Kate Sedley - The Midsummer Crown

‘Still drugged?’

‘Still drugged and concealed under some sacking and a load of cabbages. I sent the girls as well. I thought an officious gatekeeper less likely to search the cart — and considering this morning’s events, everyone in London is probably as jumpy as a cat — if they were with their father.’ She glanced towards me. ‘But who’s this? I seem to recall his face from somewhere. Yes! Now I have it. He was here, snooping around, several weeks ago. John was suspicious of him to begin with, but then we decided he was harmless.’ The hazel eyes narrowed. ‘Can it be that we were wrong?’

‘Very wrong,’ was the grim reply. ‘But let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.’

Half an hour had gone by and I was sitting in the only chair the cottage afforded. This fact, however, had nothing to do with the women’s concern for my comfort. It simply meant that my arms could be pulled around its back and my wrists lashed together with rope. A foot or two away, its wicked little eyes fixed almost unblinkingly on my face, lay the dog, ready to spring if I so much as moved a muscle.

Pernelle — for as such I was now forced to think of Piers — had finished her story and was easing her throat with some of our hostess’s ale, regarding me mockingly as she did so, understanding how parched I must be. But I refused to beg a drink and tried to ignore my raging thirst.

Pernelle knew this, of course, and grinned at her companion, whom she addressed as Margaret.

‘Roger’s very stubborn. And he’s nigh impossible to kill. I’ve tried twice already so I should know.’ She shifted on her stool so that she could see me better. ‘Oh yes, I’m the executioner, not Amphillis. Amphillis hasn’t the stomach for it. Whatever my aunt told this Owlgrave woman you mentioned, she was simply protecting me. After all, why would she trust someone who has left the Sisterhood and might decide, in the future, to betray us? I killed Gregory Machin.’ She turned momentarily back to her friend. ‘It frightened me half to death, I can tell you, when he walked away into his room and bolted the door, even though he did seem more than a little dazed and disorientated. Imagine my relief when I discovered that he was in fact dead!’

‘Yes, indeed,’ the other agreed with a shudder.

Pernelle turned again to me. ‘I was the one who attacked you outside your chamber.’ She touched the disfiguring bruise down the left-hand side of her face. Her voice hardened and she sneered. ‘Fortunately, you were easy to fool. You believed me when I said I’d walked into a door. Just as when you thought I’d hurt my foot when you saw Margaret here going into the sewing room to speak to Amphillis.’ The sneer became more pronounced. ‘The bigger the body, the smaller the brain. You large men are so easy to dupe.’

‘And the blow over the head in the room beneath St Etheldreda’s crypt?’ I asked.

Pernelle grinned malevolently. Still in her boy’s clothes, it was difficult to remember that she wasn’t really Piers.

‘No, unhappily I didn’t have that pleasure. If you remember, you’d left me behind in the Boar’s Head eating my dinner. That was Aunt Etheldreda, which is why you survived. Her arm doesn’t have the force of mine. Had I hit you then, you wouldn’t have survived the water. You’d have been dead before your body left the drain. But I did go to the Rattlebones.’ Her expression sharpened. ‘Incidentally, where exactly were you last night?’

It was my turn to curl my lip, but I said nothing.

This intransigence annoyed her and she half-rose from her stool, an ugly look on her face, but the other woman interrupted by asking, ‘What are we going to do with him? Kill him? But I don’t want the body disposed of here. From what you’ve told me, if he really is an agent of the Lord Protector, his disappearance will cause a stir and there’s bound to be a hue and cry. The trail might well lead to us. John can look out for himself, but I’ve the girls to think of.’

Pernelle got to her feet. ‘Oh, I’m in no hurry to get rid of him. He can wait. I’ll think of something later. Meanwhile, we’ve tomorrow to concern us and there’s still a lot to do to prepare for the ceremony. John knows to take the boy straight to St Etheldreda’s Church?’

‘Of course. Your aunt will be waiting for him?’

‘Yes. He and the girls will stop the night with her. It’s all arranged. Three of the Sisterhood will stay with the boy in the underground chamber, administering more of the drug if he seems like waking. You’ve had no trouble with him?’

‘None. We did as we were told. If he stirred, we forced more of the potion down his throat before he had time to recover consciousness. That apothecary’s assistant you recruited certainly knows how to concoct a potent brew.’

I caught my breath. Could it be Naomi they were talking of? I remembered the sprig of birch twigs pinned to her bodice, but that was commonplace at this time of year. I prayed for Julian Makepeace’s sake that it wasn’t true, but without much hope of having my prayer answered. Naomi was just the sort of giddy young woman to be easily influenced and convinced of her own importance. Moreover, she had access to all of Julian’s drugs, and I wouldn’t put it past her to have picked his brains without his realizing why she needed the information. And indeed, why would he suspect her of any nefarious dealing?

‘So what do we do now?’ the woman called Margaret went on anxiously. ‘Are you leaving him with me?’ She nodded in my direction.

‘No. I need you in London. There are horses outside. If we ride hard, we may reach the gates before curfew. If not, there are ways in and out of the city if you know them.’ Pernelle laughed suddenly and stretched her arms above her head. ‘You know, Aunt Rosina couldn’t believe her luck when Lady Fitzalan asked her to be nurse to young Gideon. The seventh son of a seventh son! She knew the time must come when we could make use of him. It’s been a long and patient wait in the cold and gloomy north, but the gods have moved at last. If you believe in them and make them sacrifice, the Old Ones never fail you.’

Her friend ignored this. ‘If I come to London with you, what happens to him?’ she demanded.

Pernelle laughed again, a sound that increasingly made me break into a sweat. Why had I never noticed before that there was a hint of madness in it?

‘He can stay here until we return the day after tomorrow. He can’t escape. Even if he could manage to get his hands free, the dog won’t let him move.’ She smiled at me. ‘He’s a brother of Beelzebub. He’s from the same litter.’ The smile grew even more pronounced. ‘Margaret is Nell Blancheflower’s sister. I shall have something to tell her on our journey.’ She turned to the dog, pointed a finger at me and uttered the one word, ‘Guard!’

The vicious brute growled and bared his teeth. I shivered inwardly. I had seen what his brother was capable of and I didn’t fancy my throat being torn apart.

Pernelle turned once more to her friend. ‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘Get your cloak. We must be going. We’ll see you again, Roger. The day after tomorrow!’

I must, in spite of my agonizing discomfort, have fallen into an uneasy, nightmarish doze, because the light now coming through the cottage window was rosy with the first feeble rays of the rising sun. For a moment or two, I stared around me, unable to get my bearings, before the pain in my legs, my wrists, my bladder brought me once more fully to my senses. My distress, after so many hours, was acute enough to convince me that another day and night of this torment would very likely kill me. Was this what Piers — Pernelle — had planned? Death by slow torture?