Edward Marston - The Devil's Apprentice

‘This week? Last week? Be more precise.’

‘I can’t be.’

‘Then you’d better come with us,’ he said brusquely. ‘This crime took place under Sir Michael’s own roof so he’s more than willing to issue a warrant for your arrest. Lock up your house, Mother Pigbone,’ he ordered. ‘You may be away for some time.’

‘No!’ she cried.

‘I’ve tired of your lies. Come on.’

‘Wait!’ She pushed away his hand as he tried to reach out for her. ‘If I tell you what I know, will you go away?’

‘Yes,’ said Elias, ‘before we die of the stink.’

Nicholas held his ground. ‘I’ll tolerate no more evasion. We’re talking about murder here, Mother Pigbone. If you deliberately provided the poison to kill Master Robert Partridge, then you’re an accessory.’

‘I didn’t, I didn’t!’ she yelled. ‘I swear it.’

‘Then what did you do?’

She hung her head. ‘Supply a compound to a gentleman.’

‘For what purpose?’

‘To kill off rats, he said. Or I’d not have sold it to him.’

‘When was this?’

‘Two days ago.’

‘What was the man’s name?’

‘I don’t know, sir. I’ve never seen him before.’

‘Have you any idea where he lives?’

‘None whatsoever. Spare me, please,’ she begged, taking his arm. ‘You know everything now. He bought what I sell. That’s all there is to it. I didn’t even get a proper look at the man because he kept his hat pulled down over his face.’

Nicholas stepped back. They had learnt all that they were going to from Mother Pigbone. After issuing a stern warning that they might return, he rode off with Elias. When they were well out of her earshot, Nicholas turned his friend.

‘You threatened to shoot her boar,’ he said.

‘I had to, Nick.’

‘But that musket is broken.’

‘ We know that but Mother Pigbone didn’t.’

‘What would you have done if she’d set Beelzebub on to you?’

‘Run like hell,’ confessed Elias with a laugh. He became serious. ‘You really scared her with that talk about a warrant for her arrest. It forced the truth out of her.’

‘Part of the truth, Owen. My guess is that she and Doctor Winche work more closely than she was ready to admit. Why a doctor should fall back on the remedies of a wise woman I don’t know but there’s some connection between them.’

‘Do you think it was the doctor who bought that poison?’

‘No, it was a stranger. I believed Mother Pigbone on that score.’

‘Was it the same poison that killed Master Partridge?’

‘In all probability.’

‘Then why did Doctor Winche say the man died of a heart attack?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Nicholas thoughtfully. ‘The answer may lie in this odd friendship he has with Mother Pigbone.’

‘Do you remember what he said when he brought that potion for Lawrence?’

‘Yes, Owen.’

‘The doctor said it came from the house of last resort.’

‘Mother Pigbone.’

‘I wouldn’t touch any of her foul concoctions.’

‘Don’t disparage them, Owen. She helped to bring back a lost voice.’

‘Yes, but she silenced another one for ever.’

‘Not deliberately,’ said Nicholas. ‘I think that Mother Pigbone sold that poison in good faith to get rid of vermin. She didn’t know how it would be used.’

‘Didn’t know and didn’t care.’

‘Oh, I think she cared a great deal. If it was used to kill a human being, it could easily be tracked back to her. Mother Pigbone wouldn’t want that. But what really puzzles me is why Doctor Winche didn’t recognise the signs of poisoning when he examined the dead body.’

‘He must be incompetent.’

‘No,’ decided Nicholas, ‘there’s another explanation, I feel. Could it be, in some obscure way, that he was trying to protect Mother Pigbone?’

‘Why should he do that?’

‘It’s one of many things we need to find out, Owen. But we mustn’t lose sight of our main task. Hunting for muskets and searching for a source of poison are important, I know, but there’s another mystery to solve first.’

‘Yes,’ said Elias with a sigh. ‘Where is Davy Stratton?’

When he heard footsteps on the staircase, he dived swiftly back into his hiding place beneath the bed. Davy Stratton waited with apprehension. Discovery would be a disaster for him. When the latch was lifted, he closed his eyes tightly and prayed that nobody would look under the bed. His fears were imaginary. The visitor did not even come into the room. Something was pushed hastily inside before the door was shut again and the footsteps retreated. Davy relaxed. When he opened his eyes again, he saw something that made him crawl out of his refuge at once. Bread and cheese were lying on a wooden platter. Snatching it up, he sat on the bed and began to eat his first meal of the day. It tasted good. Davy was content. He felt wanted.

Sir Michael Greenleaf was poring over a table in his laboratory when his visitor arrived.

‘Ah, come in, Doctor Winche,’ said the old man. ‘You find me, as ever, trying to explore the farthest horizons of science.’

‘What are you working on now, Sir Michael? Your new gunpowder?’

‘No, dear fellow. My mind is turning to the manufacture of more peaceful substances. I’m trying to create a liquid that burns brighter than any candle yet lasts much longer.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I intend to fill Silvermere with light.’

‘You already do that.’

Sir Michael beamed at the compliment and Romball Taylard, standing at his master’s elbow, allowed himself a whisper of a smile. When the old man stepped away from the table, the steward began to clear things up after him.

‘I got your message, Sir Michael,’ said Winche.

‘Good of you to come so quickly.’

‘There was a hint of urgency in the missive.’

‘Quite so. I felt that the matter had to be resolved once and for all.’

‘What matter, Sir Michael?’

‘It’s this business of Robert Partridge’s sudden death.’

‘But that needn’t cause you any more concern,’ said Winche. ‘The body has been removed to St Margaret’s church and a date for the funeral has been set.’

‘The poor fellow died in my house, doctor.’

‘An unfortunate coincidence.’

‘Not according to Nicholas Bracewell.’

‘Oh?’

‘He and Master Firethorn viewed the body when it lay in my mortuary and they reached a conclusion that, I must confess, flitted across my own mind.’ Sir Michael pursed his lips. ‘They feel that Robert Partridge might have been poisoned.’

‘That’s quite out of the question.’

‘Is it?’

‘I examined the body with care.’

‘So did they, Doctor Winche.’

‘But only in the dark,’ said Taylard, easing into the conversation. ‘They went into the mortuary without permission. When I found them there, they were giving the body a very cursory examination with the aid of a single candle. What could they see with that?’

‘An admirable point,’ said Winche, smiling with gratitude. ‘When I visited the mortuary, I had candelabra set up so that I could inspect the corpse properly. And even then, the light was inadequate.’ He gave a laugh. ‘I could have done with some of that magic liquid you’re working on, Sir Michael. Better illumination was needed.’

‘Nicholas Bracewell seemed so certain,’ recalled Sir Michael.

‘Why should it even concern him and Master Firethorn?’

‘Because the death occurred during their play.’

‘Does that mean they’re entitled to become physicians in my stead?’

‘Of course, not.’

‘Then why do they question my judgement?’