The Butchers Funeral: A Medieval Murder (6 page)

'Donald, now don't you go wrinkling your nose.  You'll soon get used to the smell.'  Anna had seen through his subterfuge and he looked embarrassed, "I'm sure you've smelt far worse from some of the things you've had to chop off.'

'Absolutely.  Nothing beats a rotten limb.'  He placed his bag against the wall, 'So what's the problem then?'  He was curious about why Anna had not been able to fix herself.

'I've got water squirting out of my backend; I've thrown up everything I've ever eaten; and I feel like the morning after a night of heavy drinking.'  She ticked off her complaints on her fingers as she listed them, 'I haven't felt this bad since I had the Plague when I was young,' This was a story that they had discussed many times.  Unlike many people, they could simply not accept that the Plague was simply a curse from God, 'I've tried everything I've got, but nothing's touched it.'

'Anything unusual happened to you recently?'  They both immediately discounted the idea of divine retribution and the Plague.  Neither particularly believed in the God, and if this illness were the Plague, more obvious symptoms would already be showing or Anna would have been dead by now.

'Well, I bashed my ribs yesterday.  Got good and proper knocked over.'

'Who on earth would knock you over?  Nobody would dare.'

'Normally they wouldn't, but there was some sort of chase, a thief.  Ran into me while I was doing some shopping and I went straight down.  He probably didn't even realise what had happened.  So I then caught my ribs on a bench as I went down.'

'I heard there had been a chase.  How bad were you hurt?'

'Winded me.  Didn't break anything, I think.  Probably got a lovely bruise by now, but I've not checked.'  She winced as she placed her hand on the area, 'Still hurts mind.  Hope they caught the miserable sod.'

'Oh, they caught him all right.  Constable's holding him.'

'You mark my words, once I'm better, I'll go and give him a piece of my mind.'  Alvin had no doubt that she would, although she may not want to wait around as the punishments for theft could be quite severe and quite quick when it was not referred to a higher court.

'Mind if I have a look?'  He knew it would be best to check the damage was not more severe than she thought.

Anna carefully removed her clothing.  Neither stood on ceremony, both were practical and knew that there was no point being prudish or excessively modest.  If that meant people wanted to gossip, well that was tough.  A fresh bruise was spreading from Anna's side and around her back.  Alvin tutted.

'Get on with it.  I know you want to give it a poke.'  Anna was impatient.  She wanted to get the pain she expected out of the way.  When Alvin pressed one of the ribs she yelped, 'Be gentle!'

'So are you having much trouble breathing?'

'Of course.  It hurts like bloody mad.'

'Lots of phlegm or blood coming up?  No, no point asking about that.  You can't hold in any food anyway and I wouldn't expect the degree of purging you've undergone with just damaged ribs.  No other rashes,’ Anna shook her head, but Alvin could see for himself, 'I'd say that part of your problem is a cracked, maybe broken rib.  The rest of the problem, I'm not sure about.  Have you breathed in any unusual miasmas?'

'Only the miasma you smell now, nothing else.'  Anna could not think of any unusual air she had been in contact with, certainly not anything from the marshes.  For that matter, the smell in her room did not really count.

'Come into contact with any unusual illnesses, fevers or anything like that?'  Alvin was working his way through the logical causes, trying to find what had unbalanced her Humours.

'Well, there was removing pebbles that got stuck up a toddler's nose.  That's unusual, but probably not going to be something I could catch.'  She sometimes wondered if stupidity was contagious with the way some of the people lived in the city.  Maybe stupidity was something she could catch?

'So no contagions, no miasmas, no unusual illnesses.  What could have unbalanced your Humours?  Food?'

'Now you mention it, maybe it was something to do with my food last night.'  She thought back, something had struck her as odd at the time, but nothing that had really stood out, 'It didn't taste quite right.  I put it down to me not eating that much meat, so not being used to it.  Anyhow, I had a bit as a treat last night, bit o'rabbit.  Thought I had boiled it up good and proper, but now I think about it, it was a bit off.  It didn't look odd when I bought it, but wasn't quite as good when I took it out to cook.'

'Hmmm, could be the cause.  You can usually get away with a bit of rot, especially on things like rabbit.  I've come across the odd case in the past when people have been ill in this way after rotten food or when they've eaten their meat a little too rare.  But then I don't often deal with this type of illness. If you can't cut it off, it doesn't usually come my way.  Maybe an apothecary could confirm what's happened to you?'

'Won't waste my time with those thieves and as for that butcher who sold me the tainted meat, I'll be giving him a piece of my mind.  You mark my words; he'll think twice before he crosses a wise woman again.'

Alvin nodded his head.  He had no doubt that Col Butcher would get an earful, something that would undoubtedly strike fear into the minds of everyone within earshot.  You simply did not cross Anna.

Anna
had missed her chance to get her revenge on Col Butcher in the tavern that evening, or the subsequent evenings.  It had taken her the best part of a week to rebuild enough strength to follow Col across the city to his preferred tavern.  By the end of the trek she was physically exhausted, but the anger, fuelled by days of dwelling on the certainty that the butcher had disrespected her, was boiling over.  She knew she would pay for pushing herself so hard, but the anger forced her body to follow her will.  Tomorrow could look after itself.

There was now no doubt in her mind now that the butcher had deliberately cheated her.  As she thought back to the incident at his shop she was convinced that she had seen him swap the good piece of rabbit that she had agreed to buy.  He had swapped it with something rank and already wrapped.  Anna was sure she had seen him switch it under the counter, at least she was certain she had seen the movement of his hands during this trick.  Or maybe it had been when the butcher had hidden in his shop to avoid the duty of the hue and cry?  That would have been a perfect opportunity to swap over the meat.  Every time she thought about it, her fury at the disrespect fermented, growing uglier and more demanding of vengeance.  He had dared to show his contempt for her, a wise woman, a woman his wife would need to help with childbirth, a woman who had the power to hex him and let all in the city know that he was under her curse.  Never mind that she was trusted by the local priests, in fact trained by them, to baptise dying new-borns to ensure their journey to the afterlife would head in a heavenly direction.  Hex him she would and she would damn all the priest to hell if they admonished her.  After all, did the Church not threaten damnation to sinners, excommunication in the most extreme cases.

The butcher left the tavern early and there were too many people around for her to risk interfering with her planned confrontation.  She wanted an audience, if possible, but not too big an audience, one that may intervene.  Not only that, he was clearly sober, or as near as.  The drink would make him more malleable, and he clearly had not had enough.  She was also wanting to wait for full dark, certain that the chill and otherworldliness of the night would lend an otherworldly fear to her intended threats.  Having followed him home Anna settled down in a disused doorway, across the marketplace, to consider her plans.  The morning would be a good time to challenge him, not as good as during the night, but if she caught him first thing, when he opened the shop, his tiredness may work in her favour.  She settled further into the doorway, tiredness overcoming her discomfort, and began to doze.  She did not even register the ripe smells around her.

'Wake up! Wake up!' the man was shaking her shoulder.  Anna was briefly confused, wondering why a man was waking her up.  The ache in her legs brought back the memory of bedding down in the shop doorway.

'What you want?' Anna put a menacing note into the question, communicating her displeasure at being woken.

'The baby's coming.  Come quick!  I've been looking everywhere for you.'

Anna opened a tired eye to the darkness, intent on glaring at the excitable man.  Recognising him she quickly remembered that his wife was due to give birth.  With a groan she eased herself to her feet, many aches firing across her body.

'Have you sent someone to get my birthing chair?  Has she confessed her sins?'  She eased herself into her role as midwife, forgetting Col Butcher in the life and death trial that was childbirth.

The labour had been quick and pleasingly uncomplicated.  The delivery had occurred late, well into the night.  Safety was never something that could be guaranteed and the complicated and dangerous births that Anna had been present for were beyond count.  For once, this baby had just popped straight out, the mother was well and Anna was certain the baby would survive the week and probably had as good as a fifty-fifty chance of surviving her first year.  The parents had been more relived that joyful.  It was not the first child this mother had birthed, but certainly the easiest, and barring unexpected infections, she would recover quickly.

After tidying up and once again checking on mother and child, Anna had carried off, for disposal, the bucket of bloody water and the placenta.  The family had few spare rags and those they had provided, they would wash and bleach in the sun until they were usable again.  Anna would do the same with the few rags she had brought.  There was no point carrying the full bucket far, so Anna headed for Shitebrook.  It was not too far out of her way and there really was not anywhere else she could leave the waste.  Well, she thought to herself, she could leave it in the middle of the street for those lazy muckrakers to clear up, but she knew they would merely take the waste outside the city walls and dispose of it in Shitebrook instead of taking it well away from the city.  She could do that for herself.  Half measures were what she was used to from those well-paid street cleaners, besides, she could not see how leaving waste in a street, waiting for the muckrakers to get around to it, was going to be good for anyone.  At the very least it would lead to more injurious miasmas floating around for people to breath in.  At worst, vermin would be encouraged, especially the pigs that some people kept inside the city walls despite the mayor trying to get the animals banned from within the city.

As she poured out the waste bucket into the ditch, she was surprised to see Col Butcher walking, or was it staggering, towards her.  She quickly deduced that what had started out as a dismal evening was beginning to turn into a very productive night.  Time to make the sod pay with a lesson he would never forget.  He had clearly gone back to the tavern for some late night drinking while she was busy delivering the child.

'Oh butcher?' she said in her most enticing voice, 'Would you care to come over her and help me?'

He emitted a grunt and staggered towards her.  Typical man, she thought, a few drinks and they all fall for the damsel in need of help.

'What is it love?'  So he's not so far gone that he can talk, she thought.  Excellent, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget.

'I need some help with my bucket.'  She pretended to strain at the imagined weight of the now empty bucket.

'I thinnnnk, I think, I think I can help you with that.'  Definitely drunk, she thought, even slurring.

Anna let the butcher take the handle of the bucket, noting the lack of control he had over his hand.  How much had he drunk?  As he straightened up she stepped closer, raising her knee quickly between his legs.  He yelped in pain and Anna hastily stepped back as his spare hand reach forward to steady himself on her.  Before she knew it, he was falling forward, the hand that had held the bucket handle, now holding the tender place between his legs.  He lay squirming on the follow for a while.

'Why?' He gasped as soon as he could muster enough energy, 'What was that for?'

'Well, don't you remember what you did?'  After a pause, he shook his head, 'Perhaps I should help your memory then.'  This time she kicked his left ankle.

'Argh!' the sharp pain shot through him, overwhelming the dull throb from elsewhere.

'Does that help your memory?  Do you need more help?'

'Stop!' He shouted as his assailant moved around him to kick the other ankle, 'I've done something wrong to you?'  He looked at the face of his assailant for any clues, 'I've cheated you.  You're not like the others who have assailed me tonight, they did not touch me.'

'You're right, you've cheated me all right.'  Anna did not pick up on the comment about 'others', 'You sold me dodgy meat when I was distracted.  I get knocked down by a thief and while you hide from the hue and cry, then you go and swap a good piece of meat for something rotten and still charge me the same price.'

'I can't remember.  Honestly, I can't.  I would only have done it to make some more money.  I didn't mean to be visited by your spirits all night.'

'What do you mean, spirits?'

'You sent spirits to torment me, to show me my wrongs.  You're a witch like they said you are.  I've been seeing them all night.  Please take them away.' He pleaded.