Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

“ She is my family,” said Ingram fiercely.

“You are distressing the boy,” said Adrian, standing and glaring at Geoffrey. “I must ask you to leave.”

“Willingly, Father,” said Geoffrey. “Get up, Ingram. You are not dying. Your wound is only superficial. If you had ever fought a battle in the Holy Land, instead of skulking in some dark cellar until it was time to come and join in the looting, you would know this very well. Fortunately for you, the chalice deflected the knife, and your mother’s blow was not a fatal one.”

Astonished, Ingram sat up, poking at himself doubtfully. “I will not die?”

“Not yet,” said Geoffrey. “Although you have the physician’s murder to answer for.”

“Give me the cup,” said Ingram, making a grab for it. “I will need it to hire lawyers.”

Geoffrey caught his wrist. “You gave it to Father Adrian for his church, and that is where it will stay. If you steal it, I will hunt you down and chop your hands off.”

Ingram paled.

“You are a fool,” said Geoffrey, wearily. “And that is your best defence. How could you believe that Enide is your mother? Plead insanity to the judges, Ingram-tell them that you believed that a Norman lady gave birth to you when she was only eight years old, and yet managed to keep the secret so that only she knew; tell them that you gave her all your wealth in order to become lord of the manor at Goodrich; and tell them that you had a tiny scratch on your arm and you made a confession to the priest because you believed you were dying.”

From where she was being held in Henry’s tight embrace, Enide laughed bitterly. “Greed, my dear brother. People will believe all manner of insanities for wealth and property.”

“Enide!” said Father Adrian, turning shocked eyes on her. “What evil have you done now? You used me, you used Ingram, and you have killed. Confess now, before the Devil comes to claim you.”

Enide sobered suddenly and went limp in Henry’s arms. “You are right,” she said softly. “I will make my confession. You can let me go, Henry. I will not try to escape.”

“No, Henry!” yelled Geoffrey, as Henry released her.

Freed from his grip, Enide spun round, and kicked Henry hard in the shins. As he staggered, she shoved him hard, so that he fell backwards into Joan, who was advancing purposefully. Both went tumbling to the ground. Henry bellowed in pain and fury, while Joan spat some ripe curses. And then Enide was off again, tearing along the river path with almost impossible speed.

“After her!” shouted Joan, although Geoffrey was already running. “Father Adrian, stay with Ingram. And do not let him escape, or you will have even more on your conscience.”

Clever Joan, thought Geoffrey as he ran. Adrian was already wracked with guilt over his unwitting role in Enide’s plotting-Joan’s statement would ensure that Ingram would not escape him.

Enide managed a remarkable pace, although Geoffrey knew she would be unable to sustain it for long. She disappeared around a corner and, afraid that he would lose her in the forest if he could not see her, Geoffrey ran faster. He tore blindly round the bend, expecting to see her running ahead of him on the path. His mind registered that she was not there at exactly the same time that the branch swung towards his ankles and he lost his balance, stumbling to his knees. He saw her dagger glint, and heard Joan scream behind him. As Enide brought the dagger down, aiming for his unprotected neck, Geoffrey took a hold of her legs, and pulled her off balance. Then they were both rolling down the bank and into the brown, churning water.

For a moment, all Geoffrey could do was to struggle wildly, trying to claw free of the choking water and of Enide who clung to him. Then he felt the soft bottom of the river-bed under his feet, and he fought to stand upright.

“Take my hand!” yelled Henry, sliding down the bank towards him.

Geoffrey reached out, but then Enide was on him, dagger flashing as, even in the dire peril of being swept down the river, she tried to stab him. He lost his footing, and they were both away, gasping and struggling as the current caught them and dragged them farther from the banks. Geoffrey wanted to shout to stop her, but his mouth was full of water, and he knew she would not listen anyway. Enide was doomed, and she intended to take Geoffrey with her.

She lashed out wildly with the dagger, stabbing at him when he tried to push her away. Her frenzy was more than he could combat, and he felt himself losing ground. He tried to hold the arm that brandished the knife, but his own hands were cold and clumsy, and he did not possess her demonic strength. He kicked away from her, and saw her disappear from his sight. Thinking that she must have been swept away, he turned, and tried to strike out for the bank.

He had made some headway when he felt his legs grabbed from underneath, and then his world was nothing other than the roar of water and filthy brown bubbles. He kicked loose, but felt Enide’s one good hand clawing at his stomach, gaining a hold on his belt. He wondered whether she had risen from the dead after all, for whereas Geoffrey was growing weaker and was struggling for breath, Enide did not seem to need any.

She ducked him under a second him, putting her arm around his neck like a vise. He bit her as hard as he could, and felt himself released momentarily. Then a floating branch caught him on the side of his head, and he felt his senses darkening. He began to feel as though he no longer cared: the intense, numbing cold of the water passed and the burning sensation in his lungs began to recede.

Then she had him again, fastening her good arm around his chest, and dragging him through the water. But at least he could breathe. He looked up at the sky above, and wondered distantly whether it was blue or just dark grey. Then his feet were touching the river-bed, and he was aware the current no longer dragged and tore at him-and he realised that the arms around his chest were supportive rather than bent on his destruction.

Strong hands reached out to haul him and Joan from the water, both coughing and gasping.

“I almost lost you both!” cried Henry, horror in his voice. “The current was so strong!”

Geoffrey saw what they had done. Joan had tied a rope around her waist and had gone into the water to catch him as he drifted past. Henry had hauled them both out again. Geoffrey could not have imagined such trusting co-operation occurring a week before, when the most important thing in their lives was the inheritance of Goodrich.

He sat up, still gasping for breath.

“Geoffrey! Are you all right? She was trying to drown you!” yelled Henry, pounding his younger brother vigorously on the back.

“I had noticed,” said Geoffrey, raising an arm to fend him off. “But you saved my life.”

“I do not know why,” Henry muttered. “I suppose I did not want that witch to deprive me of doing something I have been longing to do for years.”

“Thank you anyway, both of you,” said Geoffrey, scanning the water for Enide. It was brown and flat, and there was no sign of her.

“She is dead,” said Joan softly. “She was swept past me when I was reaching for you. Her eyes were open, but she was dead.”

“Are you sure?” asked Geoffrey doubtfully.

“Of course!” said Henry. “No one could survive that. You would not have lasted much longer yourself. Look at that current! I wager you it will only get stronger as you go downstream.”

“So, I leave Goodrich as I arrived,” said Geoffrey, wiping the water from his eyes. “Soaking wet after a dip in the river.”

“You are leaving, then?” asked Joan.

“Yes,” said Geoffrey. “Today or tomorrow.”