Deadly Inheritance

‘And who better than a sorceress?’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘Do you know what happened to Hugh?’

‘When he followed me after the fire, I went north and lost him. I thought he would find his own way home, but I was wrong. I am sorry he is dead. He was a stupid lump, but he did no harm – unlike those with more wits. Your brother, for a start.’

‘Tell me about the dagger that killed Henry,’ said Geoffrey, remembering what Olivier had seen. ‘I know you cursed it, but who asked you for such a spell?’

‘That I shall never reveal, because he knows the identity of my lover. If I tell, so will he.’

‘But it is a man,’ said Geoffrey, supposing he could cross Hilde off his list of suspects. ‘Do you really believe that putting a spell on an object can imbue it with an evil life of its own?’

She nodded earnestly. ‘Of course. And so do many others.’

‘The Black Knife has killed both Seguin and Hugh since it dispatched Henry,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I locked it in my room, and the next night someone tried to set me alight.’

Eleanor shrugged. ‘That is what Black Knives do. You must take it deep into the forest and bury it under an old oak – as old as you can find – with mistletoe growing on it. That should stop it in its tracks.’

‘Lord!’ muttered Geoffrey. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It would be even better if the person who ordered the curse were to do it, but I doubt that will happen.’ Eleanor rummaged in a sack and handed Geoffrey a tiny pouch with a piece of twine attached. ‘Wear this amulet. It will protect you while you do it. Bury it near the oak at the same time.’

Geoffrey was tempted to decline, thinking a Crusader should have more faith in his own God, but he was unsettled by the self-confessed witch, and decided to err on the side of caution. He put it around his neck, tucking it inside his surcoat.

‘I wish you knew a spell to bring an end to this ridiculous fighting,’ he said.

She gave a sad smile. ‘You must pray to your God for something of that magnitude. I work on a much more modest level.’

Geoffrey and Eleanor sat in silence for a long time, listening to the rain and the crackle of the fire. His thoughts were of Goodrich, and his fears of a night attack. Hoping to distract himself, he decided to interrogate Eleanor about the murders he had been ordered to solve.

‘I would like to ask you some questions,’ he said. ‘With your permission.’

Eleanor smirked, amused. ‘How could I refuse such a politely worded request? Would that all men were so well mannered – then I might not have felt the need to secure a female lover.’

‘Did Agnes ask you for poison while you were in Normandy? Mandrake, for example?’

Eleanor knew exactly why he asked. ‘If she had, I would not tell you. It would make me an accomplice to the murder of the Duchess. But, as it happens, she did not need poison from me, because Walter had some mandrake of his own.’

‘His phial has been empty for a long time. It was so dusty inside that I could barely smell what was once in it – and a book Mother Elgiva gave me said mandrake has a powerful aroma. I imagine Walter found an empty container and carried it for show.’

‘He is a silly boy. I watched them carefully once I realized the Duchess’ death would suit Agnes, but I never saw anything untoward. The only thing they ever gave her was a dish of dried yellow plums. Sibylla ate one, but declared it too sweet and passed the rest to her courtiers. The poison was not in the fruit, or they would have died, too.’

‘You spied on Agnes and Walter? I thought they were your friends.’

‘No, they were just after my spells: Agnes wanted the Duke to love her, and Walter wanted a charm to attract women. I told him to speak Italian, and he has been doing it ever since. He even tried to bed me with his nonsensical phrases. I clouted his ears.’

‘So neither Walter nor Agnes asked you for mandrake?’

‘They asked about it, but it is not a plant I use because it irritates my skin. Look what happened when I touched my lover’s hand after she had sliced some.’ Eleanor removed her glove to reveal a rash. It had healed somewhat since when Geoffrey had seen it at Dene, but it still looked sore. ‘Mandrake does not grow readily in this part of the world, so I am not often exposed to it. However, my sensitivity exonerates me from giving any to Agnes – if Sybilla was poisoned, that is.’

‘You think she may not have been?’

Eleanor shrugged. ‘Her physicians say she died of childbirth fever – it happens to duchesses and paupers alike, so perhaps they are right.’

‘What about the fire at Dene?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Did your curses bring that about? I saw a picture of a burning house at the Angel Springs just hours after the blaze.’

Eleanor’s face hardened. ‘Agnes drew that. I was delighted when it started, because it gave me the chance to escape from my father and brother, but I am sorry people died.’

Geoffrey was thoughtful. The solution to at least one part of the mystery snapped into place as he thought about the people allocated rooms in the corridor where the fire had started. He just needed one or two more details.

‘How well had the fire taken hold before you became aware of it?’ he asked.

‘Agnes had warned me that a fire might break out, so I was alert that night. However, she is full of talk and I was surprised when it really happened. Had I known the entire manor would go up, I would have tried to stop her.’

‘It started at your end of the corridor, not near Giffard and me. In fact, I suspect it began in Isabel’s room.’

‘How did you guess that?’ asked Eleanor, startled.

‘Because Isabel started it. I imagine Agnes told her to.’

Eleanor gave a wry smile. ‘You are right: Agnes wanted the fire, and when her drawings at the Angel Springs did not work, she adopted another approach. She encouraged Isabel to start it, lest she herself was caught.’

‘I suppose she contrived some nonsense about Ralph realizing his true feelings if Isabel were in danger – and poor Isabel was desperate enough to believe it. Meanwhile, Agnes would be rid of Giffard, who is keeping her from the Duke.’

‘You are right in every detail. Nasty, is it not?’

‘So why did you not expose them? Several servants died – and it very nearly claimed the King and Isabel herself.’

‘Agnes made me promise to say nothing. I agreed because I did not think Isabel would have the courage to go through with it anyway, and also because Agnes agreed to stop trying to learn the identity of my lover if I complied. By the time I realized Isabel had not set a little fire but a raging inferno, it was too late. And the irony is that the whole ghastly business achieved none of its objectives.’

Geoffrey recalled seeing Agnes at the Angel Springs after the fire, doubtless destroying evidence of her involvement. The plan had failed spectacularly: Isabel had lost her house and several servants, Ralph had discovered an attraction to Agnes, and Giffard had escaped.

‘It is a pity you have seen me,’ said Eleanor eventually. ‘It was more convenient for people to assume I died in the fire.’

‘Leave your veil in the rubble, then,’ Geoffrey suggested. ‘You are never seen without it, so it may convince them.’

‘But you know I am alive.’

‘I will never reveal your secret.’ Geoffrey studied her pretty face uneasily. ‘You do not want me to drip my blood on chicken entrails to prove my sincerity, do you?’

Eleanor laughed. ‘Do not be ridiculous! I do not have a chicken to hand, and it would be a terrible waste to kill one when I know you are a man of your word. To repay your understanding, at first light I shall lead you to your castle by a quicker route than you would find on your own. Until then, keep yourself warm by the fire.’

Despite sharing the hut with a witch, Geoffrey was so fatigued, he soon fell asleep. He woke at one point to find himself alone, but Eleanor glided back in and shot him a mysterious smile. He was ready to leave long before dawn and fretted impatiently until she deemed it light enough to travel. He urged her to move as fast as possible, sitting her on the pony and running behind it in his desire to reach Goodrich. They parted south of the castle, he to follow the main road to his home, and she to head west to her lover. She slid off the horse and gave it a pat.