Pat McIntosh - A Pig of Cold Poison

‘We said that before,’said Maistre Pierre. ‘If the young man forgot or mislaid the right flask, he must have replaced it at some time. But why with one full of poison?’

‘It could simply have been someone’s store of the poison,’ said Alys slowly, ‘and lifted by accident. The stuff already in the flask, I mean, and the flask simply taken as a substitute.’

‘That’s possible,’ said Gil cautiously. ‘But would a practised apothecary use what was in the flask without knowing what it was?’

‘There was no label on it, was there?’ asked the mason.

‘None when I saw it,’ said Gil.

Alys combed reflectively at her hair for a little while, then said, ‘What of the other people who were there? How did they look when the man fell? Father, you remarked on Maister Renfrew’s fit of rage, but that happened long before the flask appeared.’

‘Shock? Surprise? I didn’t see their faces,’ Gil said.

‘Shock and surprise,’ agreed Maistre Pierre. ‘Amazement. One or two thought it still part of the play, I suppose. Then you moved, Gil, and several watched you. I could not think what you were at myself.’

‘It seemed most important to get the children out of the chamber first.’

‘Yes, indeed. Kate mentioned that while she was nursing Edward,’ said Alys. ‘She was grateful, Gil. Wynliane still has nightmares, and seeing a man die in such a way would certainly set her off.’ He grunted, slightly embarrassed. ‘I looked at my father first, and Maister Renfrew beside him. He seemed amazed. Then you moved, and then when I looked again all the apothecaries had rushed forward, except for that one, is it Nicol Renfrew? Who stayed in his seat and laughed. Such a strange man.’

‘He always was strange,’ Gil said. He described Nicol as he recalled him from their schooldays, and she listened carefully, but said:

‘And the women were all shocked, I think. Poor Nell Wilkie was very distressed, I found her weeping in a corner later, but of course she could not leave until her parents did. She kept saying, It’s horrible, it’s just horrible . I wondered if she had a liking for either man herself. And what with Meg beginning in labour like that as well, both her stepdaughters were overset. It’s fortunate Grace is a woman of sense, for if I’d to rely on Eleanor Renfrew — ’ She bit the sentence off, and applied her comb again.

Her father stirred, and broke his long silence with, ‘Well, well, we were all shaken. Violent death in the midst of rejoicing — I hope it is not an ill omen for young Edward, or for the house. Now what must we do tomorrow? Who must we speak with? The brothers Forrest, I suppose, Maister Renfrew, Mistress Bothwell.’

‘I can do that,’ said Alys, ‘if you speak to Maister Renfrew, Father. See if you can find out about the other flasks. We can hardly trouble the rest of the household while Meg …’

‘I’ll talk to the Forrests and to the accused man,’ said Gil into the pause, ‘and see where that leads me, but I’d best get a word with the Provost first of all.’

‘Do that,’ said his father-in-law. ‘And now I suppose you have better things to think of than talking of murder. I go to my bed. Goodnight, my children.’ He got to his feet, and they bent their heads for his blessing. At the door he halted, and clapped Gil on the shoulder, nodding.

‘Something else to think about,’ he said cryptically, with a flick of the eyes towards Alys as she retreated to their bedchamber. ‘A good thing, I think.’

‘It’s a puzzle,’ said Wat Forrest, looking sourly at the painted flask. ‘It’s pyson right enough, and strong pyson at that as Frankie said, for it slew a couple sparrows and a seamew that fancied the bread and all, much the same way as poor Danny.’

‘The same way,’ Gil repeated.

‘Well, allowing it was smaller creatures,’ said Adam.

‘Aye,’ agreed his brother. ‘It acted much quicker, wi no seizures, they just fell over and twitched a time or two, even the seamew, that’s a lusty bird.’

‘ I haue brought a remedy with me that is the grettest poyson that euer ye herd speke of ,’ Gil said thoughtfully.

‘You have?’ said Wat quickly. ‘Ha! You’re at your quoting from books again. Find me a book wi this in it, then, for as to what it is, Gil, I’ve no more notion than when I started.’

‘Have you decided what it isn’t?’

‘Oh, we’ve started a list,’ said Adam.

They were in the Forrest brothers’ workroom, a powerful-smelling place lined with shelves. A wall of pottery jars, each carefully labelled in the neat script taught at the grammar school, faced an array of mysterious pieces of glassware and metal tubes. There was a scrubbed and much-stained bench in the middle of the room, and a small charcoal burner gave off a welcome heat but was not, Gil suspected, there to warm the occupants although the day outside was bright and cold, the wind biting. At the other side of the chamber, by the window which gave on to the shop, Wat’s quiet wife Barbara Hislop, niece of the late Andrew Slack, was working at something in a lead mortar between trips into the shop itself to deal with a customer. It was amazing how much of the Upper Town needed rice or nutmegs or digestive lozenges this morning.

‘There’s a few substances you can set aside immediate,’ Wat said helpfully, ‘that never take the form of a liquid, or else demand heat to liquefy them. Then there’s the colour, which is like watered milk, that lets you leave aside those that are said to be green or yellow or the like, and the smell, for I’d think there’s no smell from the flask, though to tell truth I haveny got that close to it. No strong smell, we’ll say. And we’ll do without proving it by taste, for I’ve a wife and a bairn to think of.’ The wife looked round at this; they exchanged a glance, and she smiled slightly and addressed the mortar again.

‘So we’re no much forrard,’ said Adam.

‘We know now it’s poison in this flask, the one that was in Bothwell’s scrip,’ said Gil. ‘If we knew what it was, it might tell us who put it there, but there could be other ways to find that.’ He nodded at the bright thing sitting innocently on the workbench. ‘Knowing where the flask itself came from would help.’

‘Well, from Araby,’ said Wat.

‘We had a dozen, as I tellt you,’ said Adam. ‘There’s seven still on the shelf yonder,’ he pointed at the furthest rack, ‘and we need to go through the book and check, but I think the other five’s accounted for, gone out holding one preparation or another for the gentry trade.’

‘That’s assuming they’re still in the houses they went to,’ Gil observed. ‘If you let me have a list, I’ll see to tracking them down.’

There was a pause, in which the brothers looked at one another.

‘I could see to that,’ said Barbara Hislop in her soft voice. ‘I delivered the most of them, after all. I could call by each one and ask if it’s still there.’

‘Aye, that’s the way,’ said Wat in relief. Gil, recognizing that confidentiality was a requirement in other professions than his own, nodded with some reluctance.

‘Maybe you’d do more than ask, mistress,’ he suggested. ‘If you could try to set eyes on each one, and make a note of it, that would be better. I wouldn’t need to see your note unless you learn aught the Provost has to hear,’ he added, ‘but I’d as soon know it was writ down somewhere just what you learned.’

Wat frowned at this, but grunted agreement. His wife looked at him, then into the mortar; pushing it to one side she covered it with a cloth and said, ‘I’ll go out the now, while folk are still in their houses. How was Christian the day, sir?’ she added shyly. ‘Adam said she was to lie at your house. That was kind in you.’