Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘I am unusually late, because of the news,’ he explained as he unlocked the door. ‘So please forgive my tardiness.’

‘What news?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Richard fitz Baldwin’s home was attacked last night. He escaped harm, but fled the town, saying he is not going to wait here for another attempt on his life. At first, folk said it was his own soldiers who staged the assault – he is not popular – but two of them were killed in the incident.’

‘Killed by Richard?’

‘Killed by whoever broke into his home with knives and crossbows. From what I gather, it was fortunate more were not slaughtered, although word is that they were aiming for Richard, not his minions.’

‘Was Leah harmed?’ asked Geoffrey, concerned.

The apothecary lowered his voice confidentially. ‘It pains me to say something nice about such a rank villain, but Richard does love his wife. He protected her bravely last night, then gave her to Abbot Ywain this morning, hoping she will be safe inside a holy place.’

‘Where has Richard gone?’

The apothecary waved his hand. ‘The forests that surround us will keep a man hidden for as long as he pleases, and the marshes are lonely and abandoned. He might have gone anywhere. Personally I hope he stays away, because he is not good for Kermerdyn with his brutality and pent-up fury. It is a pity he is not like his brother.’

Geoffrey asked the apothecary his question. When he had the answer, he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, what had happened to William. He thanked the man and retraced his steps to the abbey. The monks were in their chapel, praying for Mabon, but Leah was sitting on the wall where Geoffrey and Ywain had talked earlier. Her eyes were red, and she was pale and wan.

‘You heard what happened?’ she whispered when Geoffrey approached. Tears began to fall. ‘Men broke into our home, and would have killed us if Richard had not fought like the Devil. Now he has fled, and I am left here in the hope that Abbot Ywain can protect me.’

‘I doubt anyone will harm you,’ said Geoffrey gently.

‘I was worried about our travelling companions, too,’ sobbed Leah. Geoffrey perched next to her. ‘So I sent our apprentices to find out whether they were attacked. Gwgan was ambushed as he walked home last night, but everyone else is safe, thank God.’

‘Gwgan fought them off?’

‘He had just dispatched a unit of men to hunt for the outlaws, but, luckily, they heard the clash of arms and galloped back. The villains escaped, though; Gwgan said they knew the area.’

Geoffrey was thoughtful. He had delivered royal letters to Gwgan and Richard. Could it be that the ambushes since Brechene were aimed at them? He wondered whether Sear would become a target when given his letter. But such ponderings would have to wait. He turned to Leah.

‘I did not come here to talk about ambushes,’ he said. ‘I came to ask why you killed William.’

There was silence, and Geoffrey was aware of chaffinches twittering as they squabbled for the crumbs that had been brushed outside the kitchen door. He could hear the river, too, a soft gurgle as it flowed towards the sea. It was peaceful and idyllic, and it was difficult to believe he was sitting next to a poisoner.

Leah gaped at him. ‘But I am one of few people who could not have killed William: I was ill in bed when he died. Anyone will confirm my tale and tell you that my ailment was genuine, because I have never fully recovered my health.’

‘No,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘But that is because you were either careless with what is a very potent substance or unsure how to use it. You put it in the butter that your husband brought for his brother from Pulchria, but you did not need to be present when your victim ate it.’

‘What are you saying?’ cried Leah in horror. ‘These are terrible accusations!’

‘I am saying that I allowed myself to be misled by your alibi. Your whereabouts when William became ill and died are irrelevant – the poison could have been sent ages before he actually consumed it. But I imagine you did select Cornald’s butter as the way to get rid of him. And it was a perfect choice – a lot of people had access to it.’

‘Yes, they did,’ said Leah, white with shock. ‘It was a gift from Pulchria, and she is a much more likely candidate for murder than me – she was terribly bitter when William rejected her. And you know for a fact that she dislikes being repelled, because she threatened you, too.’

‘She did, but it was all hot air. Besides, she thought Joan kept wolf-tooth for killing rats, but it is never used for that purpose. Her knowledge of poisons is deficient. I know she did not kill Mabon for the same reason.’

‘But Cornald’s knowledge is not deficient,’ said Leah. ‘And he made the butter.’

‘Cornald has an aversion to wolf-tooth and would not have used it. I know he is telling the truth, because of the rash he developed after touching the phial that killed Mabon. Besides, he has been Joan’s friend for years, and I trust her judgement.’

‘Then what about Delwyn?’ asked Leah desperately. ‘Or Bishop Wilfred? Both were lurking in the kitchen where the butter was stored.’

‘Neither would have risked meddling with poisons while the other was there – abbey and Bishop hate each other, and any suspicious behaviour would have been exposed with glee.’

‘But there are others,’ insisted Leah. ‘Sear-’

‘Sear’s grief was genuine. He did not kill his friend. The same goes for Richard.’

‘Hywel and Gwgan had access to Rhydygors, too. And Hywel inherited the castle…’

‘Hywel could not have known seven years ago that he would be awarded Rhydygors for fighting Belleme on the Marches. And Gwgan has learned enough about poisons from Isabella not to inflict a lingering death on his victim. If he had been the killer, he would have used something quicker. He was appalled by William’s suffering.’

‘But there were servants…’

‘Yes, the list of suspects is enormous,’ acknowledged Geoffrey. ‘And you must have been delighted by the way events unfolded, with everyone accusing everyone else. The only problem was that you were affected by the poison, too, and almost lost your life over it. Of course, it did mean you were the last person anyone would ever suspect.’

‘That is because I am innocent,’ protested Leah.

‘William told Delwyn that he had been killed by a dear friend. I imagine he considered you – the wife of his beloved brother – a dear friend.’

‘Well, yes, he did, but why would I kill a man everyone loved? Besides, Richard was heartbroken when William died.’

‘Yes, he did love his brother. Perhaps more than you realized, because I doubt you intended to cause him so much pain. You killed William because you knew that, as long as he lived, Richard would never have anything. William was the better man in all respects-’

‘No!’ cried Leah. ‘William was never the better man! His sickly saintliness was ridiculous, and I hated the way everyone kept comparing the two and finding Richard lacking. It was unfair.’

She flushed in horror when she saw her outburst was effectively an admission of guilt. Then she closed her eyes and slumped in defeat. ‘All right. How did you guess?’

‘The apothecary has just told me that you regularly buy herbs to make remedies for the headaches that plague you. About the time William died, you started using wolf-tooth. It is beneficial in small quantities, and you have no doubt learned to use it properly since. But seven years ago, you shoved some in William’s butter and subjected him to a terrible death.’

‘You cannot prove it,’ said Leah, with a spark of defiance. ‘So what if I buy wolf-tooth? You cannot prove it was my supply that killed him – or even that he was poisoned at all. If you dig him up, he will be nothing but bones and dust. And people will never believe what you are saying. They all think I am too feeble.’