A Poisonous Plot by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page B

your monarch?’ demanded Cew in a booming voice that he would never have used had he been well. ‘Then kneel before us.’
    ‘Lord!’ muttered Michael, watching Bartholomew push a table under the window so that he could stand on it and help Cew down. ‘He has been like this ever since Frenge startled him?’
    Wayt nodded. ‘I have heard that a violent fright can turn a man’s wits, and that is what happened when Frenge hid behind a buttress and leapt out. I saw it happen, and I witnessed the terror on Cew’s face. It was a wicked thing to do.’
    Bartholomew climbed on the table and offered Cew his hand. With great solemnity, Cew gave him the apple to hold while he made his descent. When he was down, he reclaimed the fruit and went to sit by the hearth, where he recited a list of all the French barons who had lost their lives at Poitiers, complete with a description of the armour they had worn. Unlucky chance had put Bartholomew at that particular battle, so he was able to say with certainty that Cew’s analysis was uncannily accurate.
    ‘He is very pale,’ he observed. ‘Has he been eating properly?’
    ‘He will only accept oysters and soul-cakes,’ replied Dodenho. ‘He says those are all that is fit for the royal palate.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But they block his innards, and he has not been to the latrine in days.’
    ‘We summoned Nigellus the day Frenge did this terrible thing to Cew,’ Wayt went on, ‘because he is the most expensive of the University physicians and therefore must be the best. He spent hours calculating a horoscope, then told us that Cew would only recover if we took him to stand under an oak tree in the light of the next full moon.’
    ‘But it was raining on those particular nights,’ added Dodenho. ‘And Cew refused to leave his rooms anyway. He thought the Prince of Wales might be out there, and he is wary of him after what happened at Poitiers. Do you have any advice, Bartholomew?’
    Bartholomew was tempted to say that he had, and that it was never to hire Nigellus again. But diplomacy prevailed and he kept his opinion of the Zachary medicus to himself.
    ‘Ailments of the mind are a mystery to me, I am afraid, and you are already doing what I would recommend – making sure his needs are met, and preventing him from harming himself.’
    ‘These rumours about Frenge,’ said Wayt, turning to Michael. ‘Are they true? Is he dead in the Austin Priory?’
    Michael nodded. ‘He was poisoned – murdered.’
    ‘I do not believe that, and neither should you,’ scoffed Wayt. ‘I imagine he broke in intent on mischief, but was struck down for his audacity – God had obviously had enough of him. There was a tale that he planned to raid us again tonight, so I cannot say I am sorry he is no longer a threat.’
    ‘Do not blame Frenge’s death on the Almighty,’ warned Michael sternly. ‘If you do, we shall have even more trouble with the town.’
    ‘I do not care. If they do not want a war, they should not have applauded Frenge’s crime.’ Wayt rounded on Bartholomew. ‘And speaking of crime, can you do nothing to stop your sister from killing us all? Her dyeworks are poisoning the river.’
    ‘It is true, Matthew,’ said Dodenho. ‘All the fish are dead, and I am sure she was responsible for that bout of sickness at Trinity Hall last week. After all, it happened after they drank ale made with water from the river and—’
    ‘That ale was from Frenge’s brewery,’ interrupted Wayt. ‘Doubtless he and Edith conspired together to bring Trinity Hall low.’
    ‘Actually, the culprit was a syllabub,’ said Bartholomew coolly. ‘Which had nothing to do with my sister or Frenge. I tasted it myself and the cream was bad – not to mention the fact that it was so sweet as to be unpleasantly cloying.’
    ‘Probably because it was stuffed full of sucura,’ said Dodenho.
    ‘Sucura?’ queried Bartholomew.
    ‘The sweet powder from Tyre that Sheriff Tulyet has