Simon Beaufort - Deadly Inheritance

‘God’s teeth!’ he spluttered. His lips were numb and there was a foul taste in his mouth that made him want to be sick. ‘Have you poisoned me?’

‘You are not supposed to gulp it like ale,’ said Elgiva with a disapproving frown. ‘It is to be sipped and savoured. What a waste!’

Geoffrey set the cup on the hearth, feeling an odd weakness in his legs, while the liquid continued to scald his stomach.

‘You do not remember me, do you?’ said Elgiva through the gloom. ‘I gave you salves when you were injured in childish play.’

After the Devil’s brew he had just downed, Geoffrey’s mind was a blank about her salves. ‘It was a long time ago. Are you a witch?’ he asked.

‘I prefer “wise woman”. “Witch” conveys the wrong impression. I know the plants of the forest and people come to me for advice. They go to Father Adrian, too, but they prefer me because I do not force them into penance for honest mistakes.’

‘I also do not know how to make women un-pregnant, or how to render a man potent in the marriage bed!’ called Adrian caustically. ‘However, when they are in distress, it is God’s comfort they crave, not a mouthful of that stuff I use for cleaning my pigsty.’

‘I imagine there is room for both,’ said Geoffrey, before they could argue. ‘I do not suppose Isabel came to you with her problem, did she? For the child that might have been Henry’s?’

‘I could not say,’ replied Elgiva, but she looked away. Geoffrey heard voices outside, followed by a laugh. Father Adrian had met some parishioners, and was no longer listening.

‘When did she come?’ he asked.

She regarded him coolly. ‘Perhaps I should not have invited you here. You are too quick. Poor Isabel. By the time she summoned me, it was already too late and the girl-child she carried was lost.’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘If I gave you a potion to bring Ralph back to her, would you make sure he drank it?’

‘Only if you assure me it will kill him in the process.’

Elgiva cackled her amusement. ‘He is a headstrong man, so my elixir of mandrake will have to be a powerful one, or it will not work.’

‘ Mandrake ?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘I thought that was poisonous.’

‘Only in the wrong hands. It can cause vomiting and purging.’

‘Do you know Eleanor de Bicanofre? She is a wise woman, too.’

‘No, she is a witch,’ corrected Elgiva. ‘I hear she is missing, which is a bad thing. With women like Eleanor, it is always best to know where they are.’

Geoffrey recalled the laughing eyes when Eleanor had removed the splinters from his arm. She had done him no harm, and he did not like the way people maligned her. ‘She is all right.’

Elgiva pursed her lips. ‘You and Hugh are the only ones who think so. He is smitten, and it is to her credit that she has not pushed him over a cliff. I wonder what she is planning with him this time. The last time they went missing was September.’

‘That is when Henry died.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Elgiva, meeting his eyes. ‘I saw them in the woods about a week before his murder. It is rumoured that she put a curse on Henry.’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘He pulled off her veil in a drunken rage. He claimed it was accidental; she says otherwise. But she was angry, because it showed her jaw had been blown off during a demonic experiment.’

‘So, you consider her a suspect for Henry’s murder?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Because even if she did not wield the dagger herself, she chanted evil charms?’

Elgiva took a sip from her cup. ‘I do not know who dispatched your brother – his killer made sure there were no witnesses, although Jervil heard them talking. Later, Jervil told me Henry cursed everyone with his dying breath, including Joan. Henry predicted you would come and expel her, and subdue Goodrich with a mailed fist.’

‘Is that why people are suspicious of me? Henry’s deranged ramblings?’

‘They do not know what to expect!’ called Father Adrian, listening once again. ‘Perhaps it is my fault. I preached hard against the Crusade, and my descriptions of Jerosolimitani as blood-drenched, lust-craven thieves were powerful.’

‘Jervil is dead,’ said Geoffrey to Elgiva, not deigning to address the priest’s prejudices. ‘He was strangled after selling a dagger to Baderon. He was paid in silver, but that had disappeared when I saw his body.’

‘You had a rummage, did you?’ asked Elgiva wryly. ‘Perhaps you are not so different from Henry, after all. But tell me about this dagger. What did it look like?’

‘There was a ruby in its hilt.’

‘ A ruby ?’ asked Elgiva. ‘The Black Knife Joan gave Father Adrian contained an emerald.’

‘It did,’ agreed Father Adrian. ‘In that case the dagger Jervil sold Baderon was not the one I had in my church. It was not the one that killed Henry, either – so Jervil’s transaction with Baderon can have nothing to do with your brother’s death.’

‘I think it was exchanged in Joan’s bedchamber,’ explained Geoffrey. Jervil had the real one; you did not.’ He turned his attention to Elgiva. ‘How well did Jervil know Baderon?’

Elgiva grinned, pleased to show off her knowledge. ‘Joan used Jervil as a messenger, because he was a good rider. He often visited Monmouth when she needed to communicate with Baderon.’

Geoffrey rubbed his chin. It seemed obvious that Baderon or one of his knights had killed Jervil, either so he could never tell anyone that Baderon had the murder weapon, or to retrieve the silver Baderon had paid for it. And Margaret was murdered because she had witnessed the killing. Or was that too simple an explanation?

‘Can you tell me any more about Henry?’ he asked.

‘I cannot list all the folk who bore him a grudge,’ said Elgiva. ‘We would be here all day. There was not a man, woman or child on Goodrich’s estates who did not hate him.’

‘But none of these owned a jewelled dagger,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘And if they had, they would not have left it behind.’

‘True,’ admitted Elgiva. ‘That narrows your list. But you still have Caerdig, Corwenna, Ralph, fitzNorman and Isabel. Margaret also disliked Henry, because of what happened to her niece. Then there are Baderon’s knights. Not Baderon himself, though.’

‘Why not?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Too indecisive,’ replied Elgiva. Geoffrey dismissed her opinion; Baderon’s indecision was not a good enough reason to strike him from the list.

‘I do not think it was Baderon, either,’ said Father Adrian. ‘He and Henry treated each other with respect, and were on better terms than one would have imagined – especially given Henry’s callous rejection of Hilde.’

‘You say no one from Goodrich killed Henry, because the dagger was such a fine weapon,’ said Elgiva. ‘However, Joan and Olivier like to entertain, and many of their visitors are wealthy. Some are so rich that they might not miss a jewelled dagger, if it were “borrowed” by a servant.’

‘You think a servant stole the blade and used it to kill my brother?’

Elgiva shrugged. ‘Why not? Jervil detested Henry, and so did others. Many would have willingly stabbed him. And do not forget Joan and Olivier, either. They struggled to protect Goodrich from Henry’s depredations. So ask yourself why they are so determined to let his murder lie?’

It rained that afternoon, bringing those who had gone hawking home earlier than expected. Joan lit additional fires, and the whole castle became hot, stuffy and uncomfortable. The conversation was mostly about the upcoming entertainment at Bicanofre. Walter and Agnes were delighted at the prospect, while Baderon intimated that they were likely to be disappointed. Maliciously, Seguin and Lambert exaggerated Bicanofre’s charms to the point where the Bishop’s family could not help but be disappointed. Geoffrey grew tired of the lot of them, and climbed the spiral stairs until he reached the battlements.