The Hand of Justice

Once the excitement was over, and the swooning woman had become just another corpse, people began to wander towards the plague prophets, who were engaged in a strident argument with Father William about the Devil’s role in the Death. Bernarde was among the first to slink away, unwilling to admit to what had transpired between him and Bess the previous night. The Lavenhams were next, heading for the Market Square. Bartholomew saw Rougham skirt around the edge of the crowd, his eyes darting here and there in an attempt to see what was happening without becoming involved. Tulyet left to fetch stretcher-bearers, and asked Bartholomew to wait with Bess until he returned, while Matilde went to see why Redmeadow was taking so long to bring Suttone. Eventually, Bartholomew and Paxtone were alone. Paxtone began to cover the dead woman with her cloak, but stopped when something fell out of it. It was a phial.

Bartholomew picked it up, noting it was like the one that had contained Warde’s Water of Snails and the one he had found at the King’s Mill. He studied it carefully, but Lavenham probably had dozens of identical containers for potions that were powerful or that were required in small amounts. Its similarity to the others meant nothing. He removed the stopper and squinted down the neck to assess its contents. Inside, the mixture was a murky red-white, and looked uncannily like the substance that had killed Bird.

‘Be careful,’ warned Paxtone, watching. ‘Those little pots usually contain something to be treated with caution — and it is not always medicine. I have purchased viper venom in one of them before now.’

‘What did you want that for?’ asked Bartholomew uneasily.

‘Another time,’ replied Paxtone enigmatically, in a way that made Bartholomew’s senses jangle all manner of warnings. ‘What is in it? Can you tell?’

Bartholomew sniffed its contents gingerly. He shook his head. ‘It smells the same as the Aqua Limacum Magistralis that killed Warde. I can detect coltsfoot quite strongly, but no liquorice. And there is something bitter and nasty underlying its other scents.’

Paxtone took it. ‘You are right. But if there is no liquorice, then perhaps it is not Water of Snails. Liquorice is one of its essential components.’

‘Lavenham omits expensive ingredients from his recipes, if he feels he can get away with it.’

‘Does he indeed?’ asked Paxtone, round eyed. He turned his attention back to the phial. ‘This dirty scent is familiar. It smells rank.’

‘Could it be henbane, do you think?’ suggested Bartholomew casually, watching him intently.

‘It could,’ said Paxtone, nodding vigorously. ‘But I have never heard of it used in a medicine to be swallowed before. I only ever add it to plaisters for external use.’

‘Unfortunately, since Quenhyth destroyed Warde’s mixture in a misguided effort to be helpful, we have no way of knowing whether Bess’s phial and Warde’s pot contained the same things.’

‘We also do not know if she drank it or that it killed her,’ Paxtone pointed out reasonably. ‘She may have found an abandoned bottle and picked it up because it was pretty — but did not sample the contents. Do not forget she was not in her right mind. And is henbane really that deadly when swallowed? I have never come across a case of ingestion before.’

Bartholomew pointed. ‘There is a pink trail on her chin, where it dribbled from her mouth, and, like Warde, she died feverish, dizzy and gasping for breath. These are all symptoms of henbane poisoning, and mean that she did swallow the stuff.’

Paxtone shook the phial gently. ‘You are more knowledgeable than me, Matt. I did not know how to recognise the signs of henbane ingestion. I think I shall take this pot to King’s Hall and perform a few experiments. You do not want Quenhyth “helping” you a second time. He may use your College cat now the cockerel is unavailable, and I like that animal.’

Bartholomew did not think it was a good idea to allow Paxtone to make off with the potion, when his own role in the grisly business was far from clear, but did not know how to stop him — at least, not without showing that he did not trust him. He watched Paxtone tuck the phial away and wondered whether he would ever see it again — or whether it would make its next appearance when another victim was claimed.

‘What do you think this means?’ he asked, trying to hide his misgivings. ‘That Bess purchased poison intending to take her own life? Or did someone give it to her?’

‘I do not see why anyone would want to kill her. She had lost her wits.’

‘Perhaps someone was afraid she might regain them.’ Bartholomew regarded Bess’s body thoughtfully. ‘Deschalers gave her a purse of gold. He was not a generous man, so he must have had some reason for providing her with such a large sum. Perhaps there are others who felt obliged to pay her, but they decided to kill her instead, in a bid to save their money.’