A Plague of Poison (30 page)
As the first strokes of the dulled blade smashed into the wooden block, a feeling of relief engulfed Bascot’s knotted muscles and he kept swinging the sword until perspiration dripped from every part of his body. Shaking his head to clear it of the beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow, he took a moment’s respite from the exercise and then began again, this time more methodically, letting the rhythm of the sword beat order into his mind and thoughts. As the words of the text had seemed to bid him, he went back in his memory to the day Mauger had claimed his first victim and Bascot had ascended the stairs to the scriptorium and found Blund kneeling over the dying clerk. Then had come the death of Haukwell and Nicolaa de la Haye’s subsequent questioning of Gosbert and his assistant. Thomas’s accusation that Eric had poisoned the honeyed drink had followed, and then the assistant’s denial, citing the fact that Gosbert had used some of the honey to make marchpane and it could not have been tainted. That was when it had been revealed that Nicolaa de la Haye had most likely been the intended victim, since the cook had admitted he had sent the cake to her chamber, saying in his defence that he had done so in the hope of tempting her flagging appetite. The sempstress, Clare, had then told how she had taken the cakes to the scriptorium …
Bascot halted in the sword in mid-stroke. No, it was later that Gosbert had mentioned Nicolaa’s failing appetite, when Bascot had questioned him in the holding cell after the cook had been incarcerated. Then Gosbert’s statement had been more detailed; he had said his purpose in sending the cakes had been to encourage Lady Nicolaa to eat and had added that his reason for doing so had been that “he had heard” her appetite was waning. Who had told him that? The entire household in the castle had known that Nicolaa was indisposed, but Bascot could not recall anyone mentioning that she had suffered a disinclination for food. Had it been an assumption on Gosbert’s part that her illness had induced a lack of appetite, or had someone intentionally told him it was so? Could it have been Mauger, in the guise of his assumed identity, that had encouraged Gosbert to prepare the marchpane and send it to his mistress, using the cook as an innocent dupe in the commission of her murder?
Slowly Bascot let the sword fall loose in his hand so that the tip rested on the ground as he examined the notion that had just come to him, and then, grabbing the tunic he had discarded, he gave the blunted sword to one of the pages and walked swiftly across the bail in the direction of the castle kitchen.
W
HEN BASCOT ENTERED THE COOKHOUSE, HE FOUND Gosbert overseeing two scullions as they positioned the carcass of a recently slaughtered sheep onto a spit in one of the fireplaces. Eric was standing nearby, a pot of grease with which to lard the animal in his hand. When the Templar called to Gosbert, the cook immediately came to his side, pulling off the rough linen cap that covered his bald head.
HEN BASCOT ENTERED THE COOKHOUSE, HE FOUND Gosbert overseeing two scullions as they positioned the carcass of a recently slaughtered sheep onto a spit in one of the fireplaces. Eric was standing nearby, a pot of grease with which to lard the animal in his hand. When the Templar called to Gosbert, the cook immediately came to his side, pulling off the rough linen cap that covered his bald head.
“I am here under instruction from Lady Nicolaa,” Bascot informed him. The Templar wanted to get the information he was seeking from the cook without Gosbert realising the point of his questions, and also wanted to prevent Eric overhearing the gist of their conversation. He would have to use a ploy of some sort to get the cook away from the rest. “She wants to ensure that Wilkin did not tamper with any of the other foodstuffs in the kitchens,” he said to the cook, “especially those in the storeroom, which was not locked until after the remaining honey pots had been tested. Open the door and show me what the room contains, so I may judge whether there is need for Thorey to test any of it on his rats.”
Gosbert was quick to comply with the request and led the Templar away from the ovens towards the room that Bascot remembered seeing on the day he had come to question Eric. Taking a candle from a shelf, Gosbert set the wick alight from the flame of one of the cresset lamps that were set in holders at intervals along the walls, and he walked to the far end of the kitchen. After unlocking the storeroom door with a key hanging from a chain on his belt, Gosbert pushed it open and led Bascot inside. The Templar shut the door behind them. The room was large, with bags of flour stacked along one side and barrels of salted fish lined up on the other. Stoppered earthenware containers of various sizes stood at the farthest end, and above them were shelves laid with rounds of cheese, bowls of eggs and jars of mustard. In one corner were a box of candles and a large wooden bucket filled with scoops and ladles.
“I think ‘twould only be the fish that would have a taste strong enough to mask a poison, lord,” Gosbert said with a worried look on his face, “but the mustard might do just as well. Shall I get them all brought out into the bail so Thorey can test them?”
Bascot walked about the room, pretending to examine the lids on all of the fish barrels and the seals on the jars of mustard. “I will ask Lady Nicolaa if she thinks it best to do so, Gosbert. After all, the potter managed to exchange a jar of poisoned honey for a pure one while you and the rest of the kitchen servants were near at hand; he could just as easily have slipped in here and done the same with one of these.”
The cook ran a hand over his bald head in distress. “I know, lord. I blame myself for not being more vigilant. ‘Twas bad enough the life of Sir Simon was taken, and that of the clerk, but if Lady Nicolaa had died …”
“Yes, we must give thanks to God that she was spared,” Bascot replied soberly. “If her throat had not been so sore, then such would have been her lot.” He gave the cook an accusing look. “But, Gosbert, it must be said that if you had not made the simnel cake and sent it to her chamber, the danger to her life would not have been there in the first place.”
“I know that, lord.” Gosbert gave the Templar a look full of remorse, but as Bascot had hoped, he then tried to exonerate himself from blame. “I would never have made the cake, Sir Bascot, if I had not been told that milady’s desire for food was waning. ‘Tis well-known that Lady Nicolaa has a fondness for marchpane. I thought it might encourage her to eat. She is a good mistress and has been kind to me; I would never wish any harm to come to her.”
“I am sure you would not,” Bascot offered sympathetically. “And neither, I am sure, would the person who told you of her disinclination for food. Did he, too, know of Lady Nicolaa’s liking for marchpane?”
Gosbert nodded absently, and Bascot then asked, in as nonchalant a manner as he could adopt, the name of the person with whom the cook had discussed Nicolaa de la Haye’s failing appetite. The Templar held his breath as he waited for the cook’s reply and, when it came, felt a surge of triumph. It was one of the names on the list that Nicolaa and Richard had prepared.
Thirty-three
A
SHORT TIME LATER BASCOT WAS SITTING WITH Nicolaa in her private chamber. He told her that he had discovered an indication of the assumed identity Mauger was using but, to corroborate it, he needed first to ask her a question. The castellan gave him a look of puzzlement but agreed to his request all the same.
SHORT TIME LATER BASCOT WAS SITTING WITH Nicolaa in her private chamber. He told her that he had discovered an indication of the assumed identity Mauger was using but, to corroborate it, he needed first to ask her a question. The castellan gave him a look of puzzlement but agreed to his request all the same.
“The rheum you had at the time that the clerk and Haukwell died—did it cause you to lose your appetite?”
Nicolaa thought back for a moment before replying. “Not until the sore throat came upon me the night before the clerk was poisoned. I had been taking a medicant that my mother always used when either I or one of my sisters came down with such an ailment—a mixture of borage steeped in cider—and, although it has the effect of relieving the congestion, it tends to make one hungry. It was only when my throat became too sore to swallow that I could not eat. Up until then, my appetite had been hearty, even though the ache in my head had forced me to keep to the solace of my bedchamber. The sempstress, Clare, brought me food from the hall at mealtimes.” She looked at the Templar, waiting for an explanation of his query.
“So no one on the household staff would have been under the impression that you had no desire for food?” Bascot persisted.
“I cannot see why they should,” Nicolaa replied, becoming slightly impatient. “Just as I cannot fathom why my appetite, or lack of it, should be important, de Marins. Surely it is obvious that if Mauger had believed my desire for food to be waning, he would not have poisoned the honey in the hope that I would ingest it. It was only the sudden advent of the soreness in my throat that saved my life, and I give thanks to God for making it so.”
“Yes, lady, but if you will think back to the day that I told you of the answers Gosbert had given to the questions I put to him, you will recall that he stated that the reason he made the marchpane was that he had heard you had lost interest in eating and hoped to encourage its return by preparing a dish of which you were fond. We paid no heed to his statement at the time because, due to the tenderness in your throat, you were, in fact, unable to eat, and the question of
when
he had been told about your condition never arose.”
when
he had been told about your condition never arose.”
Nicolaa immediately saw the error that had been made. “And we were also, at that moment, distracted by the death of Haukwell and his squire’s accusation that Eric was responsible for poisoning his lord’s drink, and so passed over the importance of his words,” she said.
“Exactly so,” Bascot agreed.
“Have you questioned Gosbert about this?” she asked.
“I have,” Bascot replied. “And discovered that the same person who told him the falsehood about your waning appetite also suggested that he prepare a dish including marchpane—your partiality for which is well-known—to restore it.”
When Nicolaa de la Haye heard the name of the person responsible, her face became grave as she nodded. “He would have easy access to the kitchens in the castle and priory and, I think, the boldness to place the poison in Reinbald’s home. He must be the one we are seeking.”
Even though she was in accord with his opinion, the castellan was quick to point out that they could not afford to be in error. “If we are wrong, we would be putting another innocent man in gaol, just as was done with the potter. We must find a way to confirm, beyond doubt, that the person we suspect is Mauger Rivelar so that there can be no mistake this time.”
N
ICOLAA SENT FOR HER SON TO JOIN THEM, And with Bascot they sat through the long hours of the afternoon and early evening discussing a way in which they might trap Mauger into revealing his true identity and purpose. Various ideas were considered, amongst them searching his possessions for a supply of the poison, but after deciding it was unlikely he would have secreted the venom amongst his few belongings and it would alert him to their suspicions if they asked to inspect them, the ideas were all discarded.
ICOLAA SENT FOR HER SON TO JOIN THEM, And with Bascot they sat through the long hours of the afternoon and early evening discussing a way in which they might trap Mauger into revealing his true identity and purpose. Various ideas were considered, amongst them searching his possessions for a supply of the poison, but after deciding it was unlikely he would have secreted the venom amongst his few belongings and it would alert him to their suspicions if they asked to inspect them, the ideas were all discarded.
At last, tiredness overtook them, and they decided it would be best to seek some rest and continue their discussion the next day.
“Sometimes sleep reveals a solution that has remained hidden from the wakened mind,” Nicolaa said, rising from her stool.
“We must hope it does so speedily,” Richard remarked, “for in only two days’ time it will be May Day. If Mauger decides to claim another victim, he will have ample opportunity to do so amidst the confusion of the celebrations, especially if he decides to use poison again.”
Nicolaa knew that what her son said was true. On the first day of May it was her custom to allow a huge maypole to be erected in the castle ward and a queen to be elected from among the female servants. Once that was done the fortunate maid would reign over her companions in a merry pretence of royalty as she led a procession out into the countryside to collect boughs of greenery and spring wildflowers to decorate the pole. While the church frowned upon the heathen aspect of the celebration, they gave their sanction to the festivities by honouring it as the feast of the apostles Philip and Jacob and ensured that all of Lady Nicolaa’s staff was reminded of the sanctity of the day by sending a priest to give a blessing in the castle ward before the procession began. There would be many people milling about the hall and the bail during the festivities, and not only in the daytime, but during the evening, when the queen would lead her subjects in a dance around the maypole.
“We must both be careful of what we eat and drink while the celebrations are being held, Mother,” Richard said to Nicolaa. “With open kegs of ale and tables full of victuals laid out for all to consume, it would be a simple matter for Mauger to slip poison into one of the dishes or cups without being noticed.”
Her shoulders drooping with weariness, Nicolaa had almost reached the door of the chamber as her son spoke. She turned, her hand on the latch as she began to assure him she would heed his words, when she suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. “But that is it, Richard! The May Day celebrations. That is the time when it may be possible to cozen Mauger into revealing himself.”
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