Bernard Knight - The Elixir of Death

'I returned here only last night, de Blois,' he said. 'My wife has decided to stay at my manor near Tiverton — she says she finds the winds from the sea too chill here, now that winter is threatening to descend upon us.'

The French knight had arranged this visit when he was last at Revelstoke with Alexander of Leith, and had been hoping now to report that the alchemists had made good progress. Instead, he had to deliver his misgivings about the whole enterprise.

'These Moors are uncontrollable, I fear,' he said, warming his chilled body with mulled wine. 'Our little Scotchman does his best, but he can get no sense out of this Nizam creature. Last night, Alexander came to me complaining that he fears that the man has no real expertise in his craft. He is also beginning to suspect that the nodule of gold that the Arab claims to have made has been planted there to sustain the deceit!'

The lord of Revelstoke looked aghast at his visitor. 'Surely that cannot be true? This Saracen was sent at the express wish of your king! He must have had credentials to prove his prowess?'

Raymond gave a Gallic shrug. 'I knew of the man in Paris. Philip Augustus brought him back when he returned from the Crusade more than two years ago. He claimed then to have discovered the Elixir of Life and was confident that he could soon convert this substance into its other form, with the ability to transmute base metals into gold.'

De Revelle began pacing up and down in front of his table.

'Yes, yes, I know all that! But the Prince in Gloucester is impatiently awaiting results. He sends a herald here every week or two, demanding news. Why is this Godblasted Nizam proving so difficult, eh?'

'He keeps vanishing for days on end, together with these mute ruffians he has as bodyguards,' explained Raymond wearily.

'What are they up to? They are supposed to lie low all the time, to avoid being seen. What can bloody foreigners like them want with skulking around the countryside?' He ignored the fact that de Blois himself was a foreigner to Devon.

'I wish to heaven I knew — but then again, perhaps I prefer not to know!' answered Raymond fervently. 'They are dangerous men. I fear no one in fair combat, I welcome any adversary before me with sword or lance. But these strange beings are so untrustworthy, I am reluctant to turn my back on them, in case they slide a knife between my ribs.'

Richard de Revelle stared anxiously at his guest. He respected him as a brave and honourable knight, even though he was spying for another king. For him to admit to fears about these men was serious indeed.

'What were they like when you brought them across the sea?' he asked.

'They were quiet enough until we came in sight of this coast. I brought them from Paris to the Vexin, which is in King Philip's hands now, then we slipped into Normandy dressed as black monks, for those white nightshirts and headgear they wear are hard to disguise.'

'Which port did you use, then?' asked Richard, curious to hear about the ways of espionage.

'We embarked at Harfleur, where I paid this shipmaster well to drop us at Salcombe on his way home to some place near Exeter. He was a little suspicious of these hawk-faced 'Benedictines', but I spun him a story about them being hermits from Sinai wishing to go on a pilgrimage to Glastonbury, via Buckfast Abbey.'

'But you never got to Salcombe?'

Raymond de Blois shook his head sadly. 'I intended that to be the plan, but after I explained to this Nizam that we would need to go back a few miles from Salcombe to Bigbury, they went into a huddle. As soon as the ship came close inshore in this big bay, they suddenly rose up and callously slew all the crew, apart from one lad who had time to leap overboard — though he must have perished.'

'What reason did they give?' asked Richard, uneasy that he had to deal with such dangerous people.

'Oh, Nizam said that the shipmen might give us away to the authorities and it would be better if they were silenced. They wiped their bloody daggers on the clothing of the poor sailors and then calmly put the small boat into the water and we paddled ashore.'

'Perhaps you were lucky not to have had your throat cut as well!'

Raymond shook his head emphatically. 'No, they needed me to survive. I knew the way to the hideout in the forest and without me they would have had no prospect of food or shelter.'

'And how are they to return when their task is completed — if it ever is, from what you have told me today,' persisted de Revelle.

The Frenchman shook his head slowly in bewilderment. 'I can't make them out, they seem so unconcerned. My plan was to make the journey in reverse, take them in their disguises to one of the ports and seek passage across the Channel, then work our way back to Paris. But they are quite incurious about this — at least Nizam is, for it is impossible to communicate with the other two, who are clearly nothing but ruffians recruited to protect the alchemist. '

He paused to drain the last of his wine cup. 'There is something odd about them. Often they seem drugged and sleepy, at other times they seem wildly excited. They chew some scented brown gum and spit filthy curds upon the ground. It seems to be some sort of opiate that affects their minds.'

At this point, two servants arrived with food for the traveller, and Richard joined de Blois in taking more wine while the knight tucked in to a roast fowl, grilled sea-fish, sliced mutton and boiled beans. Fresh bread, cheese and some fruit filled the envoy's stomach as they resumed their anxious discussion.

'So what's to be done about this?' demanded de Revelle. 'The Count of Mortain will doubtless be sending another of his messengers down here very soon, wanting to hear of progress.'

De Blois dipped his fingers into a bowl of water scented with rose petals and wiped them fastidiously on a napkin. He approved of the civilised style that de Revelle affected in his house, but his worried mind was occupied with their problem.

'I think that you should talk personally to these two alchemists, de Revelle. I can do nothing with them to bring them together and the Scotchman is becoming increasingly angry and frustrated. He is already talking of returning to Bristol.'

Richard paled slightly at the prospect of being closeted with an unbalanced trio of Turks who seemed all too ready to commit multiple murder.

'Is that really necessary?' he bleated. 'What can I say that you have not already demanded?'

'You will be a fresh voice with much authority. You are the direct agent of the Count in this enterprise and you can threaten them with dire consequences if they do not submit.'

Richard had his doubts about this, but his friendship with the Prince and the great prizes of power and advancement for him that were hinted at when John seized the throne were too important to jeopardise.

'Very well. If there is no improvement in the situation within the coming week, I will ride briefly to your hideout to talk to this Nizam. But make sure they behave themselves when I am there!'

Thorgils had built his house in a side lane off the main street, but the window of the upstairs solar faced back towards the sea, and the woman standing before the open shutter could see over the irrregular roof-line of the older buildings below. Though they blocked her view of the strand, she could see the sea in the distance, dotted to the hazy horizon with white caps from the stiff westerly breeze.

Beyond that horizon was the Continent, and Hilda stared as if she could see over the curve of the earth to the places where her husband had voyaged since he was twelve years old. He had brought wine from Bordeaux and taken Devon wool to Cologne, sailing to every port between them in the course of his long life. This fine house that was now hers had been built with the profits — and when she had opened his treasure chest and counted through the many leather bags it contained, she had been amazed at how much silver and even gold it contained. His three ships were now hers, and if John's and Hugh de Relaga's plan came to pass, she would want for nothing for the rest of her life — except, perhaps, for John himself.