Geoffrey stared at him. ‘Are you saying that Mabon’s poisoner and the person who shot at me are one and the same? Why would you think that?’
Delwyn shrugged. ‘No reason. I am merely concerned for your well-being. I am a monk, always alert for ways to protect my fellow creatures.’
‘Sir Geoffrey had a valid question,’ said Adrian when he had finished his prayers. Delwyn took the opportunity to slither away. ‘Who did this terrible thing?’
Silence greeted his words, which came as no surprise to Geoffrey. The killer was not going to hold up his hand and admit responsibility.
‘Then what manner of poison took him?’ Adrian went on. He turned to Geoffrey. ‘Return to the latrines and see if you can find a bottle or a packet.’
‘I will help,’ offered Sear, although Geoffrey would have preferred to work alone. He and Sear entered the building and began to poke unenthusiastically at the muddy floor. Joan followed.
‘If there is a bottle or a packet, it is more likely to be down the pit,’ she said practically. ‘Here is a long pole with a hook, Geoff. Fish about and see what you can find.’
‘You do it,’ said Geoffrey in distaste. ‘And why do you keep such a thing in here anyway?’
‘Because people are always dropping things, and we often need to fetch them up,’ explained Joan impatiently. ‘Stand aside, then.’
‘No, allow me,’ said Sear, stepping forward and taking the stick. ‘ I will not see a lady perform such a distasteful task.’
Geoffrey left abruptly, unwilling to witness such an operation – and hating the smile of startled gratitude Joan shot at the man he loathed. Sear was right – he should not have let his sister do something so ghastly – and it was shame that made Geoffrey angry. The pair appeared within moments, Joan holding a cloth in which lay a small phial.
‘Here,’ she said, holding it aloft. ‘The poison must have come from this.’
‘It is Mabon’s tonic!’ cried Delwyn, surging forward. ‘He kept a pot of it with him at all times. He said it kept him vigorous.’
Adrian took it and smelled it tentatively. ‘The contents of this would not have kept him vigorous. I am no alchemist, but it appears to have held wolf-tooth. I recognize the fishy stench.’
‘Wolf-tooth?’ asked Geoffrey, bemused.
Adrian shrugged. ‘I know nothing about it, other than that it is poisonous.’
Cornald stepped forward and held out a smooth, plump white hand for the bottle. Adrian dropped it into his palm, and all watched the butterer take a careful sniff.
‘Definitely wolf-tooth,’ he declared. ‘But there are other mysterious odours, too.’
‘It is difficult to be certain,’ said Gwgan, taking Cornald’s wrist and using it to raise the bottle to his own nose. ‘But I think there may be henbane, too – and that is certainly poisonous. I wish Isabella were here; she is very good at identifying scents.’
‘Give it to me,’ ordered Richard. He snatched the pot from Cornald and sniffed it hard. ‘This is not the tonic that Mabon and I enjoyed. The priest, Cornald and Gwgan are right: it has been changed.’
Delwyn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Someone stole the bottle and replaced Mabon’s remedy with poison. He was murdered, just as I thought!’
‘What do you think about this Mabon business, Geoff?’ Roger asked later that morning. The two were sitting at the far end of the hall, honing their weapons. The guests were clustered around the hearth, but Geoffrey had preferred to keep his distance.
Olivier was strumming his lute, and Sear was singing; Geoffrey was surprised that such a pleasant voice should emanate from so surly an individual. Edward and Leah were sitting together, clearly enjoying the music, although Richard only scowled at the flames. Delwyn was writing at the table, and Cornald and Joan were enjoying a good-natured discussion about cheese. Pulchria was making a play for Alberic, who did not mind at all, while Gwgan watched her antics.
‘Someone definitely poisoned his tonic,’ said Geoffrey. ‘And the killer dropped the bottle down the pit afterwards, in the hope that his death might be passed off as natural.’
‘But you thwarted that by looking in Mabon’s mouth.’
‘If I had not done it, Delwyn would have done. The killer stood no chance of masking his crime.’
‘It is a pity,’ said Roger. ‘I rather liked Mabon. So who did it?’
Geoffrey gestured at the hearth. ‘Everyone here had the opportunity. Mabon died at or near dawn, but the poison could have been added to his tonic at any time. Alibis mean nothing, because everyone spent a moment or two alone.’
‘Then what about motive?’ asked Roger. ‘Who had a reason for wanting Mabon dead?’
‘Who knows? Perhaps Delwyn was right, and someone did not like that he was more warrior than monastic. Mabon was unusual, and someone may have felt his antics were bringing Kermerdyn into disrepute – I cannot imagine he went unremarked at the oath-taking ceremony, for example.’
‘And there were a lot of important people at that,’ nodded Roger. ‘So, can we narrow our suspects to those who were there?’
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘We could be on the wrong track entirely, and Mabon’s outspoken manners may have earned him enemies long before he came here. Sear and Alberic, for example, are easily offended.’
‘Edward was fond of him, though,’ said Roger. ‘I saw the kiss they exchanged. But looking at motive and opportunity is getting us nowhere. We shall have to assess everyone individually. I hate to say it, but Sear cannot be the culprit, because he would not have fished the incriminating phial out of the latrine if he were – he would have left it there.’
‘Not necessarily. Joan said he made a splash, which drove her back, and it was while she was distracted that he picked the bottle from the pit. It may have been coincidence; equally, he may have decided the phial was better “found” in the pit than among his own possessions.’
Roger grinned. ‘Good! I would like him to swing for murder. But why would he kill Mabon?’
Geoffrey shrugged. ‘Perhaps he disapproves of Mabon squabbling with Bishop Wilfred. Or perhaps Mabon is in the habit of giving him unwanted advice about his troops. Sear is sensitive to criticism.’
‘What about Delwyn as a suspect?’ asked Roger. ‘I cannot abide that dirty little snake.’
‘I am inclined to think he is innocent, because of his insistence that Mabon was murdered. If he were the killer, I think he would have stayed quiet. Of course, he certainly has a motive – Mabon made no effort to disguise his dislike of him.’
‘I do not like Richard, either,’ said Roger. ‘Can you make a case against him?’
Geoffrey nodded. ‘Yes – he asked for some of Mabon’s tonic, but was refused. He may have taken the real tonic and exchanged it for wolf-tooth out of spite. And, as we are concentrating on men you do not like, we can include Alberic because Sear may have ordered him to do it.’
Roger rubbed his hands together, pleased. ‘We can discount the ladies, though. Pulchria is more interested in seducing men than dispatching them, and Leah is too much of a mouse to contemplate doing something bold.’
‘There may be more to Leah than you think, and Pulchria cannot be eliminated because I am sure she counted Mabon among her conquests. Perhaps he rejected her and she did not like it.’
‘He did reject her.’ Geoffrey regarded him in surprise. ‘He told her that he could not oblige with Delwyn watching his every move. She was bitterly disappointed, so I showed her what real men are about, to take her mind off him.’
‘Then perhaps Mabon was indiscreet about Pulchria’s talents, and Cornald objected,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Cornald seems amiable, but no man likes the villain who seduces his wife.’
‘It is her doing the seducing,’ Roger pointed out. ‘It is difficult to say no.’
‘I managed,’ said Geoffrey dryly. ‘Several times.’
‘You should,’ said Roger primly. ‘You are a married man, and I doubt Hilde would approve. However, if Pulchria is a poisoner, perhaps you should risk Hilde’s ire and give in to her demands. We do not want you killed in a latrine, just for the sake of a few moments’ work.’
‘And finally, there is Gwgan,’ said Geoffrey, ignoring the advice. ‘He seems personable, but I cannot gain his measure at all.’
‘Neither can I,’ said Roger. ‘But you should give him the benefit of the doubt, because he is a member of your
