I had not measured a precise amount of the lettuce seed when I filled the pouch, just poured a handful in and sent it off to the castle. So I was required to cast my mind back two days to recall how much of the crushed seed I had placed in the pouch. I was certain that more than a thimbleful was gone. Lord Gilbert saw me frown as I peered into the pouch to examine its contents.
“You are troubled, Hugh.”
“Much of what I placed in the pouch is missing.”
“How much?” Sir Roger asked.
“Half, I should think.”
“Enough to poison a man?” Lord Gilbert asked.
“Nay.”
I turned again to Walter. “Did any other require an aid to sleep? Did some other man ask for some of the sleeping potion? Or woman?”
“Nay,” he shook his head. “None that I’ve heard of.”
Just then we heard footsteps approaching and the rustle of clothing in the corridor. Lady Margery and two of her ladies appeared, garbed in somber cotehardies of brown, and the Lady Margery veiled.
Sir Henry’s wife stared through her veil for a moment, as if the obstruction to her vision caused her to misjudge who stood before her. She finally fixed her eyes upon Lord Gilbert and spoke.
“’Tis not meet for my husband to go unwashed to the grave. Has this miscreant leech finished with Sir Henry?”
Lord Gilbert looked to me for a reply. “Aye, I have done here,” I said.
“I should hope so,” Lady Margery hissed. “You have already done quite enough.”
Then, before I or any man could react, Lady Margery lunged for me. Her fingernails scored my cheek.
Lord Gilbert hastened to my defense. He grasped Lady Margery’s arms and pinned them to her side. “M’lady, Master Hugh did not poison Sir Henry. Your husband was murdered. Master Hugh has shown how ’twas done. Sir Roger and I are convinced that Master Hugh speaks true and has discovered here an evil felony.”
I put a finger to my cheek and it came away bloody.
“Bah, what man wished to take my husband’s life? A groom or valet? Sir John or Sir Geoffrey? A squire? Or mayhap one of your men? Absurd.”
Lady Margery eyed the pouch in my hand. “’Twas that potion which murdered Sir Henry.”
“My instruction,” I replied, “was to give Sir Henry a thimbleful of the crushed seeds, but more than that is gone from the pouch… perhaps half of what I sent.”
“You sent some herbs so hazardous that taking a larger dose would put an end to him?”
“Nay. He might have consumed the entire contents of the pouch and yet awakened next morn.”
Through the veil I saw the woman’s disbelief, so continued. “Mixing half of the contents of the pouch into his wine might have sent Sir Henry to a deep sleep, but would not have caused death.”
The skeptical look did not leave Lady Margery’s eyes, so I decided upon a measure which would prove my assertion. I asked Uctred to seek the buttery and bring a cup of wine.
Lord Gilbert peered at me from under a raised eyebrow.
“I will prove to m’lady that crushed seeds of lettuce, even taken in immoderate measure, will not send a man to his death.”
“How will you do so?”
“I will consume what remains of the potion.”
“Nay, Master Hugh. You must not do so. Perhaps some other substance has befouled the potion, unknown to you.”
“I keep my remedies secure and clean of contaminants.”
“But what if some man mixed some poisonous herb into the contents of the pouch?” Lord Gilbert said.
The thought gave me pause. I poured a generous amount of the pounded seeds into my palm and inspected the stuff closely. I am familiar with the appearance of pounded lettuce seeds, as the powder is one I use often to aid sleep when a man is injured or in pain. I saw in my palm nothing to indicate the crushed lettuce seeds had been adulterated.
The buttery was close by, down a stairway at the end of the corridor and adjacent to the hall through the screens passage. Uctred returned promptly with a cup of wine. Lord Gilbert, Sir Roger, Lady Margery, and the others crowded into the chamber watched silently as I emptied the pouch into the cup, then drank the coarse concoction in one prolonged gulp. I confess that, as I swallowed, I had a worrisome thought that perhaps Lord Gilbert was correct, and somehow my pots and vials and flasks had become confused upon the shelves and in the chest where I store them.
I placed the empty cup upon the table and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. The others remained silent and motionless, as if they expected me to swoon before their eyes. Only the Lady Margery seemed to watch with anticipation. The others seemed apprehensive.
“I put but a thimbleful of the powder into Sir Henry’s wine,” Walter said, breaking the silence. “’Twas not near what he has taken.”
“Then how,” Sir Roger asked, “did near half of the stuff disappear? This fellow said he gave Sir Henry but a thimbleful, as he was told to do, but Master Hugh says but half of the potion remains.” The sheriff looked to Walter. “Where did you leave the pouch after you had prepared Sir Henry’s draught?”
“There, on the table, where it now rests.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Gilbert said, “Sir Henry thought the draught too weak, and took more. Did you see him drink what you had prepared?”
“Aye, m’lord. Drank it straight down, ’e did.”
“Was there any wine remaining in his cup?” I asked.
“Dunno. Don’t think so. He tilted the cup so’s to drink it all.”
“How then did he consume more of the potion?” Lord Gilbert mused. “Did he eat it, mayhap?”
“I doubt so,” I said. “The seeds of lettuce are bitter. And we do not know that he did take more of the potion. Perhaps someone else swallowed a part of it.”
“But who?” Sir Roger asked. “Was there another,” he looked to Lady Margery, “who was troubled in the night so they could not fall to sleep?”
Lady Margery shook her veiled head and replied, “What difference if half the potion did not stop his breath?”
“Aye,” Lord Gilbert said. “What difference?”
“I will tell you tomorrow,” I said. “As for now, ’tis near the twelfth hour, I wish to return to Galen House, and Lady Margery wishes to prepare her husband for burial.”
“You will return on the morrow to seek a murderer?” Sir Roger asked.
“Aye. I will be well rested for the work.”
Galen House and my bed loomed large in my thoughts as I passed under the castle portcullis and set out for Bridge Street and home. I had rarely dosed myself with even a thimbleful of crushed lettuce seeds, as sleep generally comes readily to me. I had no experience at consuming so great a portion of the herb. I did not pause at the bridge over Shill Brook, as I often do when no pressing business calls, for worry I might succumb to sleep while gazing into the flowing water and tumble into the stream.
I had forgotten my scratched cheek. When I arrived at my home and Kate saw me her eyes went wide and she asked what had befallen me. I told her of Lady Margery’s anger, and for a moment thought she was about to strike out for the castle to avenge me.
“The woman must be forgiven,” I said. “She is a new widow and does not see things as they are.”
“But folk will see your cheek and think I have done this.”
“Those who know us will know you would not do such a thing to your husband, and that I would not treat you so as to give you cause. Why should we care what others will think?”
Kate was not much pleased when she learned what I had done to prove to Lady Margery that Sir Henry’s sleeping draught could not have caused his death.
“What am I to do,” she asked, “if you fall to sleep upon the table while eating your supper?”
“Carry me up to our bed,” I said in jest.
“You like my cookery too well. You are no longer the slender youth I wed.”
“Am I grown fat?”
Kate frowned and assumed a thoughtful air. “Not yet,” she said.
“But if you continue to feed me with mushroom tarts and coney pies and roasted capons I soon will be, eh?”