Nicolaa considered the merchant’s words for a moment and then nodded her head. “I would be a foolish woman to refuse such a generous offer,” she said. “While my husband does not have a taste for sweetened wine, both my son and I are very fond of it. We will sample it at our leisure and let you know our judgement.”
Harald took a step forward. “Lady,” he said, “the wine is a strong one and is at its best when mixed with honey and spices that come from the region where the grapes are grown. We have also brought these with us. The preparation must be made with a delicate hand, and if it is your pleasure, I would show your butler how to do it for your first sampling. I had hoped to have the honour of doing that for you tonight, for I have need to leave Lincoln town on urgent business as soon as the May Day festivities are over.” He gestured to Ivor. “My brother, unfortunately, has not yet sufficient skill to take my place.”
Nicolaa frowned, making a pretence of considering the suggestion. “Tonight is not a good time, Master Harald,” she said. “My son is not here and, as I said, it was for his delectation that I ordered the Granarde. Besides,” she gestured to the cup that sat beside her trencher, “I have already taken my fill of wine for this evening. I do not have a fancy for more, no matter how excellent the taste.”
“Then may I proffer my services for tomorrow, instead?” Harald said. “I would gladly rearrange the schedule for my departure to accommodate you.”
Nicolaa laughed. “I see you hope that a good order will follow this wine sampling.”
“Since I know the excellence of the wine, lady, I think my hope is fully justified,” Harald said with assurance.
Nicolaa rose from her seat. “Very well. Make it mid-morning, after the procession is under way. If the wine proves to be as palatable as you say, I may even extend you an invitation to share in the feast that will be held in the evening and, of course, to share in the wine. You have my permission for both of you to attend us here tomorrow for the purpose of this tasting.”
As she began to descend from the dais, Harald thanked her and then added, with a show of obsequiousness, “Lady, may I ask one more boon?”
“You may ask, merchant, but it remains to be seen if I will grant it,” Nicolaa said impatiently.
“The tun of wine I brought tonight, and the spices and honey with which to serve it-I have left them outside in the ward. May they remain here overnight, in your safe-keeping, until the morrow? It will save us the task of taking them away and bringing them back again.”
Nicolaa waved her hand dismissively. “Of course. Give them into the charge of my butler. He will see to their storage.”
Harald bowed once again as she left the room, then he and Ivor went to the back of the hall and spoke to Eudo. The steward had heard his mistress’s command and quickly summoned the castle butler to direct the placing of the wine, honey and spices in the buttery. Bascot gave a secret smile of satisfaction. Just as in the staging of a mystery play, the scene was now set. Would Mauger take the bait they had dangled before him?
Thirty-five
Later that evening, Mauger gave thought AS to whether or not he should take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself that afternoon. He recalled the moment that Ivor Severtsson had walked into the hall and how he had been almost blinded with hate for the man. He had listened to the ensuing conversation between Nicolaa de la Haye and Severtsson’s merchant brother with distraction, the intensity of his rage overcoming his ability to focus on anything other than the bailiff.
Only when he realised that the wine Harold Severtsson was requesting the castellan to taste was to be flavoured with honey had his attention at last been diverted to the arrangements that were being made. As a small tun of the merchant’s wine was brought in and placed in the buttery, a capacious room just off the hall that was used for the storage of wine and ale, his speculation about how it could further his aim had begun. When Harald had followed the servant who was carrying the barrel with a jar of honey and a bag of spices in his arms, it had grown even further, especially when the butler had directed the merchant to place the condiments on top of the tun and leave them in the buttery.
The honey pot was of the same shape and design as the ones that were stored in Reinbald’s kitchen, and identical to the pots that Mauger had exchanged for those laden with poison. All were made by Wilkin and bore the Templar mark. Harald Severtsson must have decanted some of the foreign honey into a pot from his aunt’s store; it was a reasonable action, especially if the honey that had accompanied the wine had been in a larger container and he wanted to bring only enough to prepare the wine. Harald had said he was supplying the wine for the sampling free of cost, and a canny merchant did not willingly give away more of his wares than he needed to.
It would not be an easy matter to replace the honey that the merchant had brought for one laced with the poison. The buttery’s close placement to the confines of the hall would make it overlooked all night by the servants and knights that slept on the floor of the large open space, including the butler, who made up his pallet within the buttery itself. But in the early part of the morning, just after the night’s fast had been broken, Mauger might have an opportunity to enter the buttery undetected, at the time when the entire castle household went out into the bail to watch the selection of the queen of May.
For the space of an hour he wondered if it was worth the risk before finally deciding it was. There seemed to be no doubt that everyone considered the potter to be guilty of the crimes that had been committed; there would be no suspicion that the poisoner would strike again, not until after Nicolaa de la Haye and Richard Camville lay writhing on the floor in fatal agony, while the sheriff watched in horror. It was even possible that the merchant would drink some himself, but if he did not, it was most likely that, instead of the potter, the finger of guilt would now be pointed at Harald Severtsson; the brother of the man that Mauger hated most of all. The sheriff would be terrible in his wrath; he might even take his sword to Ivor’s brother without the nicety of a trial. The poisoner suppressed a grim smile. All of those he had sworn would pay for Drue’s and his father’s deaths would, at one stroke, suffer the same agonies of grief they had inflicted on him. Once that happened, he could watch their torment at leisure until he deemed the time had come for them, too, to pay the ultimate penalty for their sins. It would be a fine spectacle to witness.
Thirty-six
To the relief of everyone within the bail, the next morning dawned with a clear sky and somewhat pale, but sparkling, sunshine. The louring clouds and rumbles of distant thunder that had started the previous afternoon had been swept away to the east and replaced by the promise of a bright spring day for the festivities.
All of the castle servants were up early, hastening to complete their duties so that the celebrations could commence. A four-wheeled wain that was to be used as transport for the queen of May had been dragged into the bail the day before, and a huge tree trunk had been erected by the eastern gate for use as a maypole. Once their chores were over, the servants would assemble in the ward to watch Nicolaa preside over the election of the May queen, then the new monarch would select female attendants from among those girls who had been less fortunate. When all was in readiness, the service honouring the two apostles would be held, and then the procession would start, led by the wain that carried the queen of May and her coterie of companions.