Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

The air was clearer where Joan had pulled him, and Geoffrey took a deep breath and leaned back against one of the walls. To his horror, he felt part of it crumble.

“Think of something else,” said Joan, crouching near him and taking one of his hands in hers. “There are many things about this mystery that I do not understand. For example, this tunnel was very busy the night Godric died. I am confused about the order of events. Will you clarify that for me?”

Geoffrey understood that she was attempting to distract him from his escalating terror of the cavern, and that she was trying to be kind. He did not feel in the least like listing a catalogue of his relatives’ deeds that fateful night, but the logical part of his mind told him it was probably better to occupy himself with something other than fevered imaginings about cave-ins.

He took another deep breath and began. “You were all concerned over Father’s new will, and Hedwise determined that Henry was not to be cheated out of his inheritance. She decided that if he could not obtain it by legitimate means, she would try alternative methods. As the Earl slumbered happily to the dulcet tones of Olivier’s rebec, Hedwise prepared some of her infamous fish soup. …” He paused, the mere thought of it making his stomach churn.

“I do not like it much either,” said Joan. “You know she uses the giblets, blood, and heads of fish to produce that very strong flavour?”

Geoffrey thought he was going to be sick. “I hate fish.”

“Olivier loves it,” said Joan fondly. “But we digress. Hedwise prepared her broth …”

“And flavoured it with enough ergot and poppy powder to kill. She gave me a bowl before we slept. Walter was blind drunk. Her intention was to return early the next morning, feed more of the poisoned soup to Father, and have Walter blamed for both murders.”

“But you do not like fish,” predicted Joan. “And so you did not finish the soup.”

The cave leapt into light as Henry returned, bearing a stout bar. Joan released Geoffrey’s hand and moved away quickly, almost guiltily, as though one Mappestone showing affection for another was something to be ashamed of.

“This should do it,” said Henry. “Did I hear you talking about Hedwise’s fish soup? Delicious stuff! It is the one thing about her I will miss if she is imprisoned for attempted murder.”

“I did not finish the soup,” said Geoffrey. “Although the little I drank was enough to render me insensible for the rest of the night. I saw and heard nothing until Henry did the honours with his bucket of water the following morning.”

Henry chuckled, and paused in his labour to wink at Geoffrey. “That was a satisfying moment, I can tell you-one of the very few in the history of our relationship, I might add.”

“Do be quiet, Henry,” snapped Joan. “We are not on a pleasant excursion here. We are dealing with a murderer who is escaping as you waste valuable time with trivialities.”

Henry winked at Geoffrey again, and started to heave and push at the lever. Geoffrey resumed his tale.

“While Walter snored in his drunken slumber and I was drugged, you emerged from the tunnel where you had been searching for Rohese. You moved the chest that I had placed to block the door, assuming that Walter had put it there for some obscure purpose rather than my precaution against hostile intruders. Meanwhile, Rohese was hidden between Father’s mattresses-”

“So that is where she was,” said Joan, nodding appreciation. “How clever of her.” She gave Geoffrey a sideways glance. “Or, more likely, how clever of you.”

“Be quiet, Joan,” said Henry. “We are not on a pleasant excursion here. A murderer escapes while you waste time with trivialities.”

“While you waste time!” said Joan, angered by his irritating manner. “It is not I who cannot open the door so that we might give chase. Lord! What was that?”

A heavy thump sounded against the door.

“Enide,” said Geoffrey, grimly. “She is still blocking the door with stones. Hurry, Henry! The longer we take to open it, the more difficult it will become.”

“You mean she is on the other side of the door now?” asked Henry, amazed. “She has not fled?”

“No,” said Geoffrey, exasperated at his brother’s slowness. “She is continuing to block the door. Give me the lever if you cannot move it.”

“I can do it,” said Henry, pushing Geoffrey away. “Carry on with this tale of yours. It will make me angry, and I am stronger when I am angry.”

Geoffrey exchanged a long-suffering glance with Joan, and continued his story.

“As Father, Rohese, Walter, and I slept, Stephen emerged from the tunnel. He had been to see a dog in the village, and Malger’s guards would not let him back in again. He used the tunnel instead. In this very room, he met Enide-each giving the other the fright of their lives if Stephen is to be believed-and Enide told him of the plot to kill King Henry. She wanted his help, which he declined to give her, and so she settled for him taking a message to Father.”

“So Stephen opened the door that had been locked from the inside when I had been looking for Rohese,” said Joan thoughtfully. “And I was just an arm’s reach from Enide.”

“Yes,” said Geoffrey. “If you rattled the door, you probably startled her, and Stephen also using the tunnel must have convinced her that she could stay here no longer. She doubtless went to seek sanctuary with Malger. Stephen did not want to disturb Father in the middle of the night, so he decided to wait until dawn. Shortly before he arrived, Walter woke and went to find some breakfast, and Rohese woke and began exploring the tunnel for something to do.”

“She is a nosy girl,” said Joan, nodding. “I told her it would lead her into trouble. Julianna is the same.”

“When Stephen came to speak to Father, Rohese was in the tunnel, Walter had left, and I was drugged. I imagine he tried to wake me to tell me to leave, but obviously was unsuccessful. When Stephen told him about the plot, Father was horrified. Rohese heard him yelling. She also heard him mention Tirel, the man who really shot Rufus-or so the Court claims-and Norbert the scribe, who was the marksman who was to kill King Henry. Stephen left, and Father, seeing that he would be unable to prevent the plan being put into action, stabbed himself. Rohese came when she heard him groaning. She said he blamed us for his death.”

“But you said he killed himself,” said Henry. “Make up your mind!”

“He means metaphorically, Henry,” said Joan impatiently. “He blamed Stephen for bringing him the news, and Enide and Walter for plotting, I suppose. We three had nothing to do with it.”

“Father told Rohese to hide in the tunnel until it was safe to come out. This she did, and was here days later when I found her. After Rohese had fled, Hedwise arrived, armed with some of her poisoned fish soup for Father. She was appalled to find her plan had gone so badly wrong: Father was already dead, Walter had recovered from his drunkenness and had left, and I was still alive. She decided that she still might gain something from it, if she acted quickly. She pulled Father’s knife from his stomach and tossed it out of the window. Then she emptied the pitcher of wine after it, and stabbed him in the chest with my Arabian dagger.”

“I see,” said Joan. “By making it look as though you had downed the wine and stabbed Godric, she could eliminate you as a potential rival for the estates.”

“Yes-although she was disappointed not to have eliminated Walter instead. Later, she returned and added ergot to the bottle of wine Stephen gave me, so that I would not be able to tell whether she or Stephen had poisoned me. Later still, she decided that was too risky, and so she cleaned the broth bowl and put a new bottle of wine in place of the poisoned one, forgetting to break the seal.”