Maureen Ash - A Plague of Poison

As they went towards the door of the cot, the bailiff, who was a little ahead of Bascot, hesitated and glanced at Rosamunde. The young woman was still sitting as she had been during the whole time they had been there, staring vacantly at the empty space in front of her, and made no sign of having noticed his, or anyone else’s, presence. Despite that, Wilkin quickly stepped into the space between the bailiff and his daughter in a protective manner and glared at Severtsson. Margot watched her husband’s defiant movement with an anxious face, her lips pressed tight together as though to stop her from crying out in alarm. The bailiff gave them both a disdainful stare and then, with a petulant shrug of his shoulders, turned and left the room.

Severtsson parted company with the two Templars at the junction of the apiary road with the main track, his journey back to Wragby taking him in the opposite direction to their own. As they watched his retreating figure disappear down the road, Bascot said to Hamo, “All is not well between the potter and the bailiff, and it would seem to have some connection with Wilkin’s daughter, Rosamunde.”

Hamo was alert at once, ever conscious of any wrongdoing which might impugn the integrity of the Order. “Severtsson said the girl was unmarried,” he observed. “Perhaps he is the father of her babe. If that is so, the preceptor must be told. The Order frowns on moral laxity among its lay servants.”

“We will do so when we return to Lincoln. But, Hamo, both the potter and the bailiff are connected to the mystery of these poisonings, although only by tenuous threads-Wilkin because he is one of those who oversee the preparation of the honey and undertakes its delivery; and Severtsson because one of the jars that he took to his uncle’s house was adulterated. Is it possible that the enmity between the two is somehow involved in the matter?”

The poisoner found it difficult to maintain his facade of innocence during the turmoil that followed the deaths of le Breve and his family. His anger had almost overwhelmed him, and it still burned in his gut like molten iron in the depths of a blacksmith’s forge. After all the risks he had taken, it had happened again, just as it had with Nicolaa de la Haye, and instead of the lives of Reinbald and his family being taken, it had been people of no consequence who had died.

He recalled how, for one heart-stopping moment, he had thought himself discovered and had made preparations to flee if the hue and cry was raised for his capture. But, as the hours passed, and his alarm proved groundless, he knew that he could resume his quest for vengeance without fear of hindrance.

He would need to wait before he made another attempt to poison either the castellan or the merchant.

Counselling himself to patience, he took comfort from the thought that since the finger of suspicion had not been pointed in his direction, there would be no obstacle to his entering the premises of his next victim.

The morning was not far advanced when Bascot and Hamo returned to Lincoln. D’Arderon was waiting for them, and Bascot told him briefly of their visit to the apiary and of his suspicion that there was something amiss between the bailiff and the potter.

The preceptor shook his head in distaste. “Whether their rancour has any connection to the poisonings or not, if Severtsson has been involved with this young woman, perhaps even responsible for the babe she bore out of wedlock, I cannot let him continue as a servant of the Order. It would be tantamount to blasphemy to do so.” He looked at Bascot with weary eyes. “Unpleasant as it may be, I must learn the truth of the matter, de Marins. The decision to appoint him as bailiff was mine. If he is immoral, I should have discovered his inclinations before giving him the post.”

Hamo nodded his head in confirmation of the preceptor’s statement, and Bascot knew the depth of concern they both felt. Not only must the brothers of the Templar Order be morally above reproach, but also any servants they employed. As preceptor of the Lincoln enclave, the responsibility for ensuring this was so fell on d’Arderon’s shoulders.

“I shall let you know if I discover anything about the girl and Severtsson that might be relevant, Preceptor,” Bascot promised.

After Bascot had ridden out of the enclave he returned immediately to the castle and sought out Ernulf. The serjeant had been in service to the Hayes for many years and was familiar with most of the people who lived and worked in the town. Although Ivor Severtsson did not reside in Lincoln, his uncle did and was a well-known figure among the populace. It might be possible that Ernulf had heard some gossip that was pertinent to the merchant’s nephew.

He found Ernulf in the barracks, having just returned after a spell of duty on the walls. “There’s a lot of unrest over these murders in the town,” he told Bascot. “Had to send a few of my men to help Roget, so I’ve been doing some of the rounds myself.”

The Templar told him of his visit to the apiary and of the ill will that the potter seemed to bear Ivor Severtsson. “I need to find out what the cause is, Ernulf,” Bascot said. “It may be no more than the usual resentment of a tenant towards those in authority, especially if Wilkin has been subjected to a reprimand by the bailiff for some infringement of his rights, but I have a feeling it is more than that, and somehow centred on the potter’s daughter, Rosamunde, who is the mother of a bastard child.”

“Of the people in the town I keeps close track, lest their affairs touch on the security of the castle and so upon milady,” Ernulf said regretfully. “Out in the countryside…”

He shrugged but, after giving the matter some thought, said, “I do know of one as might be able to help you. The rat catcher, Germagan, has a cousin who used to be employed as a resident catcher at Wragby. He might have some knowledge of what goes on at Nettleham, since it’s part of the same property that the old widow left to the Order. This cousin, he was at Wragby under the old bailiff, and for a little while after Severtsson took over. Came back to Lincoln town a few months ago, I think. If you was to ask Germagan, he can tell you if his cousin is plying his trade in the town, or moved elsewhere.

“Other than that,” Ernulf went on, “the best I can do for you is ask around amongst my men and a few people in the town. As far as the bailiff is concerned, I do know that Severtsson’s uncle, Reinbald, is a man of good repute. He and his wife took Ivor and a younger brother, Harald, into their home when the wife’s sister and her husband died. Reinbald has no sons, and Harald helps the merchant in his business and will probably be his heir one day. About Ivor, I know little, even though he is often in Lincoln on the Order’s business, for he spends most of his time at Wragby. But it could be Germagan’s cousin might know summat useful about him. The cousin must have plied his trade under Severtsson’s direction after the old bailiff died. He might know about any dealings he has with the apiary and if there is reason for sourness on the potter’s part.”

Bascot thanked the serjeant and said he would follow up his suggestion. Severtsson had said he went to his uncle’s house whenever he was in Lincoln, which would seem to be fairly often. Was the rancour the potter felt against the bailiff deep enough for him to have poisoned the honey sent to the merchant’s house in the hope that Severtsson would eat a dish that contained it?

But, if that was so, it did not explain why Wilkin would have placed poison in the castle kitchen. The potter had admitted he delivered the honey to the castle store last autumn at the time of the fair. Did he have any reason to be in the kitchen on subsequent occasions? And if so, did he have a grievance against someone in the castle, and a wish to harm them, as well as Severtsson? Perhaps Gosbert could give him answers to these questions.