They stood silently for a moment, looking down on the vegetable gardens inside the wall, which belonged to the houses in Rock Lane. To their right loomed the huge mass of the cathedral, and elsewhere within the walls, tightly packed houses of all shapes and sizes threw up smoke into the evening sky, punctuated by the towers of the fourteen churches.
‘I don’t understand all this, John,’ she said, at length.
He began to explain the complexities of the day. ‘Allegedly the silversmith was going to appeal Edgar for attempted murder, according to de Revelle, though I don’t know whether to believe him. Then, when Edgar was about to have a false confession burned out of him, Nicholas couldn’t bear it and confessed himself.’
Nesta squeezed his arm. ‘He must have been very fond of the lad, to give his life for him.’
‘I think many apprentices brew up a father-feeling in their masters. Anyway, the bloody sheriff couldn’t lose – he says he knew that Nicholas would confess before Edgar was tortured, but again I don’t believe him. I think he was just lucky, for if he had branded Edgar, Joseph would have gone berserk and caused much trouble for de Revelle.’ He paused and hugged her tightly. ‘If the apothecary had stayed silent, Edgar would have made a false confession and been convicted. Now the sheriff has Nicholas instead, but I don’t think he cares who it is, as long as he has someone.’
They turned and looked over the new battlements, away from the city to the south and east. Almost thirty feet up, they could see for several miles across country, their eyes following the diverging roads to Topsham and Honiton. Just below them were hedged fields going down into the little valley of the Shitbrook, named since Saxon times for the town’s effluent that escaped under the wall into the stream.
‘What exactly did Nicholas confess to, John?’ asked Nesta.
‘He said that he had put extract of wolfsbane, sometimes called monkshood, in the wine he gave Fitzosbern. It should have killed him, but presumably he didn’t swallow enough.’
John’s mistress shivered a little, he wasn’t sure if from the cold or the thought of being poisoned.
‘So his so-called test for poison was false?’
John gave a lop-sided grin. ‘The jest was on me, my love. Only a fool like me would take a suspected poison to the poisoner for analysis!’
‘He never gave the cat or rat any of it, then,’ she said.
‘No, and his dramatic gesture of drinking the suspect wine was play-acting. He’d naturally emptied the poisoned chalice and refilled it with good liquor.’
‘But he couldn’t have known that the silversmith was going to come to his shop that day,’ she objected.
‘It must have been an opportunity taken on the spur of the moment. He hated the man and here was a chance to dispatch him. It could have been attributed to the effects of his neck wound, in which case the blame would have fallen on Hugh Ferrars. I’m sure the last thing Nicholas contemplated was that his apprentice would be accused.’
They walked on further towards the mass of the South Gate, above fields of Southernhay.
‘And you said that he did it because Fitzosbern was virtually blackmailing him?’
A gust of wind moaned from the east and John pulled his black leather hood more tightly on to his head. The long point at the back balanced his great hooked nose and made him look more than ever like some great bird of prey.
‘It was like this. Nicholas claims that Fitzosbern was the father of Adele’s child. She had been seduced by him when she visited to order her wedding jewels. Nicholas says that he boasted that Adele wasn’t at all keen on Hugh Ferrars, it was to be a marriage of convenience forced on her by her father.’
‘A seduction by Fitzosbern of one of his lady customers – that surely must have a counterpart with poor Christina?’ said Nesta worriedly.
The coroner shrugged. ‘That’s another matter. God knows, there’ll be trouble in plenty when the first part becomes known to the Ferrars family and de Courcy – whether it’s true or not!’
They reached the mass of red masonry that was the side of the South Gate, under which was the town gaol run by the burgesses. Instead of going down the steps to the ground, John and Nesta turned and strolled slowly back the way they had come.
‘I still don’t follow why Nicholas wanted to kill Fitzosbern. He seems such a weedy, inoffensive man, a bit like his apprentice.’
‘When Adele came, at Bearded Lucy’s suggestion, to see Nicholas, he refused to consider interfering with her womb. He told her he had had terrible trouble in the past because of that and had sworn never to help women again.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Adele went in desperation to Fitzosbern, saying that if she had the child – or even when her swelling was noticed, as it soon must be – there would be a scandal that would undoubtedly swallow him up as well. It would probably cost him his life, if she knew the Ferrars, she said. So he came to Nicholas and threatened him with exposure and ruin if he refused to procure Adele’s miscarriage.’ Nesta stopped and turned against John, burrowing under his cloak to cling tightly to him, her head against his chest. ‘How could he ruin him?’ she asked, her voice muffled as she cuddled up to him.
‘Nicholas had for a long time been trying to advance himself in the Guild of Apothecaries, but Fitzosbern, as a senior guild-master in Devon, had been opposing him. He even tried to get him thrown out of the guild, which would mean he could no longer stay in business.’
She raised her pretty round face, but still clung to him. It was a welcome change to get away from the tavern and have him to herself. Dallying with a fellow in the twilight made her remember the carefree days of her youth, even though, that was little more than a decade ago. She spun out the time by keeping the story going, though, as an ardent if discreet busybody, she was keen to hear it anyway.
John pulled her tightly to him and carried on with the tale. ‘In looking into Nicholas’s worthiness for being a guild member, Fitzosbern sought opinions from other masters all over the West Country. He found that the leech had been forced to leave Bristol some years ago, because he was under suspicion for being an abortionist.’
‘Nicholas admitted all this?’ Nesta sounded incredulous.
‘He had no choice, once he was launched on his confession. He knew he was doomed so he seemed ready to expurgate himself. Fitzosbern discovered that he had run away from Bristol, evading appeals from damaged women and their families – and the indignation of his fellow apothecaries. He lay low for a year or two, then appeared here in Exeter.’
The Welsh woman shivered again and they began walking back towards the steps near the Water Gate. ‘So unless Nicholas did the deed for Adele, Godfrey threatened to expose his past sins in Bristol?’ she observed.
‘Yes, he had little choice. Though with those elm slips in his shop, I wonder if he is as innocent as he makes out. Maybe he helps other women in Exeter, too. Anyway, the attempt went horribly wrong and she died, which gave Fitzosbern an even greater hold over him.’
‘What actually happened to poor Adele?’
‘He wasn’t very forthcoming on that, but it seems there was massive bleeding almost straight away. She had come to his shop after he had sent Edgar home for the night. He emphasised that, to keep the lad in the clear, and I believe him.’
‘So how did the body get to St Bartholomew’s churchyard?’
As they started down the steep steps, John going in front in case she slipped on the uneven stones, he replied, ‘The lady died of a bloody flux within the hour, he said. He waited until after midnight, then took his pony from the stall in his garden and draped the body over its back, covered with a blanket. He led it through the small lanes in Bretayne where few people are likely to ask questions, then slid it off behind the wall of St Bartholomew’s.’