The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

Still muttering doubts, the other two let Humphrey lead the way to High Street. He looked like a fat cockerel, with a red-feathered velvet hat and a bright blue surcoat over his black tunic. His companions were much more soberly dressed in greys and browns – and Erasmus Crote looked definitely shabby. When they reached the house, the front door was answered by the bottler, Hamelin Beauford, who seemed to double as a general factotum in the household, as well as looking after the supply of ale and wine. He was a big man, but was pasty-faced and looked unhealthy to the trio of physicians who now confronted him.

‘You will know that we are your late master’s medical colleagues in the city,’ Humphrey began imperiously. ‘We have come to express our condolences to your mistress and to offer any assistance we can.’

Hamelin looked distinctly unimpressed and made no attempt to invite them across the threshold. ‘I will fetch Edward Stogursey to see what he has to say about that,’ he grunted. He vanished into the house, leaving them on the doorstep, with the door almost closed upon them.

‘Insolent fellow, he needs a clip around the ear!’ snarled Humphrey. ‘We are professional men, not some poxy apothecary,’

‘This Stogursey is not even that; he is a servant with ideas above his station,’ agreed Erasmus. However, short of barging into the house uninvited, they had little choice but to wait, and in a few moments Edward appeared, the bottler standing behind him as if to repel any invasion.

‘We have come to offer our felicitations to Mistress Giffard at this sad time, my man,’ said Humphrey in his grand manner. ‘Please conduct us to her.’

Stogursey made no reply at first. He stared at the three men, then his eyes returned to Erasmus Crote.

‘You were here yesterday,’ he stated flatly. ‘I conveyed your good wishes to my mistress then.’

This exhausted Humphrey’s limited patience.

‘Listen, fellow! We are the only other physicians in this city and it is a matter of civic importance that the citizens can all have the benefit of our skills. We need to speak with Mistress Giffard.’

Edward Stogursey regarded them for a long moment, until it was almost insolent. Then he shrugged and raised his hands. ‘She is in no mood to receive visitors, but I will enquire.’

He grudgingly allowed them into the hallway and told them to wait, though there were no chairs or benches in evidence.

‘That insolent bastard treats us like servants,’ growled Blundus. ‘It’s a wonder he didn’t make us go around to the tradesmen’s gate at the back!’

They fretted for another ten minutes before Edward returned and grudgingly told them that Mistress Giffard had agreed to see them, but that they must not detain her for longer than a few minutes, as she was sorely distressed over the loss of her husband.

With Hamelin Beauford still lurking behind them, Edward led them to a staircase and then to a solar at the back of the house, which looked over the garden. Eleanor Giffard sat on a chair near the glazed window, gazing through it at the bench upon which Robert had rested during his illness. In a long black gown with widely flared sleeves, she possessed an elegance that the perceptive Erasmus thought was the reason why so many young widows were soon remarried. Seated on a stool in a corner was Evelyn, a stout middle-aged woman who was her personal maid and now apparently acted as her chaperone.

Eleanor stared coldly at the three men, who now stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. She recalled what her husband had said about them, their poor showing as physicians and their envy at his monopoly of the medical trade in Bristol.

‘You wished to see me?’ she asked stonily.

This time, Erasmus Crote hastened to reply before Humphrey.

‘As you probably know, madam, we are the other three physicians in this city – now, alas, the only three since the tragic loss of your husband. We wished, as his colleagues, to offer our most sincere condolences at this unhappy time and to offer you any professional assistance that you might require.’

Mistress Giffard unbent a little and gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

‘That is considerate of you, sirs. My husband was taken from me by foul intent, but the coroner and sheriff will doubtless find the murderer and he will pay the ultimate penalty.’

Humphrey shouldered his way back into the conversation. ‘We came not only to offer you sympathy, mistress – but to see how we can best assist you in the continuation of your husband’s medical services to the citizens – if indeed, you desire to continue it.’

William Blundus, afraid of being left out of any negotiations, stepped in hastily. ‘We are ready to accept any of Robert’s patients who are in need of attention – it can be harmful and indeed dangerous for there to be an interruption in treatment.’ He saw the lady exchange a look with the Stogursey before she replied.

‘That will be no problem, thank you. Tomorrow, I am sending a messenger by the fastest route to the prior of the hospital of St Bartholomew in London. My husband, who trained and worked there for some years, was well known to him and he will undoubtedly find a worthy physician who can take over this practice.’

‘But that might take many weeks, madam!’ protested Humphrey, aghast at the proposition. ‘What is to happen to your patients in the meantime?’

‘Edward here knows all of them and is well acquainted with their diagnosis and treatment, as he worked alongside my husband every day. Until permanent arrangements are made, he can tide us over the problem.’

Erasmus made an attempt at protesting: ‘But with respect, Mistress Giffard, this man is totally unqualified. He has never attended a medical school nor walked any wards – nor even mastered the art of an apothecary. It is unseemly for such a person to masquerade as a physician, especially to such eminent people who are some of your late husband’s patients.’

Edward Stogursey glowered at this naked insult, but Eleanor was dismissive of Erasmus Crote’s objections.

‘Perhaps he has no formal credentials, but our patients know him and trust him as a faithful assistant to my husband. It is up to them whether they cleave to his ministrations in this urgent situation. I suspect most will, but if not, they are free to seek the aid of common apothecaries in the city or transfer their trust to one of you gentlemen.’

She sat down again and, pulling a kerchief from her sleeve, buried her face in it. Her tire-woman, Evelyn, at once moved to her side and put an arm around her shoulders.

‘The lady is overwrought, sirs!’ she protested, throwing an urgent glance at Edward, who immediately stepped forward.

‘I think you should leave now,’ he said harshly. ‘My mistress is no state for further conversation.’

He made it an order, not a request and, opening the chamber door, stood by it until they filed out. Hamelin, the bottler, received them outside with a sour face and escorted them down the stairs and out of the front door, which closed firmly behind them.

In the street, Humphrey, unaccustomed to such slights, turned furiously to his companions. ‘Getting rid of us was arranged beforehand! That woman is as hard as iron. She put on that weeping fit just to get rid of us.’

They began slouching their way back towards the High Cross, dispirited and annoyed at their lack of success.

‘She did say that their patients were free to choose someone else to treat them,’ offered William Blundus, to salvage something for their pride.

‘Ha! Did you notice that she put apothecaries before us in that choice?’ he snarled. ‘That was a calculated insult!’

Erasmus raised a placatory hand. ‘We’ve done all we can… now we can only hope that common sense will prevail amongst at least some of their customers. When they find that they have a charlatan as their only recourse when they’re ill, maybe they’ll see that a proper doctor is preferable.’