A Plague of Poison (20 page)
The potter fell to his knees in the small, cramped cell and, clasping his hands together as tightly as he could, once again sent a desperate prayer heavenward for mercy, beseeching God to look with kindly eyes on the plight of himself and his family.
I
T WAS LATE In THE EVENING BEFORE ROGET HAD A chance to go to the castle and tell Bascot what he had learned about Ivor Severtsson. When he finished repeating the tale the harlot had recounted, he hawked and spat as though Severtsson’s name had fouled his mouth. “I reckon that whoreson of a bailiff could easily be guilty of raping the potter’s girl,” he said to Bascot. “If I ever find him abroad in Lincoln on a dark night, his features won’t be so well-favoured when he wakes up in the morning.”
T WAS LATE In THE EVENING BEFORE ROGET HAD A chance to go to the castle and tell Bascot what he had learned about Ivor Severtsson. When he finished repeating the tale the harlot had recounted, he hawked and spat as though Severtsson’s name had fouled his mouth. “I reckon that whoreson of a bailiff could easily be guilty of raping the potter’s girl,” he said to Bascot. “If I ever find him abroad in Lincoln on a dark night, his features won’t be so well-favoured when he wakes up in the morning.”
Bascot nodded grimly. “You may get the opportunity sooner than you think. Once I tell the preceptor what you have discovered, I doubt whether he will be allowed to retain his post at Wragby. There is no other place for him to go but back to his uncle’s home in Hungate.”
Roget’s face split into a grin, the old scar that ran down the side of his face crinkling as a result. “I look forward with pleasure to the day he is within my reach. I will make the
batard
wish he had been born a eunuch.”
batard
wish he had been born a eunuch.”
Twenty-one
T
HE NEXT MORNING WAS THE DAY OF WILKIN’S trial, and the hour of Terce had barely finished ringing before a group of townspeople were at the eastern gate of the bail seeking admittance. Not only the leading citizens of the town but also many of lower station were agog to witness Wilkin receive his just reward in the sheriff’s court.
HE NEXT MORNING WAS THE DAY OF WILKIN’S trial, and the hour of Terce had barely finished ringing before a group of townspeople were at the eastern gate of the bail seeking admittance. Not only the leading citizens of the town but also many of lower station were agog to witness Wilkin receive his just reward in the sheriff’s court.
Bascot and Gianni stood outside the door of the barracks watching as Ernulf directed his men to take up positions along the perimeter of the ward, warning them all to be vigilant for any sign of trouble amongst the crowd. Roget was there, too, with a half dozen of the men that belonged to the town guard. They would be on duty in the hall, to serve the same purpose as the men-at-arms outside.
De Laubrec came across the bail and walked up to Bascot. “The sheriff has instructed that discrimination should be used regarding those who are allowed into the hall,” the knight informed him. “First, the witnesses must be accommodated, then those of the townspeople who are members of the town council, and other citizens of standing.” The marshal looked towards the throng that was coming through the gate. “Once the hall is filled, the rest will have to wait in the bail. I have given Ernulf instructions to wait at the gate and sort the wheat from the chaff, and Eudo has allotted a few servants to assist the serjeant and guide those who are to be admitted to their places.”
The marshal ran a hand through his shock of tawny hair, its bright colour striking in contrast with the darkness of his brows and beard. His long face was lugubrious as he said, “I will be glad when this day is over, de Marins. If the verdict is guilty, we will be hard-pressed to get the prisoner safely back into his cell, and if he is, by some rare chance, deemed innocent, there will be outrage that he has escaped justice. Either way, our task will not be an easy one.”
The next hour passed swiftly, with more and more people coming through the gate. Bascot knew he would be required to give evidence against the potter, but he decided to wait until it was nearly time for the proceedings to start before he went into the hall.
The sheriff had decreed that the court would commence an hour after Terce, and as the time drew nearer, Bascot saw the arrival of those who would give witness. Alaric the physician was among the first, closely followed by Reinbald and his wife, with Harald escorting the old nurse, Nantie. Brother Andrew and another monk, whom Bascot assumed was the novice who had inadvertently fed the ailing lay brother the poison, walked together through the gate just afterwards. Everard d’Arderon was among the last to arrive, clad in the white surcoat of a knight of the Order, his face downcast as he strode through the gate and up the steps into the hall.
Just as Bascot turned to follow the preceptor, he saw a two-wheeled dray approach the gate. Driving it was Adam, the beekeeper, his daughter Margot beside him, clutching her grandson to her breast. Sitting in the back were Young Adam and Rosamunde. The girl was staring blankly ahead, not paying any attention to her surroundings.
Hurrying over to the gate, Bascot welcomed the old man and helped Margot down from her seat. “Are you sure it was wise for you to come here today?” Bascot asked. “There will be some amongst the crowd who will not look kindly on the kin of a man suspected of murder.”
“I know, lord, and I thank you for your concern,” Adam replied. “But if we didn’t come, then I reckoned as how people would think we believed Wilkin was guilty.” The old man lifted his head proudly and looked around him. “I’ve never deserted my family in times of need afore, and I’ll not do so now.”
Bascot admired the old man’s courage, but thought it foolhardy, and watched with misgiving as Adam went around to the back of the cart and gently guided his granddaughter down. His grandson went protectively to her side and took his sister’s hand as she stood uncomprehendingly beside him.
As the crowd began to notice the beekeeper’s arrival, their faces became indignant and one or two called out to the beekeeper in anger, deriding him for his presence amongst them. “I think it would be best if Mistress Margot and the others waited outside in the bail,” Bascot said to Adam. “They will be safer there than in the hall.”
The beekeeper nodded, and Bascot told Gianni to take them to the bench outside the barracks door. “I will send one of the men-at-arms to keep guard until I return.”
As Gianni shepherded the little group across the bail in the direction of the barracks, Bascot went over to Ernulf. “I would ask you to provide protection for Wilkin’s family,” he said and, seeing the serjeant look askance at the small group, added, “They are innocents in all of this, Ernulf. I am sure they had no knowledge of the potter’s intent and will be left destitute by his actions. They are victims of his crimes just as surely as those who died.”
Bascot waited for Ernulf’s reply. He knew the serjeant, for all his crusty manner, had a softness for any defenceless creature, especially women and children. It took only a moment’s observation of Margot holding her little grandson fearfully to her breast and of the apprehension etched on Young Adam’s face for him to accede to the Templar’s request. He called to one of his men and told him to keep watch over the little group.
“We’ll see ‘em safe, de Marins,” Ernulf said reassuringly as he glared menacingly at the sneering faces in the crowd around them. “If anyone so much as spits in their direction, I’ll have ‘em clapped in gaol alongside the prisoner.” He spoke loudly, so that his words carried out over the heads of the throng, and those who had been openly expressing their revulsion immediately turned their attention elsewhere.
Bascot motioned for Adam to follow, and they crossed the ward and went into the hall. It was packed, and the Templar had to push his way through the press of people to reach the space where those who would give witness were congregated. Keeping the beekeeper close behind him, he took a place beside Brother Andrew and the novice monk and looked up towards the dais.
Above him, near one end of the raised table, John Blund sat, parchment, ink and quill pens laid out before him in preparation for recording the details of the trial. His assistant, Lambert, a thin, dolorous man of about thirty years of age with a heavy lantern jaw, was seated by his side. At the other end was the knight who held the office of coroner for Lincoln, a man named Alan of Pinchbeck, who was attending the court in his official capacity. Preceptor d’Arderon sat beside him. Roget and three of his men flanked the dais, two on either side.
The steady hum of conversation in the hall was abruptly stilled as Gerard Camville came into the room, followed by his wife and son. Around his neck Camville wore a heavy chain of silver bearing a medallion engraved with the image of a man armed with a lance sitting astride a horse, the symbol of the office of sheriff. Taking his seat at the central position, with Richard and Nicolaa one on either side of him, Camville gave a curt command to Roget to bring in the prisoner. The captain signalled to one of his men, and the guard went running to the door. Within moments, Wilkin was led into the hall, escorted by two of Roget’s men. The crowd hissed and spat at him as he stumbled through the spectators and was led up to face the sheriff.
Gerard Camville stood up, and a hush fell as he spoke in the loud voice of a commander accustomed to giving orders on a battlefield. “We are here today, according to the laws of England and with the authority of the king, to hear evidence concerning the recent crimes of murder by poison in the town of Lincoln. The details of this hearing will, as is the custom, be taken down and kept as a record.”
The sheriff glared out over the assembly as though daring anyone to challenge his authority and then motioned for his son to call the first witness. Richard, his red hair gleaming in the light of the torches in the wall sconces behind him, rose and spoke in a voice that was just as resonant as his father’s.
“We will hear from the first finder of each of the victims, in the order of the deaths. John Blund will now step forward and tell us how the clerk, Ralf, met his end.”
Leaving the task of making a record of his evidence to Lambert, the secretary descended from his seat on the dais and came to stand before the sheriff. In his precise voice he told how he had found his young assistant in the throes of a violent illness and that the lad had subsequently died. As he related the details of Ralf’s final agonies, his voice faltered with emotion, and the crowd called out in anger at the heartlessness of the crime. The sheriff’s heavy fist crashed onto the table in front of him and silence quickly descended.
The squire, Thomas, was called next, to give an accounting of the death of Simon of Haukwell. The young man gave his testimony in a succinct and detached manner that seemed to impress the spectators more than Blund’s emotional one. There were a few gasps of horror when he had finished, but no more explosions of indignation.
For evidence of the spice merchant and his family’s deaths, only old Nantie was called. She was supported in her accounting by Reinbald and his wife, who also gave an explanation of how it was that the poisoned honey had first been placed in their home and subsequently given to their neighbour.
Finally, in the list of first finders, Brother Andrew and the novice monk, Eustace, told of the death of the lay brother and how the poison that had caused it was found to have been placed in a small jar of honey kept for use in the infirmary. Andrew also related how he and Brother Jehan had previously identified the nature of the poison for Nicolaa de la Haye.
Richard thanked the monk and then called all of those who, in some way other than being first finder, had knowledge of the circumstances surrounding each death. These included Martin the leech and Alaric the physician. Gosbert and Eric gave evidence that Wilkin had been in the castle kitchen in the days before the deaths of Ralf and Simon of Haukwell and had access to the shelf where the poisoned honey was found; Brother Andrew confirmed that the honey that had been tainted, and that had been fed to the lay brother who had died, had originally come from the priory kitchen where the potter had delivered some of his wares only a few days before. Ivor Severtsson was called to testify that he had received the supply of pots that had contained the adulterated one from Wilkin himself and had taken them to his uncle’s house in Hungate. Gilles de Laubrec described how, when he had gone to arrest the potter, roots of the herb from which the poison was made were found in a shed used by Wilkin. Finally, Bascot was called to speak of his investigations into the matter.
The Templar answered the questions Richard put to him and told how it had been discovered that the potter had a grudge against Ivor Severtsson and why. There were gasps of salacious disgust from the spectators when it was learned that Wilkin had accused the bailiff of rape, and Helge’s face flamed red in embarrassment. Then Bascot related how he had learned that Wilkin had been told that his wares would no longer be purchased by the castle or the priory and that it would have caused him to feel resentment for his impending loss of income. When he was done, Gerard Camville pronounced that the evidence given was sufficient to convince him of the prisoner’s guilt and that Wilkin would be held over for trial before the justices of the assize, who were due to reach Lincoln at the end of the first week in May.
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