were wary of him. Although it was the town bailiff who had jurisdiction over the management of their brothels, the captain of Camville’s guard was a man who was well-known for his ruthless treatment of any who disturbed the sheriff’s peace. His sudden appearance in Whore’s Alley made them all uneasy.
While Roget’s presence may have caused trepidation among the stewe-keepers, the bawds were pleased to see him. Although he had never had the need to pay for the services of a harlot, they all knew him as a man who enjoyed the company of women, and one or two of the bawds had willingly shared his bed purely for the pleasure of his company. All of them would gladly have helped him if they could, but unfortunately none remembered having a customer such as Roget described. Severtsson’s appearance, with his height and startlingly fair hair and pale eyes, was distinctive, and while many of the male inhabitants of Lincoln could number an antecedent of Nordic origin in their family, none had so completely inherited not only the colouring Ivor Severtsson possessed, but also the height and strength. Each of the harlots shook her head reluctantly in response to the captain’s question.
It was not until Roget went into the last whorehouse in the area that he finally found a bawd who was able to help him. She was one that Roget had never seen before, a full-figured young woman with a tousle of raven black hair, and she nodded with conviction when he described the bailiff.
“I didn’t see him here in Lincoln, Captain,” the girl, whose name was Amelia, said. She had, she explained, been employed at a bawdy house in Louth until a few months before, and it was there that she had seen a man fitting Severtsson’s description. Roget listened to her with interest; Louth was a town which lay just a little over twenty-five miles eastward from Lincoln, but Wragby, where Severtsson was employed as bailiff, was closer to Louth, and could be reached by a relatively short ride on horseback.
“Are you sure it was the same man,
ma belle
?” Roget asked the harlot.
ma belle
?” Roget asked the harlot.
Amelia tossed her head and replied, “It must be him. He was a big man, just like you said, and very fair, and I remember the stewe-keeper calling him Ivor.”
Roget gave the girl a smile and stroked his beard knowingly. “I expect such a well-favoured man would be a pleasant customer to entertain,” he said. “And you are pretty enough,
ma petite
, to stoke any man’s desire.”
ma petite
, to stoke any man’s desire.”
Amelia’s response surprised Roget. “I don’t know as how I’d want to stoke his,” she said tartly. “I remember the time he came and how we all looked at him with admiration, hopin’ to be the one he chose. It was my good fortune that he didn’t pick me. The girl who went with him was just a tiny little thing, no bigger than a mouse, and he used her so harshly that she couldn’t get out of bed for the next two days.”
Her dark eyes narrowed in disgust. “She told us afterwards that when she begged him to stop it seemed to inflame him further, and he held his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t cry out to the stewe-keeper for help. That’s the reason I remember him. I’ll never forget the bruises that were on her body. He wasn’t a man, he was a beast.”
Twenty
T
HE RETURN Of THE SHERIFF HAD CAUSED THE atmosphere in the town to change yet again. By the next day, and for the first time that any could remember, Gerard Camville’s presence was welcomed by the people of Lincoln, and they contrarily lauded his reputation for dealing out summary justice without regard for clemency. Instead of the self-righteous outrage that had dominated their attitude when they had heard news of the potter’s arrest, the mood was now one of suppressed excitement. As news of the sheriff’s intention to hold his court spread, all of the town’s citizens looked forward with a macabre pleasure to seeing the potter sentenced to dangle from the end of a rope.
HE RETURN Of THE SHERIFF HAD CAUSED THE atmosphere in the town to change yet again. By the next day, and for the first time that any could remember, Gerard Camville’s presence was welcomed by the people of Lincoln, and they contrarily lauded his reputation for dealing out summary justice without regard for clemency. Instead of the self-righteous outrage that had dominated their attitude when they had heard news of the potter’s arrest, the mood was now one of suppressed excitement. As news of the sheriff’s intention to hold his court spread, all of the town’s citizens looked forward with a macabre pleasure to seeing the potter sentenced to dangle from the end of a rope.
Bascot looked at Gianni. They were sitting in their sleeping chamber at the top of the old keep, and the boy was practicing his letters on one of the pieces of parchment Bascot had bought for him a few weeks before, copying out some basic phrases of Latin grammar that the Templar had penned for him. Bascot noticed that he was doing it in a desultory fashion far removed from the eager industry he had shown throughout the dreary months of winter.
It had only been since they had visited the apiary that Gianni had been subdued, and the Templar knew that the plight of the beekeeper’s family had struck a chord of pity in Gianni’s heart. He suspected that the sympathy the boy felt was laced with a resurgence of his own fears and a remembrance of the time before Bascot had found him homeless and starving on a wharf in Palermo. The Templar was well aware that his young servant feared the loss of his master’s patronage; that had been made plain last year when Gianni had taken great risks with his own safety to make his services valuable to Nicolaa de la Haye in the hope that she would find him a place in her retinue. Bascot was tempted to tell the boy of his plans to leave the Order to give him reassurance, but until he had been to London and discussed the matter with Master Berard, he was reluctant to do so. The oath that he had taken when he joined the Order had included the avowal that if he should ever decide to leave the brotherhood, he would enter a monastic order that held to a stricter regime than its own. He hoped that the influence of King John and Nicolaa de la Haye would help to alleviate the severity of such a penance, but it was still entirely possible that another act of contrition would be levied, and that could include a pilgrimage that would be of some months’ duration or a long period of solitary reflection in a hermit’s cell. His own conscience dictated that he would have to undergo whatever expiation was required, and he would ensure that Gianni was taken care of during the time he fulfilled it, but he did not want to raise the boy’s hopes only to have him discover that, in order to realise them, it might be necessary to forego the protection of his master for a considerable length of time.
As he watched the boy, it occurred to Bascot that Gianni’s melancholy might be eased if Preceptor d’Arderon were asked to give aid to the beekeeper’s family. The Templar was sure Adam and his daughter were blameless of any complicity in the murders, but the destitution they would face once Wilkin was hanged was real. Not only would they be deprived of the income the sale of his pots brought in, it was doubtful if anyone in Lincoln would ever again buy Adam’s honey. The recollection that it had once contained a substance that had brought about the deaths of so many people would taint it forever. Adam and Margot would then be without any means of income to sustain them. Bascot was sure that d’Arderon would be willing to grant such a request. The Order commanded all of its members to sustain the poor and hungry whenever they were able, and the preceptor was scrupulous in his observance of the Templar Rule.
But, even if that was done, there was still the worry that Gianni would feel deserted if his master left him alone. If he could find a worthwhile occupation to engage the boy’s interest while he was absent, it might allay his apprehension.
As the cathedral bells rang out the hour of Sext and signalled that it was almost time for the midday meal to be served, Bascot spoke to the lad. “I have been thinking, Gianni, that perhaps it is time for you to undergo some further instruction in the art of scribing. There are some good
scholas
in Lincoln. I shall ask Master Blund if he can recommend one for you to attend, or perhaps a tutor to give you lessons privately.”
scholas
in Lincoln. I shall ask Master Blund if he can recommend one for you to attend, or perhaps a tutor to give you lessons privately.”
Bascot fully intended to observe for the rest of his life the vows of poverty and chastity that he had sworn on the day he had been initiated into the Templar ranks, even when he was no longer a member of the brotherhood, and would take for his own use none of the income that would come to him from his father’s fief or his salary from Nicolaa de la Haye. But for Gianni, he did not feel the same constraint. There would be ample funds to pay for the boy to have a good education.
Gianni’s face lit up when he heard his master’s words. The boy knew that even though the Templar had taught him to read and write, there were many other lessons to be learned if one was to be fully educated. First would come instruction in the trivium of grammar, rhetoric and logic and then, if he proved an apt pupil, he would be taught the quadrivium, formal training in arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music. How self-sufficient he would be if he did his lessons well; he could even aspire to one day hold a position such as Master Blund’s,
secretarius
to a lord or lady. He had never dreamed he would have such an opportunity and had, as the Templar so rightly surmised, been fearful that his master would return to the Order and leave him to fend for himself. This anxiety had been heightened by the Templar’s recent visits to the preceptory. Although Gianni knew that his master had been going there to have discussions with Preceptor d’Arderon about the evil man who was poisoning people, the boy had still been concerned that the Templar would once again feel a pull to return to their ranks, and it had alarmed him. The preceptory was the one place that Gianni never accompanied his master; unlike other monastic orders, children were not allowed either to join the Order or to come within the places where they lived and worshipped. While the lad, like most other boys his age, held the Templars in awe, he had come to dread the times when his master left him to go to the enclave, fearful that he would never see his protector again. Now such times would no longer make his stomach churn with foreboding.
secretarius
to a lord or lady. He had never dreamed he would have such an opportunity and had, as the Templar so rightly surmised, been fearful that his master would return to the Order and leave him to fend for himself. This anxiety had been heightened by the Templar’s recent visits to the preceptory. Although Gianni knew that his master had been going there to have discussions with Preceptor d’Arderon about the evil man who was poisoning people, the boy had still been concerned that the Templar would once again feel a pull to return to their ranks, and it had alarmed him. The preceptory was the one place that Gianni never accompanied his master; unlike other monastic orders, children were not allowed either to join the Order or to come within the places where they lived and worshipped. While the lad, like most other boys his age, held the Templars in awe, he had come to dread the times when his master left him to go to the enclave, fearful that he would never see his protector again. Now such times would no longer make his stomach churn with foreboding.
He clapped his hands together to signify his pleasure, and even though the chamber was a small one, he managed to turn a somersault within the confines of the tiny room to show his joy. When Bascot told him that he would also see if he could obtain some assistance for the beekeeper’s family from the Order, he thought the smile on Gianni’s face could grow no wider. Both master and servant went to partake of the midday meal feeling that a little ray of happiness had lightened the gloom that had, up until now, intruded on their hearts and minds.
A
S BASCOT And GIANNI WERE ENTERING THE HALL, one of the men-at-arms was taking food to the prisoner in the holding cell. It was only a crust of stale bread and a small bowl of pottage, but Wilkin was frightened to eat it. All of the soldiers who stood guard over him had not hesitated to show their contempt, and he feared that the food had been tainted in some way. That morning, he had been told gleefully by one of them that Gerard Camville had returned and would hold a sheriff’s court the following day, and had added the assurance that Wilkin would soon find his neck being stretched.
S BASCOT And GIANNI WERE ENTERING THE HALL, one of the men-at-arms was taking food to the prisoner in the holding cell. It was only a crust of stale bread and a small bowl of pottage, but Wilkin was frightened to eat it. All of the soldiers who stood guard over him had not hesitated to show their contempt, and he feared that the food had been tainted in some way. That morning, he had been told gleefully by one of them that Gerard Camville had returned and would hold a sheriff’s court the following day, and had added the assurance that Wilkin would soon find his neck being stretched.
The potter was desolate. The prospect of losing his life was fearful enough, but what would happen to his family once he was gone? Tears came to his eyes as he thought of his wife, Margot, their son, Young Adam, and poor, mazed Rosamunde and her babe. How would they all survive without him there to protect them? The worry that had engulfed him when he had been told he would be losing the custom of the castle and priory seemed small by comparison to the future that faced them if he was dead. He knew that the beekeeper would do his best to provide for them, but without the pennies Wilkin earned from the produce of his kiln there would be precious little money to buy flour for bread or other necessities of life. And it would not take long, without him there to tend to their maintenance, for the buildings on the property to fall into disrepair. Once that happened, the Templar preceptor might remove his family from the apiary and give it to more suitable tenants.
Wilkin cursed himself for not being able to resist the temptation to denounce the bailiff for raping his daughter. Despite both Margot and Adam insisting that Rosamunde’s baby had been fathered by Drue Rivelar, the potter was convinced that Ivor Severtsson had, nonetheless, taken her by force on the day that Wilkin had found her out of her senses in the woods near Nettleham village. It had been only moments before that he had seen the bailiff riding by the place where she was lying. She had been upset before that, it was true, and Wilkin allowed there might be some credence in the tale that she had taken the brigand as her lover and was distraught over his death, but she had, until that morning, been in her right senses. It was only after he had found her in such a dreadful state that she had become mazed. He knew with a father’s instinct that Severtsson was the cause, and he had been frustrated by his inability to mete out justice to the arrogant bailiff. Every time Severtsson had come to the apiary after that day, the knowledge of his perfidy had burned in Wilkin’s breast like the flames in the heart of his kiln. Finally, when the villagers had looked askance at his daughter’s swelling belly, he had no longer been able to contain his anger, and the accusation of rape had burst from his lips. Adam had been right; Wilkin’s unruly tongue had been his undoing, and now not only was he going to pay for his sin, but so were his family.
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