A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

‘You told me once you were an alchemist.’

‘I wouldn’t go so far. But I have studied the subject.’

‘If you wanted to procure wolf’s-bane, enough to poison someone, how would you go about doing it?’

‘Most apothecaries carry a stock. It is used in preparing certain medicines.’ Courcy considered for a moment. ‘There were apothecary’s shops in Caen, and Saint-Lô.’

‘Someone might have stolen the wolf’s-bane from one of those shops.’

‘They might, but you would really have to know what you were doing. Even touching the stuff can be dangerous. And only an educated man would recognise aconitum for what it is. Like an alchemist,’ he added.

‘Or a priest?’

‘Only if he had studied medicine as well as theology. But that is not unknown at the universities.’ Courcy paused. ‘An educated man who is skilled at looting. Are you thinking of Nicodemus?’

‘Possibly.’

‘I heard what happened last night. Are you investigating this as well as young Bray’s death?’

‘Yes.’ The herald nodded towards the tent. ‘I am pleased to see that you and your wife are reconciled.’

Courcy grinned. ‘Oh, we’re all of that. Ever since we arrived at Lisieux we’ve been reconciling the arse off each other. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I said I wouldn’t be long.’

The red and yellow colours of Tracey were clearly visible in the distance. Beyond them was the camp of the Red Company, neat and orderly amid the haphazard jumble of tents. Tracey’s esquire greeted the herald with an air of polite curiosity. ‘I wish to speak with your master,’ Merrivale said.

Tracey came out of the pavilion at once. ‘Leave us,’ he said curtly to the esquire. The young man walked away and Tracey faced the herald. ‘What?’

‘Tell me more about your archer Nicodemus,’ Merrivale said.

‘Is this about last night?’

‘Of course.’

‘Why do you suspect Nicodemus was involved?’

‘I did not say I did. I asked you to tell me about him.’

‘He came into my service back in ’40,’ Tracey said. ‘I don’t know a great deal about him.’

‘Did you know he was a defrocked priest?’

‘I heard something about that, yes.’

‘And he then worked as clerk to a banker?’

‘Yes. I believe his master was killed when the French attacked Southampton.’

Merrivale nodded. ‘So he is not just an archer. He is also your factor. He buys spoil from the soldiers at cheap prices for ready money, and you transport the goods back to England and sell them at a profit.’

Tracey gazed at him. ‘I take it you disapprove.’

‘It is not my place to approve or disapprove,’ Merrivale said. ‘Nicodemus deals in stolen goods of all kind, and it is conceivable that those goods included aconitum. He has connections with two people in the royal kitchen, including the man who made the sauce, and he visited the kitchen yesterday evening while the feast was being prepared.’

‘And you think one of those men poisoned the sauce? Then have them arrested!’

Merrivale shook his head. ‘The poison was added in the prince’s kitchen or at the banqueting hall, and only to the pot intended for our table.’

‘Then Nicodemus didn’t do it. He returned to my camp before the feast and spent the evening here working on accounts. My esquire was with him the entire time.’

‘I did not accuse him of administering the poison. But he may have procured it.’

‘You are barking up the wrong tree, Merrivale. For God’s sake, I was at that table too! It could have been me they were trying to poison, not Despenser.’

‘All the more reason, surely, to find out if Nicodemus was involved. Perhaps he was intending to betray you.’

‘Nonsense. He has served me faithfully for years.’

‘Money does strange things to a man, Sir Edward, and I imagine this venture of yours involves a great deal of money. Perhaps he got greedy and wanted it all for himself.’

Tracey shook his head in exasperation. ‘My venture has brought in a few hundred pounds, herald, no more. Not a fortune, and certainly not enough to kill a man for.’

That was not the picture Mauro had painted. ‘Really? I have known men to plot murder for far less. If you are shielding him, Sir Edward, I would advise you to be very careful…’

Inquisition into the attempted poisoning of Hugh Despenser, knight, near the village of Léaupartie in Normandy on the Ist day of August in the nineteenth year of the reign of King Edward III. This report was composed on the IInd day of that month, at the city of Lisieux.

Item, the poison, a form of aconitum known as wolf’s-bane, was introduced into a single pot of sauce. This almost certainly happened at the prince’s kitchen or in the banqueting hall, not the royal kitchen. However, it remains to be seen how this was done.

Item, at no time was his Highness the Prince of Wales in danger.

Item, the source of the wolf’s-bane has not been identified, but I have lines of enquiry to pursue.

Simon Merrivale, heraldus

Lisieux, 2nd of August, 1346

Evening

Lamps glowed all around the royal pavilion. In the field outside, trestle tables were being unloaded from carts and set up, with benches arranged around them. Candles flickered like fireflies in the falling dusk.

The king read the brief report, the rings on his fingers glittering in the candlelight before handing the parchment to Northburgh. Lord Rowton watched him in silence. ‘This was not an attempt on my son’s life’, the king said.

‘I do not believe so, sire,’ Merrivale said.

Lord Rowton shook his head. ‘Perhaps Despenser put the poison there himself so he could accuse Mortimer and continue their feud.’

‘That is possible, my lord,’ the herald acknowledged.

The king growled under his breath. ‘When will these damned fools stop raking up the past? For Christ’s sake, we have a war to fight.’

‘A point made by your son with admirable clarity, sire,’ Merrivale said. ‘He commanded Mortimer and Despenser to apologise to each other.’

‘Good. Keep an eye on this Nicodemus.’

‘You wish me to continue my inquisition, sire, alongside the investigation into Bray’s death?’

‘No, you can drop that. Time to make an end, I think.’

‘Sire?’ said