The Hand of Justice

Bartholomew thought it would be more so, if Lavenham could guarantee that no other pots had been stolen. He knew the apothecary kept a record of who bought what — in order to help him predict what remedies might be needed at specific times of the year — and asked to see it. The entry under Water of Snails showed that ten phials had been sold: Rougham had purchased four at the end of February, while Morice, Cheney and Bernarde had each bought two the previous Tuesday. There were no other entries.

‘And you are sure you added no henbane?’ he pressed. ‘By accident?’

‘Of course not,’ said Isobel. ‘Henbane is poisonous — especially ours, which is concentrated. We would never use it in a potion that was to be swallowed. We always mix swallowing remedies on a different bench to the ones for external use, so mistakes such as the one you suggest cannot be made.’

‘Why do you ask about henbane?’ asked Dame Pelagia, taking Bartholomew’s arm and leading him outside. They left behind an apothecary who was more than a little alarmed by the encounter. Michael followed, first making an elegant bow to Isobel, although she was far too disconcerted to flirt with him. ‘Was it in the potion Warde drank before he died?’

‘Possibly,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But I cannot be sure, and now Quenhyth has destroyed what remained of it, I never will be.’

‘Pity,’ said Pelagia. ‘I, too, have reached the conclusion that Warde was murdered, and have been assessing the possibility that someone poisoned him. He was a King’s Commissioner and, in my experience, when such men meet untimely ends it is always wise to investigate them with care. You would be surprised how often they transpire to be sinister.’

‘I assure you I would not,’ said Bartholomew, who had plenty of experience with such matters himself although, he suspected, nowhere near as much as Dame Pelagia.

She smiled. ‘What have you learned so far?’

‘That Lavenham will lie to protect himself, and that it would be very easy to steal medicines from the cupboards in his shop. However, what I do not know is whether he put the henbane in Warde’s Water of Snails himself, or whether someone else added it after it had been sold.’

Dame Pelagia nodded. ‘I am in complete agreement with your conclusions. We shall both have to probe a little deeper into these unsavoury affairs.’

Dame Pelagia disappeared on business of her own after their meeting outside Lavenham’s shop, and Bartholomew had the distinct impression that the old lady was already several steps ahead of them. He went to St Botolph’s Church, where he inspected Warde’s body again, but there was little to see. The signs of henbane poisoning were impossible to spot after death and, apart from a faint rash on Warde’s face, the examination told him nothing. Then he attended Warde’s requiem, and returned to Michaelhouse. He felt dispirited and guilty, as though he had let the Valence Marie scholar down. When he met Michael in the conclave, the monk looked equally disheartened.

‘The Gonville scholars are back from Ely, and I asked them about this claim that they stand to gain the Mortimers as benefactors if they win the mill dispute. They denied the charge — and Rougham threatened to make an official complaint to the Bishop if I mentioned it again.’

‘Do you believe them?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘About the Mortimers’ alleged promise?’

Michael shrugged. ‘Then I questioned Rougham about what happened on Saturday with Warde. Pulham forced him to co-operate, but he was not happy about being interrogated by the “Murderer’s Familiar”, as he called me. He denies sending the potion to Warde, and claims the writing on the accompanying note is nothing like his own. I compared it with something else he had scribed, and, while the two were very similar, there were enough inconsistencies to make me hesitate. The upshot is that I do not know whether Rougham sent Warde the potion and the letter telling him to drink it.’

‘Who else might have done it?’

‘Not Paxtone,’ said Michael, reading his friend’s thoughts. ‘But perhaps someone from the Millers’ Society. Or someone from Valence Marie for reasons we do not yet understand. We admired Warde, but that does not mean his colleagues felt the same way.’

‘They did, Brother. He was honest and kind, and even townsfolk liked him. But at least we are clear on one thing: Warde was definitely murdered. I was inclined to believe so when Quenhyth fed the contents of the phial to Bird, but your grandmother has dispelled any lingering doubts.’

‘You say — and Rougham certainly agrees — that we do not have sufficient evidence to prove he did it, though,’ said Michael.

‘No, we do not. However, we have plenty of clues that may help us identify the culprit. It is just a matter of understanding what they mean and how they fit together. I think your original suggestion was right: we will find our solution to these deaths — Bottisham’s, Deschalers’s and now Warde’s — in the mill dispute.’