The Butchers Funeral: A Medieval Murder by C. M. Harald Read Free Book Online Page A

would only deal with the more manic symptoms.  Henbane was an alternative and readily available, if you knew where to look, but he would not be able to get some until daylight. Perhaps if he mixed some henbane into his dwale, he could create a potion that would work?  He was not keen on the idea as his skill was with surgery, not potion making, and while he had heard of apothecaries mixing henbane into dwale, along with paper and hemlock, he was not certain if the potion would work the way he intended.  Nevertheless, Alvin did not rate the skills of the local apothecaries and he feared that if he requested their help they would accidentally give too great a dose of the more powerful ingredients, so it was all down to him.
     
    It was early the next morning that Alvin first heard of the death of the butcher.  He had only just left the lodging house, on his way to find some henbane, when he overheard several storekeepers discussing the latest gossip.
    'Butcher's dead you know.' Said one, 'He was found in the middle of the night and they say he was seeing spirits.  Didn't last out the night.'
    'That poor woman, left alone so young.' Said another.
    'Should think she'll be glad of the relief.  Don't want to talk bad of the dead, but we all know what he was like.' Replied the first.
    Alvin did not bother to interrupt them, but instead hurried to the Butcher's shop.  It was not yet open and he knew that the worst had occurred as all the neighbouring stalls were set out and a brisk morning trade was already developing.  He knocked several times on the shuttered front door, hard so that he could be heard upstairs.  That had drawn some looks from the passers-by in the street.  Soon everyone in the city would know that he had been treating the Butcher, not that this would damage his trade as people were always dying during surgery, and there was always a need for his trade.  However, there was the risk that Dionisia could accuse him of providing a poison which she had innocently administered.  That would certainly end his trade, and possibly his life, but he did not think that it was likely that she would say anything as she had deliberately given too much of the potion.  Eventually Albin, the apprentice opened the door to him, quickly ushering him in. 
    Upstairs he had found Col Butcher dead, pale as many of the recently departed were.  His wife was beside herself with worry, shocked at the outcome of the night.    She had explained that her husband had departed while she dozed during her vigil.  Dye was naturally upset, but they had quickly straightened their stories, neither wanting the other to get into trouble for the death: him for providing a poisonous potion; her for giving her husband too much.  Donald was certain he could trust her.  After all, they had shared many times together over the last couple of years, when her husband was busy.  He still felt strongly enough for her that he would not give up her mistake, and he expected that the feeling was mutual.  Besides, she had actually intended to give too high a dose, so she would not hand him in to the Constable and risk the story getting out.
     
    ' Grab 'im lads!'
                  Hands quickly seized Donald Alvin, restraining him on the bench in the tavern.  He had gone there for a few drinks after the funeral of Col Butcher.  Dusk had passed along with several drinks, relieved that both he and Dionisia Butcher had been able to keep their secret quiet.  He had been planning to move on to his next tour of the towns and villages in the morning.  Best away from the city and the complications that had arisen.  He had only stayed around to give Dye moral support in keeping their stories straight.
    'We'd like to 'ave a little chat with you Master Surgeon.'  The town constable addressed him, deferentially using his trade title.  Through the alcoholic fog Alvin remembered his name was Eric, 'If you would like to come with us now, sir.'
    Eric