‘What was his idea?’
‘He must have eventually worked out that the miners escaped by water so what does he do? Uses his brains for once. He goes to question the only waterman around.’
‘And did he admit to anything?’ Wondering what would come next Hildegard could only stare at Edmund in dread willing the words out of him.
But he gave a sudden smile. ‘To his eternal credit he just kept pointing to some wounds inflicted earlier saying, “I know nothing, sire. First, a fellow asks me to keep quiet about I know not what, and beats me up to make sure I do. Then you, sire, ask me to talk, and threaten to burn my cottage if I don’t. How is a man to cope? I know nothing of any importance, sire. I’m just a lowly ferryman. What is it I’m supposed to preach forth and at the same time keep to myself? Solomon himself couldn’t reach an answer. Especially as I know nothing of any interest to anybody but me and my sweetheart.” That gave Fitzjohn something to think about. “Who asked you to keep your mouth shut?” Answer, “I’d give a king’s ransom to find out, sire.” ’
Edmund was acting it out. Now he rubbed his hands together in an obsequious manner and asked in a quavering voice, not, to be honest, at all like the ferryman’s robust tones. ‘“And what, pray, have I not to say, my lord? I wish someone would tell me. And again, sire, what is it you wish to know? Guide me, I pray.” ’
In his own voice he said, ‘Now I know what a liar looks like when he’s exercising his skill. Truth to say there was a certain nobility in the constancy of his lie.’
A wave of relief washed over Hildegard and she said, ‘The miners must have impressed him in some way even though neither side speaks the other’s tongue.’
‘Taillefer would translate.’
‘That must be it. They must have recognised each other as brothers against the tyranny of the nobles.’
‘He did sterling work for us, that ferryman. I trust his sweetheart welcomes him with open arms. And Taillefer…he gave his life.’ Edmund’s words caught in his throat but his face was set in stone. His eyes were moist.
**
Poison. An apothecary’s job was to know about it.
‘The magister is quite well, thanks to your potion, master. But I myself feel a little unwell. I wonder what you’d suggest?’
‘Symptoms, domina?’
‘A tightness in my lungs. Cold feet and hands.’
He turned to the shelf of ready-made cures in the coloured demijohns with their Latin labels ranged in an orderly fashion on the wall behind him.
After a brief consideration he took one down. While he poured a small amount of something like tincture of lung wort through a funnel into a clay pot she wondered how on earth she was going to find anything out from him. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to know. One way to start was to find out where the poison that had been in the dagger was being kept.
Then she remembered the small silver talisman he had given her to hand over to Athanasius. She had forgotten it until now. It was where she had first put it, inside her sleeve. She managed to find it and pull it out. There was no-one else around so she placed it carefully on the counter.
The apothecary noticed at once and covered it with his palm. In a low voice he asked, ‘What does he require, domina?’
‘Reassurance that a certain cure is safely disposed of.’
‘Awaiting future use?’ He chuckled with the assurance of a man who holds the lives of others in his gift. He leaned forward. ‘I believe we are only waiting for the terms of barter to be fulfilled then your English lord may take his prize.’
‘That may be some time,’ she murmured, also leaning forward. ‘My lord Fitzjohn is facing a slight problem.’
‘So I understand. It is said he may soon find an alternative. It is hoped the problem will be solved to the satisfaction of all parties.’
‘And I trust the gift from his Holiness will keep its potency until the matter is settled?’
‘Have no fear.’
‘You have a suitable place in which to conceal it?’
The apothecary gave an involuntary glance behind him towards the small chamber where he had taken her on their first meeting. The door was closed, perhaps locked.
‘Tell the magister he can trust me with his life and with anything else, including the means to end it.’ He smiled knowingly.
‘He will be overjoyed to hear it.’
He inched the silver talisman back to her with the tip of one finger nail.
**
In order to thwart Woodstock’s plot, if indeed her hunch was correct about that, someone would have to obtain the poison themselves. Maybe a substitute could be put in its place and when the barter was made, if Fitzjohn managed to find something the pope would accept in exchange, then it might be applied with no harm befalling the victim. God save King Richard.
There was no-one she could share her plan with and no way of carrying it out - unless she could get inside the apothecary’s private store - and see to it herself.
**
In the privacy of her chamber she rooted through her bag of cures until she found something that might do. It was a harmless recipe for indigestion. Its murky colour wouldn’t matter as she expected the real poison to be in a sealed clay pot by now.
To use the lung wort he had prescribed might lead back to her so for safety she rinsed it out in her washing bowl and emptied the water into the drain.
Next she removed the label, hoping she was second-guessing the apothecary accurately, and replaced the pot in her scrip before trying to work out how she was going to swap them.
**
Athanasius was sitting up at his lectern as usual.
‘Feeling quite well now, magister?’ she greeted as cheerfully as she could.
‘I am indeed, domina, despite this endless bad weather. I must say it cheers me somewhat. It makes me feel at home.’ He was evidently in a good humour. He turned a benign smile on her. ‘I hear our countryman Fitzjohn has been taking some exercise?’
‘I heard. Will he be censured?’
The monk chuckled. ‘He is an honoured guest of his Holiness. Who would dare?’
‘What happened to the ferryman, does anyone know?’
‘Took to the river in his boat. He’ll be washed up far downstream, no doubt. More bloated than when he went in.’
She concealed a shiver. ‘What was their quarrel?’
‘Don’t you know?’ He expressed mock surprise. ‘And here am I, relying on you to keep me fully informed.’
‘I am failed in my duty, magister, mea culpa.’
He seemed pleased to be one up on her. ‘It was Cardinal Grizac who told me. They say the ferryman helped two of Fitzjohn’s retainers to escape back to England. Of course, the ferryman denies it but how else could they have got away without being hunted down by the search party that went out after they fled.’
‘Maybe they’re lying low in the town, magister? Has anybody thought of that?’
He sniffed. ‘The Jewish church was thoroughly searched as a matter of course. Villains often use it as sanctuary. It’s a sore. It should be cleansed.’
‘At least by keeping it open you know where villains are likely to hide.’
‘Shrewdly observed, domina. I suspect that is the intention of his Holiness in allowing it to remain open.’
‘That and the convenience of being able to borrow at interest without compromising the law against usury?’
He dismissed that with an irritable wave of his hand. ‘And now the good news. Cardinal Grizac has returned to the palace to amuse us.’
Hildegard offered a dutiful smile.