chagrin was as great as their own. Finally, she said, “These additional deaths reinforce my belief that Gosbert is innocent. He is rarely in town and it is certain that he would not be acquainted with a merchant of Reinbald’s standing. Only the fact that he, like the old cook in le Breve’s household, opened the jar containing the poison made suspicion be cast upon him. He is no more likely to be guilty of this crime than she is. But who can it be? What is the evil purpose of the person who has caused these deaths? First, our own castle kitchen is contaminated, and then one in the household of an affluent merchant within the town. What is the connection between these two places, and the intended victims? This grade of honey is costly and would only be used by persons with the means to buy it. Has the poisoner some grievance against those of higher station? Is the fact that both of these pots came from the same apiary of significance? Has poison been placed in other households about the town, and if so, where?”
“If these poisonings were done recently,” Bascot said, “then the person who did it must be a man or a woman who is often within the city walls, perhaps lives here in the castle or in the town. If that is so, then our only hope of discovering his or her identity is to keep searching until we find some evidence that links the person to both of these crimes. If it is the poisoner’s intention to kill again, we must act with as much haste as possible.
“If we can confirm our impression that the honey was tampered with recently, lady,” Bascot said, “then we can be fairly sure that there is need only to interrogate those who had recent access to the honey pots. If it was done during the months since the honey was delivered to both the castle kitchen and the merchant’s home, questioning those who were only lately in either place will be futile. We might be able to narrow our search by questioning the beekeeper at Nettleham. If the jars were not made secure while they awaited delivery, it is possible they were adulterated either at the apiary or somewhere in transit. I would also like to speak to the bailiff, Severtsson. Since it was he who took the honey to his uncle’s home, it may be that someone tampered with one of the pots while they were in his possession. He may even be able to give us the name of a person who could have done so.”
Nicolaa agreed. “The answer to these questions may well give us a clearer guide of the direction our search should take. De Marins, go to Preceptor d’Arderon. Tell him what has happened and that you are requesting permission, on my behalf, to speak to the beekeeper and the bailiff. I do not think he will object.”
“I am sure he will not, lady,” Bascot said. “It might also be worthwhile to ascertain how many pots of this grade were harvested and to whom they were sold. If they were tampered with before they were delivered, there may be others in the town that are poisoned.”
Nicolaa acknowledged, regretfully, that such a possibility might be the case and then, turning to Roget, gave the captain his orders. “There will be unrest in the town once news of these latest deaths spreads. I shall send for the town bailiff and ask for his support in keeping all of Lincoln’s citizens calm, but it may prove a difficult task. Tell your men to deal gently with any who create a disturbance. This situation is bound to frighten the townspeople, and we must try to assuage their disquietude, not aggravate it. If you find there is a need for more men to patrol the streets, you may ask Ernulf to send some of the castle men-at-arms to your assistance.”
When she had finished, both men rose to leave, and Nicolaa said, “Let us pray that God will guide our efforts and enable us to snare this knave before anyone else dies.”
When Bascot arrived at the templar enclave, Everard d’Arderon was standing at the edge of the practice ground watching a serjeant put a couple of newly initiated men-at-arms through a drill with short swords. The preceptor listened with a grave countenance as he was told of the deaths that had taken place in the town, and how it was subsequently found that the second pot which had contained the poisoned honey had, like the jar in the castle kitchen, come from the Nettleham apiary. He quickly gave his permission for Bascot to go to Nettleham and also to elicit the help of Ivor Severtsson, the bailiff.
“Severtsson has only held the post for a couple of years, although he was employed in a minor capacity at Wragby for some time before I gave him the office,” d’Arderon said. “I am sure, since it was his own family members who were very nearly poisoned, that he will do his utmost to help you. He lives in the manor house at Wragby, which is not too far from the apiary, and I can arrange for him to meet you at Nettleham village, if you wish.”
D’Arderon shook his head sadly as he added, “These deaths make me wonder if the position of bailiff at that property is not ill-fated in some way. If Reinbald or his wife had been harmed, it would have been the second time that tragedy had struck the man who has held the post.”
“How so?” Bascot asked.
“The former bailiff was a man named John Rivelar,” d’Arderon explained. “He had a son who lived with him, and just about the time I came to Lincoln two years ago, the boy was discovered to have been consorting with brigands and was taken into custody by Sheriff Camville. When the lad was hanged for his crimes, Rivelar became so distraught that, a few days later, he was taken with a seizure of his heart and died.” He sighed heavily. “As I said, the post seems to be ill-fated.”
“How long has the property been in the Order’s possession?”
“Quite a number of years,” the preceptor replied. “It was bequeathed to us by a widow whose youngest son was a member of our brotherhood and stationed in Outremer. He was killed during a skirmish with the Saracens in the Holy Land only a few months before King Richard left on crusade. Shortly after she received news of her son’s death, the widow sickened and met her own end. In her will, she left Wragby and the Nettleham apiary-both of which had been part of her dower-to the Order in memory of her son.”
“Do you know anything about the beekeeper that may have a connection with these poisonings?” Bascot asked.
D’Arderon shook his head. “No, I do not. I have only met the apiarist, whose name is Adam, once, when I went on a tour of the Order’s properties shortly after I arrived. He is a rather strange old man, and has a peculiar way of speaking about his bees, but seems competent enough.”
“Are there any others living at the apiary?”
“Only a daughter and her husband with their children. The daughter’s husband is a potter and makes jars for the beekeeper’s honey as well as a variety of other vessels which he sells in the town.”
Bascot thanked the preceptor for his help and promised to inform him immediately if he found any connection between the poisoner and the apiary. “It may only be a chance occurrence, Preceptor, that both pots came from Nettleham,” he said.
“We must hope so, de Marins,” d’Arderon replied. “But it shall be, as always, as God wills.”
Eight
Early the next morning, just after the service of Mass had been held in the castle chapel, Nicolaa de la Haye gave orders that all of the household were to assemble in the bail. She did not intend to let Gosbert, of whose innocence she was convinced, remain a prisoner in the holding cells any longer. When her summons had been obeyed, she donned her cloak and, accompanied by Ernulf, went down the steps of the forebuilding and across the ward to the holding cells. At her command, the serjeant brought Gosbert out and left him quaking with fear in front of his mistress. Nicolaa gave him a few words of quiet reassurance and then turned to face the watching servants and addressed them in a stern voice.
“It has been proven to my satisfaction that Gosbert is innocent of the crime of poisoning Sir Haukwell and Ralf the clerk. He will now return to his duties, and I charge you all to know he is under my protection. Should any of you be foolish enough to cast further aspersions on his name, that person will be dismissed from his or her post and banished from Lincoln.”
As she said this, she turned her eyes towards Thomas, the squire. The young man reddened but returned her gaze steadily, and nodded in her direction to show that he realised the import of her words and would obey her instruction.
Gosbert fell to his knees in front of Nicolaa. “I thank you, lady, for your trust in me. I would never harm you, never.”
“You may get up, Gosbert,” she said kindly. “I never doubted your loyalty, but it had to be proved before I could release you. Return to your duties. You have trained Eric well, but he does not have your delicacy of touch
