A Plague of Poison Read Online Free Page A

rest of us. It was soon after he had lain down for his night’s rest that I was woken by the sound of his purging, and shortly afterwards he was dead.”

    Thomas’s voice faltered slightly as he said the last words, but he kept his composure and turned to face the cook and his assistant. “I have been thinking about it ever since. If, as the leech says, it was something Sir Simon ate or drank that killed him, it could only have been the wine. And he was the one,” the squire pointed an accusing finger at Eric, “who gave me the flagon.”

    A murmur rose amongst the spectators, and Eric stepped back a pace in stunned surprise. “But … but, it could not have been the wine,” he protested. “The cask was one that had been broached two days before. It has been served to Sir Simon, and others, throughout all the meals that have been prepared.”

    “It was only after he drank the wine that he complained of pains in his stomach and began to purge,” the squire maintained stubbornly.

    “Even if the wine had soured, Thomas,” Bascot said patiently, “it is unlikely it would have done more than make Sir Simon queasy. It certainly would not have caused his death.”

    “Besides, Thomas,” de Laubrec interjected, “I drank the same wine as Haukwell, and as you can see, it did not make me ill.”

    The squire’s response was quick. “But, Sir Gilles, you had wine that had not been sweetened. I brought Sir Simon the honeyed wine in a separate flagon from the others.” Again he pointed at Eric. “That scullion could have poured the wine into a filthy jug or mixed it with honey that had turned putrid.” As he spoke, Thomas was growing more and more heated, frustrated by the obvious scepticism of Bascot and de Laubrec, but he drew a deep breath and continued doggedly. “Sir Simon was in good health and spirits until he drank the wine,” he insisted, “so it must have been the cause of his sickness.”

    Despite the doubting looks that had appeared on the faces of those who were listening, Martin gave his support to the squire’s assertion. “Although it is true that neither wine nor honey is likely to deteriorate into a state of such foulness, Thomas makes a valid point in saying that the containers in which they were served, or had been kept, could have been tainted.” The leech glared at the cook and his assistant. “Slovenly habits are often the cause of sickness. A dead mouse in the wine tun or insects in the honey—all manner of pernicious substances can invade the area where food is prepared if it is not properly overseen. The squire’s charge could well have merit.”

    Eric was quick to defend himself, although his voice shook slightly as he spoke. “The flagon was clean,” he insisted. “And so is the rest of the kitchen. Master Gosbert would not allow it to be otherwise. And some of the honey with which I sweetened the wine had already been consumed. It could not have been tainted.”

    “What Eric says is true,” Gosbert confirmed, drawing himself up to his full short height and returning Martin’s glare. “I do not allow laxity in the kitchen. I am most particular that all of the work surfaces and the vessels we use are scoured regularly. And, as for the honey,” he turned his eyes to Nicolaa and said confidently, “lady, it was your own good self that had already eaten some. It was in the marchpane I laid atop the simnel cake I sent to your chamber. It was from a new jar that I opened especially to make the topping and must have been wholesome, otherwise it would have made you ill as well.”

    Nicolaa’s brows drew down into a frown. “Simnel cake? I have had none such.”

    The cook took a step towards his mistress, his speech earnest now. “But I sent one of the serving maids up to your chamber yesterday morning, early, with a platter on which it was laid. The maid did not bring the cake back; if you did not eat it, somebody else must have.”

    At Nicolaa’s look of confusion,