A Plague of Poison Read Online Free Page B

her attendant, Clare, spoke quietly to her mistress. “You were sleeping, lady, when the maid came with the cake,” she told her. “I knew your throat had become very sore, and you were having difficulty swallowing. I did not think you would be able to eat any of the cake, so I told the maid to take it away.”

    “But Gosbert says she did not return it to the kitchen. Do you know what she did with it?”

    “Yes, I do,” Clare replied, her voice tremulous. “I thought the clerks in the scriptorium might enjoy it, so I told her to take it there.”

    Nicolaa looked at her secretary. “Was this cake there when you returned and found Ralf ill, Master Blund?”

    “No, lady,” Blund replied, “it was not, but there was an empty platter in the chamber. If that is the same one on which the cake was served, then it had been consumed while I was absent.”

    “And, since your clerk was in the scriptorium alone yesterday morning, it would be logical to assume that he was the one that ate it?” Nicolaa persisted.

    Blund nodded his head sadly. “Yes, lady. He would have done. He had an especial liking for sweet confections.”

    Martin leaned forward and said triumphantly, “And it would appear that only Sir Simon and the clerk were served food or drink which contained honey that came from this pot. If it has become tainted in some way, then I am correct. Food from the kitchen was the cause of these deaths.”

    The horrified silence that followed his words was broken by Thomas, who leapt forward and would have attacked both Gosbert and Eric with his fists if de Laubrec had not grabbed the lad and restrained him. “I knew I was right about the wine,” the squire shouted as he struggled against the knight’s viselike grip. ” Those filthy cooks poisoned Sir Simon!”

    A babble of voices broke out in agreement. Bascot stood up and gave a stern command for order. As the room fell silent, he said, “It would seem that it is possible—and I repeat, only possible—that we have discovered a substance that may have been the cause of these deaths. The honey must be tested before we can be certain.”

    With a glance at Nicolaa for a nod of permission, he came down from the dais and onto the floor of the hall and called to Ernulf. The serjeant came forward at once. “We will need the help of Thorey, the castle rat catcher, for this task,” Bascot said to him. “Have one of your men fetch him and tell him to bring one of the live rats he uses to train his dogs to the bail, and wait outside the entrance to the kitchen.”

    He motioned to Gosbert. “You will then take the cook to the kitchen and have him show you the pot of honey that he used, and bring it and some bread on which to smear it, to the catcher. We will have Thorey feed it to the rat and see if it dies. That should prove whether or not the honey is at the root of this mysterious illness.”

    As Ernulf left the hall to carry out the instructions he had been given, Nicolaa came down from the dais and accompanied Bascot in leading the group from the hall.

    It was another fair day outside. A shower of rain had fallen earlier, but it had been brief and the ground was only slightly damp underfoot. Thorey had answered the summons quickly and was waiting for them outside the building that housed the castle kitchen. He was a small man, with sunken cheeks and a sharp nose, and was wrapped in a cape made from rat skins. On his head was a peaked cap of the same material. In one hand he held a metal cage containing a large black rat, and at his feet were two small dogs of a terrier breed; both were white in colour and had contrasting dark patches of fur about their ears and eyes. They watched intently as their master set the cage containing the rat on the ground, with their ears pricked and bodies alert as they waited for Thorey to loose the rodent and give the command to kill.

    When Ernulf arrived with the honey pot, a container that held about two pounds of the