Bernard Knight - The Elixir of Death

Richard struggled to follow the strange accent from north of the border, but he was appeased by the small man's apparent earnest attitude.

The reaction of the Mussulmen was totally different, in that there was no reaction at all. They remained staring at him, until Nizam's guttural voice asked, 'You have sons and daughters?'

The complete irrelevance of this took de Revelle aback. 'No, I have not been so blessed. A wife and sister complete my family. Why do you ask?'

There was no reply, but the alchemist again turned and gabbled something to his men.

Richard launched once again into his prepared homily about the importance of their work and how at great expense they had been brought here and given every facility to succeed in their efforts at transmutation. Eventually, after much repetition, he stuttered to a halt, the faces of the Moors having remained totally impassive throughout his speeches.

'We'll do our best, sir, you can depend on it,' said the Scotsman, the earnest expression on his odd face a welcome contrast to the blankness of the others. 'Nizam claims to have made small quantities of the precious metal and has shown me little particles — but he seems to have lost the knack of doing it while I watch him.'

There was an underlying sarcasm in his voice, which produced no reaction from the Saracen.

Richard looked helplessly at Raymond de Blois. 'There seems little else that I can say or do,' he admitted. 'How long are we going to persist with this venture? It has been several weeks now, with no result.'

The French knight shrugged. 'I have no orders concerning that. We must see what the next messenger from Gloucester has to say. It is up to Prince John how he proceeds.'

As Richard turned to leave, there was a sudden change of attitude from Nizam. His harsh voice cut across the crypt.

'You will come again in a few days. I promise you I will have gold then. Much gold. Enough for you to take, as well as plenty for your prince.'

De Revelle swung back to face the Turk. The mention of gold for himself had instantly concentrated his attention. 'You mean you are really near success? Are you sure?'

'I promise it. My experiments have been long and difficult, but maybe even tomorrow I will have gold. I will need more mercury, tin and copper later, to produce much gold.'

'I'll believe that when it happens,' muttered the Scotsman, loud enough for Richard to hear.

The lord of Revelstoke thought quickly, his mind suddenly stimulated by the thought of wealth. 'Today is Tuesday. Will you have completed your work in two days' time?'

'I will have finished by then. Come that day and see what has been achieved.'

Feeling relieved and excited, Richard left the chamber and climbed back up to the open air, Raymond close behind. Alexander pattered behind him, and when they reached the bailey above, the little Scot grasped the Frenchman's arm.

'This is foolishness! He has said nothing to me about suddenly attaining success! He has made no gold at all. How can he promise large amounts in two days' time?' Again de Blois gave one of his Gallic shrugs. 'We must just wait and see, that's all we can do.'

'He seemed very sure of himself just then,' commented de Revelle, already counting piles of gold coins in his head, his former doubts about transmutation allayed by even the most tenuous prospect of becoming rich.

'It's out of character for the miserable fellow,' grumbled Alexander. 'He rarely says a civil word to me, just gabbles to those thugs in his heathen tongue.'

They waited until Alfred had brought Richard his horse, and as soon as he was mounted de Blois asked him whether he was really coming back in two days' time. 'For the sake of a ten-mile ride, I'll chance it,' he replied almost cheerfully. 'I think you'll agree that my visit today has moved us on a little, to say the least.'

As he rode off and vanished along the track between the trees, Alexander of Leith was in his most dour mood. 'I don't like it at all. I smell trouble with those Moors. That Nizam is lying through his teeth.'

He stared up at the tall knight. 'And what about the woman down there in that storeroom? What's to become of her? I'll not be party to any killing!'

The Frenchman shrugged again and walked away without replying. All of them were unaware that the subject of the Scotsman's concern had been pressed against the inside of her door all through Richard's visit. Her original intention had been to yell, kick and scream to draw the attention of this new and cultured voice, but as he passed across her narrow field of view, she recognised him as the former sheriff, whom she had seen on numerous occasions in Exeter, including times when she had accompanied her husband to guild feasts, fairs and local tournaments.

Knowing of John de Wolfe's endless antipathy to de Revelle and his tales of the man's faithlessness and treachery, she decided to keep very quiet and learn whatever she could about his presence there, as it was unlikely that any help would be forthcoming from him — indeed, if he discovered who she was, she would be in an even more dangerous situation.

On Wednesday, Richard de Revelle could not plead the weather as an excuse to his sister. Though it was grey and overcast, the wind had dropped and it was marginally warmer. Reluctantly, he agreed to her demand to go riding with him the next morning, and Matilda heard with satisfaction the refusal of Lady Eleanor to accompany them.

'Why, by Holy Mary's name, should I want to leave my fireside and my tapestry to trudge through these miserable lanes for hours on end?' she said loftily. 'And might I ask what you are going to do with your sister while you attend to this mysterious business of yours?

Richard's wife was well aware of his many dubious dealings, but though she chose to ignore their doubtful legality as long as they increased their wealth, she could not resist an occasional dig at his furtive behaviour.

To save him answering, Matilda rose to the bait. 'Richard tells me that there is an ancient chapel near by, with a holy well claiming to offer healing powers. I would like to stop there and pray for a time, while he is conducting his affairs.'

She was careful not to enquire as to the nature of these affairs, in case the answer was not to her liking. Eleanor's supercilious sniff conveyed her opinion of Matilda's devoutness, and there was a guarded truce between them for the rest of the evening.

Soon after dawn the next morning, Matilda de Wolfe appeared in the bailey muffled in a heavy cloak of green serge, a wide hood pulled up over her wimple and coverchief. She wore fur-lined gloves and boots of fine leather. Her maid Lucille, sniffing back a head-cold that seemed to afflict her most of the time, followed reluctantly in a markedly thinner cloak, a brown woollen scarf tied tightly around her head.

With the aid of one of the menservants, she helped her mistress on to her horse before clambering awkwardly on to the side-saddle of her own pony. Richard, elegant as ever in a long mantle of yellow linen lined with ermine, waited impatiently on his own white gelding for the two women to settle down, then gave the signal for the small party to move off. He rode with Matilda, with Lucille behind and the two armed servants bringing up the rear. Almost half the journey would be on his own lands and he had little fear of outlaws or footpads there. Beyond that, the land belonged to the Count of Mortain, though that was no assurance against trouble, which was why he had brought the two experienced men, armed with ball-maces and long-handled fighting axes. He himself carried a short riding sword and a mace hung from his saddle, though he fervently hoped that he would not be called upon to use either of them.