‘I was going to propose a toast,’ Langelee said, shooting Elyan an admonishing look for his greed. He pressed a goblet into Bartholomew’s hand, although the last thing the physician felt like doing was drinking in cosy bonhomie with the visitors from Suffolk.
‘To justice and pigs?’ suggested Luneday, raising his vessel.
‘And camp-ball,’ added Langelee with a grin, returning the salute.
The others raised their goblets obligingly, and everyone was in the process of putting them to their lips when Elyan gave a cry and gripped his throat. The cup fell from his hand, and he dropped to his knees.
‘What is wrong with him?’ cried Agnys, hurrying to his side.
Bartholomew was there before her. He tried to hold Elyan still, but the lord of the manor was thrashing about violently. It did not need a physician to know he had been poisoned.
‘But this wine came from the kitchens,’ shouted Langelee defensively, when everyone looked at him. ‘It was delivered earlier today – a gift from Bartholomew’s sister.’
‘My sister is not in the habit of providing us with wine,’ said Bartholomew, struggling to keep Elyan still so he could examine him. ‘Only cakes.’
‘Gosse,’ muttered Michael grimly. ‘Is this what he meant when he said he had something planned for us? I assumed he had set his sights on St Mary the Great.’
‘Do something,’ cried Agnys, gripping Bartholomew’s shoulder hard. ‘Help him!’
But Bartholomew was already thrusting fingers down Elyan’s throat to make him vomit up what he had swallowed – he had watched Margery, d’Audley, Risleye and Tesdale die within the past few hours, and had had enough of feeling helpless in the face of death. He was not losing anyone else.
Elyan retched violently, and when he leaned back, exhausted by the effort, Bartholomew made him sick again. And again. Eventually, when he thought all or most of the toxin had been expelled, he wiped Elyan’s face with a clean cloth and helped him sit comfortably.
‘It is a pity to die now,’ rasped Elyan, tears flowing down his cheeks. ‘Just when everything is going my way. Wynewyk dead, Luneday to inherit my manor – he will not harm me for a few gems.’
But Bartholomew knew, from the colour that was beginning to trickle back into Elyan’s face, that the worst was over. ‘You are not going to–’ he began.
‘It is ironic to die of poison left by Gosse,’ interrupted Elyan, with a weak but bitter smile. ‘You see, Carbo found the diamonds in my mine, but Gosse said they were his – stolen from him by Carbo when he lived in Clare. He was very insistent, but I did not believe him. Perhaps I should have done.’
Bartholomew recalled that both Hilton and Prior John had mentioned Gosse’s purloined sack, the contents of which Gosse had declined to reveal. ‘You are not going to–’
Elyan cut across him a second time. ‘I told Neubold to pass some to potential investors. Namely Wynewyk and King’s Hall. But I kept most – the biggest and best – for myself.’
‘You kept precious stones that Gosse thinks are his?’ asked Hilton uneasily. ‘That was reckless.’
Bartholomew tried a third time to tell Elyan he was going to recover, sure he would not be baring his soul if he knew he would live. ‘The poison is not–’
But Michael jabbed him in the ribs. ‘We need answers,’ he hissed urgently.’ Do not interrupt him – lives depend on it.’
‘It would only have been reckless if Gosse knew I kept them,’ Elyan was rasping to Hilton. ‘But he does not. I told him they had all been given to scholars in Cambridge. So he came here to find them. But then someone pilfered the sack from me.’
‘So you were right, Matt,’ murmured Michael. ‘Gosse and Idoma really were asking for the whereabouts of something specific. I thought it was a ruse, to confuse me.’
‘Joan!’ exclaimed Hilton, somewhat out of the blue. ‘She took them! She told me she had vital business in Cambridge – important enough to risk her child on a journey. She must have realised these stones were going to cause trouble, so she brought them here.’
‘Why would she do that?’ demanded Luneday. ‘Why not keep them for herself – for her child?’
‘Because she was a sensible lady,’ replied Hilton softly. ‘She would not have been so credulous as to believe that Carbo had found diamonds in Haverhill – she would have been sceptical. Opportunities to travel are few and far between in our village, so she took advantage of the only one available: she came to Cambridge with Neubold, intending to hide them here.’
‘That explains why she chose this town,’ acknowledged Agnys. ‘It also explains why she was unhappy these last few weeks – it would have been a terrible burden, knowing Henry had property belonging to Gosse and that these stones might urge powerful foundations and greedy men to desperate measures to acquire them. But not why she felt compelled to transport the wretched things in the first place.’
‘It is obvious,’ said Michael. ‘The mine has produced no gems, and getting rid of the ones Carbo “found” – the big ones Elyan kept for himself – means Haverhill has none left. She probably had a plan to show King’s Hall and Wynewyk that Elyan Manor has nothing worth fighting for – and therefore nothing worth harming her child for, either. Unfortunately, her plan misfired.’
‘Oh, Henry,’ said Agnys, gazing at her grandson with sad eyes. ‘How could you have been so foolish? All these deaths – including Joan’s – and for what? Jewels stolen from the Gosses, that were never on Elyan Manor in the first place!’
‘They were!’ asserted Elyan weakly. ‘Carbo would not have lied to me.’
‘Not lied, no,’ agreed Agnys. ‘He did not have the wit. But that does not mean his tale was true.’
But Elyan was not listening to her. His gaze was fixed on Bartholomew. ‘Wynewyk was an evil man. He sent his student to spy on the mine, and someone killed the boy. God forgive me, I buried his body in the woods. But worse than that, Wynewyk killed Joan. I have thought long and hard, and I understand what happened now. He poisoned her.’
‘No!’ said Bartholomew, ignoring Tesdale’s tale about Wynewyk taking pennyroyal from his storeroom. ‘You have no evidence to make such a terrible accusation.’
‘Actually, he might have,’ said Langelee quietly. ‘Because of something I saw on the day she died – namely Wynewyk giving her a phial and telling her it would make her baby strong. I had forgotten about it until now. He was congratulating her, saying what a bonny child it would be, but there was a certain look in his eye … It was one I have often observed in men about to commit a crime.’
‘There!’ exclaimed Elyan weakly. ‘I knew it! You see, you were right – her child was not mine. But Wynewyk met her when he came to buy pigs…’
‘He did visit me in February,’ acknowledged Luneday uncomfortably. ‘But I had no idea he went to Haverhill and seduced Joan at the same time.’
‘He flirted outrageously with her in the Market Square,’ added Langelee. ‘As your sister will attest, too. He preferred men, but he knew how to charm the ladies, as well.’
‘Enough!’ cried Bartholomew, when Elyan opened his mouth to say something else. ‘You are not dying. There is no need to pursue this horrible matter any further.’
Michael grimaced his annoyance that the discussion was to be cut short, while Elyan just stared at the physician. Bartholomew braced himself for anger at the deceit, but instead the Suffolk lordling’s eyes filled with tears. He groped for Agnys’s hand, and gripped it hard, and Bartholomew indicated the onlookers were to move away, to give them privacy.