Mystique (36 page)

“Tell me,” Vincent said, “do you still hunger for Rivenhall, or are you content with these lands?”

Hugh raised his brows. “You are asking if I will take Rivenhall when my oath to Erasmus is severed by his death?”

“I am asking if you will
attempt
to take it,” Vincent corrected dryly.

“Attempt?” Laughter welled up out of nowhere within Hugh. It roared forth from the depths of his being. It rang in the street, drawing the attention of the nuns on the other side of the convent wall.

“I’m glad you find the question amusing.” Vincent watched him with wary eyes. “I’m still waiting for your answer.”

Hugh managed to control his mirth. “I suspect that Rivenhall is safe so long as my wife calls your wife friend. I do not care to contemplate the endless scolding I would be obliged to endure were I to lay siege to Rivenhall.”

Vincent blinked owlishly and then he started to grin. “Something tells me that you have already begun to settle in nicely to the life of a married man.”

“There are worse fates.”

“Aye. There are.”

T
he following morning dawned dark with ominous clouds. Hugh was forced to light a candle on his desk so that he and Benedict could work.

Hugh was midway through an examination of a list of spices when he noticed that the flame of the taper was shimmering in an odd manner. He put down his quill and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. When he opened them again he saw that the flame had grown very large. Too large.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Benedict leaned across the desk, his expression one of concern.

“Nay.” Hugh shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs that seemed to have enveloped his wits.

Benedict’s features started to run together. His eyes and nose flowed into his mouth.

“Lord Hugh?”

Hugh forced himself to concentrate. Benedict’s face returned to normal. “Have you finished those sums?”

“Aye.” Benedict pushed aside the cups of green pottage that had been brought to the chamber a short while ago. “I will have the amounts ready for Julian to take to London on the morrow. Sir, are you certain you are well?”

“Why in the name of the devil is that candle dancing about? There is no draft in here.”

Benedict glanced at the candle. “The flame appears steady, sir.”

Hugh stared at it. The flame was leaping wildly. It was also turning a strange shade of pink. Pink flames?

He tore his gaze from the candle and focused on the tapestry that hung on the wall. The unicorn woven into the center came alive even as he watched. It turned its graceful head and regarded him with a politely curious expression.

“The pottage,” Hugh whispered.

“My lord?”

Hugh looked at the half-empty cup of pottage in front of him. A terrible premonition pierced his fogged brain. “Did you drink any?” His voice was a harsh whisper of sound.

“Of the green pottage?” Benedict’s features wavered, just as the flame did. “Nay. I do not care for the stuff. I know Alice believes it to be very beneficial to the humors, but I dislike it. I usually throw it down the nearest garderobe shaft.”

“Alice.”
Hugh grabbed the edge of his desk as the chamber began to spin slowly around him. “The pottage.”

“What is wrong, my lord?”

“Get her. Get Alice. Tell her … tell her …
poison.”

Benedict leaped to his feet. “Sir, that is impossible. Flow dare you accuse her of being a poisoner?”

“Not Alice.” Hugh could barely manage the words. “This is Rivenhall work. My own fault. Should never have let them into the keep—”

As he crumpled heavily to the floor Hugh was dimly aware of Benedict’s footsteps pounding out the door and down the hall. And then the unicorn walked out of the tapestry and came across the chamber to gaze solemnly down at him.

“This is how it was for your father and your mother,” the unicorn said gently.

“M
y lord, I am going to stick my fingers down your throat. I pray you will not bite them off.” Alice crouched beside Hugh, turned his head, and pried open his mouth.

A moment later Hugh groaned and obligingly discharged the contents of his stomach into the chamber pot that Benedict held for him.

Alice waited until the first spasms began to ease and then she inserted her fingers down his throat a second time.

Hugh convulsed violently. The little that remained in his belly spewed forth.

Benedict looked at her, fear in his eyes. “Will he die?”

“Nay,” Alice vowed fiercely. “He will not die if I can help it. Get me water, Benedict. A large flagon of it. And milk. Hurry.”

“Aye.” Benedict grabbed his staff, lurched to his feet, and rushed from the chamber.

“And Benedict?”

He paused, one hand on the door frame. “Aye?”

“Tell no one about this, do you comprehend me? Say
that I have requested the water and milk so that I may wash my face.”

“But what if the pottage is poisoned? Everyone will have taken their morning cup.”

“The pottage was not poisoned,” Alice said quietly. “I drank a full cup of it myself only a short while ago. So did my maid.”

“But—”

“Hurry, Benedict.”

He hurried from the chamber.

Hugh opened his eyes briefly. His amber eyes burned. “Alice.”

“You are a very large man and you did not even drink all of the pottage, my lord. I have got most of what you did consume back out of you. You will live.”

“I will kill him,” Hugh vowed. He closed his eyes again. “My oath to Erasmus will not protect him after this.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Vincent, He tried to poison me.”

“Hugh, you cannot know that for certain.”

“Who else?” Another spasm overtook Hugh. His powerful body shuddered but there was nothing left in him. “it must have been him.”

Benedict pounded around the edge of the door, breathless from the dash downstairs to the kitchens. He carried two flagons in one hand. “I have both milk and water.”

“Excellent.” Alice reached for the first flagon. “Help me get this down him.”

Hugh slitted his eyes. “No offense, madam, but I do not have much of an appetite at the moment.”

“My mother wrote that it is wise to give great quantities of liquids to a victim of poison. It rebalances the bodily humors.” Alice cradled Hugh’s head in her lap. “Please, my lord. I pray you will drink this.”

There was still a sheen of sweat on Hugh’s brow but humor glinted briefly in his gaze as he looked up at the curve of her breasts. “You know I am lost when you employ your fine manners. Very well, madam, I shall drink anything you please unless it be green in color.”

Alice looked up at Benedict. “I do believe he is already feeling much better. Fetch Sir Dunstan. We will need his help to get my lord to his bedchamber.”

“Aye.” Benedict made for the door again.

“Devil’s teeth,” Hugh muttered. “I will not be carried like a child.”

In the end he managed the length of the hall on his own two feet but it took Alice, Benedict, and Dunstan to support his weight. When he finally tumbled into his massive ebony bed, Hugh fell asleep instantly.

“P
oison?” Dunstan stood at the foot of the bed, his hands bunched into huge fists at his sides. “Sir Hugh was given poison? Are you certain?”

“Aye.” Alice frowned at him. “But you must say nothing of this for the moment, Sir Dunstan. Thus far only we four know the truth. I would have it stay that way for a time.”

“Say nothing?” Dunstan stared at her as though she were mad. “I shall turn this damned keep upside down. I shall hang every servant in the kitchen one by one until I discover the person who put the brew into Sir Hugh’s cup.”

“Sir Dunstan—”

“Likely it came from Rivenhall.” Dunstan’s brow furrowed as he worked the problem out to his satisfaction. “Aye, that would explain it. Before he took his leave yesterday, Sir Vincent no doubt bribed a servant here in Scarcliffe Keep to put the foul herbs in the pottage.”

“Sir Dunstan, that is quite enough.” Alice rose from the stool beside the bed. “I shall handle this.”

“Nay, madam. Sir Hugh would not want you involved in a bloody business such as this.”

“I am already involved.” Alice gritted her teeth to keep her voice to a whisper. “And I know far more about poison than you do, sir. I shall discover the means by which this deed was done. Then, mayhap, we shall know who to blame.”

“Sir Vincent of Rivenhall is to blame,” Dunstan stated.

“We cannot be certain of that.” Alice began to pace the chamber. “Now, then, we know that only Sir Hugh’s pottage was poisoned. That means that the herbs were either placed in his cup while it was carried to his study chamber or—”

“I’ll find that traitorous servant,” Dunstan interrupted furiously. “I’ll have him hung by noon.”

“Or,” Alice added quickly, “the poison was already in the cup when the pottage was poured into it.”

Dunstan’s face went blank with incomprehension. “Already in the cup?”

“Aye, sir. The kitchens are a busy place. A few drops of a very strong poison placed in the bottom of the cup would likely go unnoticed when the pottage was poured into the vessel.”

“Would a few drops be sufficient to kill a man?”

“There are some brews made from certain herbs that are so virulent that they retain their lethal properties even when distilled. The hot pottage could have activated such a brew.”

Some brews, not many
, Alice added silently. And the herbs used in such bitter potions were rare, according to her mother’s treatise.

Benedict looked at Alice across Hugh’s sleeping body. “‘Tis no secret which dishes Sir Hugh uses. ‘Twould be easy enough for a poisoner to choose his cup from among the others.”

“Aye.” Alice continued to stride back and forth, hands clasped behind her back. “Sir Dunstan, I will conduct this investigation, do you comprehend me? Much rides on the outcome. War with Rivenhall will cost many lives. I will not have those deaths on my hands if there is an alternative.”

“Rest assured, madam, there will be no alternative when Sir Hugh awakes.” Dunstan’s expression was savage. “He will have his vengeance as soon as he can sit a horse.”

Alice glanced at Hugh. Even in sleep there was an unrelenting implacability about him. No one knew better than she that once Hugh set out upon a course of action, nothing could halt him.

She swung around to face Dunstan and Benedict. “Then I must act quickly.”

A
lice closed her mother’s book, folded her hands on her desk, and regarded the young kitchen lad who stood before her.

“You took the green pottage to Sir Hugh this morning, Luke?”

“Aye, m’lady.” Luke grinned proudly. “I have been assigned the duty of taking his pottage to him every morning.”

“Who instructed you in that duty?”

Luke gave her a quizzical look. “Master Elbert, of course.”

“Tell me, Luke, did you stop to talk to anyone on your way to Lord Hugh’s study chamber today?”

“Nay, m’lady.” Alarm appeared in Luke’s eyes. “I did not pause at all, I swear it. I went directly to his chamber, just as I was bid. I vow, the pottage was still warm when I got there. If it was cold when his lordship drank it, it was not my fault, m’lady.”

“Calm yourself, Luke. The pottage was warm enough,” Alice assured him gently.

Luke brightened. “Lord Hugh is pleased with my service?”

“I would say that he was quite astonished by it this morning.”

“In that case, mayhap Master Elbert will soon allow me to serve in the great hall,” Luke said happily. “‘Tis my greatest ambition. ‘Twill make my mother proud.”

“I’m certain that you will realize your goal one of these days, Luke. You seem a determined lad.”

“I am, my lady,” Luke assured her with great fervor. “Lord Hugh told me that the secret of every man’s true strength, regardless of his station in life, lies in his determination and will. If they be powerful, he can achieve his ends.”

In spite of her anxious mood, Alice smiled fleetingly at the thought of Hugh dispensing advice to a kitchen boy.
“That certainly has the ring of something Lord Hugh would say. When did he give you this bit of wisdom?”

“Yesterday morning when I asked him how he could stomach the green pottage every day. I never touch the stuff myself.”

Alice sighed, “You may go back to your duties now, Luke.”

“Aye, m’lady.”

Alice waited until Luke had bustled out of her study chamber before she opened the handbook again. One question had been answered, she thought. Luke was an honest boy. She believed him when he claimed that he had not met anyone en route to Hugh’s study chamber.

That meant the poison had not been added to the cup after the pottage had been poured into it.

Which, in turn, told her that she was searching for a poison that could have been deposited, unnoticed, in the bottom of the clean cup. It would need to be a brew so powerful that only a few drops were required to achieve illness or death.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought that she could so easily have lost Hugh. A terrible shiver of dread went through her.