Page 34

“Look here.” The surgeon beckoned them forward and pointed at Sir Edward’s right hand. He lifted it up and said, “If you look closely, it looks to me like a bite, or a pinprick. You’d never have guessed it was the work of a sewing needle.”

The hand was discolored and the area around the index finger was black and purple. It smelled, but that could also have been the body decomposing.

The hooded figure held up a spray of flowers before their face. “So, it was in fact a sewing needle that did this. Not a knife or a blade.”

“No. When I looked at the crown, it was an ordinary needle. It’s of a type you could find anywhere. Most servants would have one. I think Sir Edward must have pricked his finger on it.”

“Sir Bors said it was Sir Edward’s idea to bring the crown to the dining hall in the first place, to show them all I was the rightful ruler. But Sir Edward has never been one given to flights of fancy,” the hooded figure said, now revealing a husky, womanly tone, tinged with regret.

“Your Grace?” the surgeon enquired.

The empress lowered her hood, revealing her light-brown hair in long braids and covered by a thin veil and different golden circlet.

“He was not the most original of men, let us say. A good fighter, and an honest and loyal soldier. But for this to be his idea surprises me. I would not credit him with it.”

“You think Sir Bors was lying?” Sir Robert asked.

“I do not know. I do not wish to consider the idea that any of my men would lie to me. It is unheard of.”

And yet , Bronwyn thought, someone took the crown and fixed a needle inside. So small as to not be noticed right away, until it was too late.

“This was clearly meant as an attack on Your Grace,” Bronwyn said.

The empress met her eyes with a stiff nod. She turned to Theobold. “But you weren’t harmed when you picked up the crown.”

“No. I had a cloth.”

The empress crossed her arms beneath her chest. “We need to find out who did this. Now two of my loyal subjects have been killed. I think it’s obvious what is happening here.”

The others looked at her.

She snorted softly. “Someone from within my court is trying to kill me. They want to disturb my faith in my fellow subjects, especially those close to me, so they are killing off those loyal to me, one by one. It is a dastardly practice, and when I find out who is behind this plot, I shall have them drawn and quartered.”

Bronwyn breathed in. A gruesome punishment. She’d never seen it before, but she’d heard of it happening, in dire circumstances. She glanced at Theobold, who paled. He looked as if he liked the sound of that torture less than her, and the very mention of it filled her with distaste.

“What was the poison used?” Bronwyn asked.

“Who are you again?” asked the surgeon.

“She’s nothing but a servant,” Sir Robert of Gloucester said, avoiding eye contact with Bronwyn.

“She is helping me,” Theobold said.

The empress raised an eyebrow.

“Bronwyn Blakenhale,” said Bronwyn. “I work in the kitchen.”

“Yes, very well. Hullo, Mistress Blakenhale,” said the surgeon, who still seemed confused about the kitchen servant’s presence.

“The poison used came from our own stores, I’m afraid.

When we were traveling with the camp from Lincoln to here, our traveling stores were broken into and some things were stolen.

Among them was our supply of monkshood.”

“What is that?” Bronwyn asked.

“A poison, if fallen into the wrong hands. I make an ointment, made from the wolfsbane plant—you might have seen it with blue or purple flowers. It is good for soothing aching joints, but if eaten or taken in the blood, it is highly poisonous.”

“Would it kill this quickly?” Theobold asked.

“Yes. The roots and leaves are toxic as well, so it must be handled carefully. Whoever stole this knew what they were doing. Or they knew enough to put it on the needle and not get pricked themselves,” the surgeon’s assistant said.

“So we are looking for someone with a knowledge of monkshood,” Theobold said. “Come, Mistress Blakenhale. I’ll walk you back to the kitchens.”

Bronwyn nodded and curtsied to the group, following Theobold out.

Once they stood outside the surgeon’s workshop, he said, “This plot keeps getting more complex.”

“Do you think the empress is right, and that someone is trying to remove those people close to her?”

“It’s possible. Sir Edward and Lady Eleanor were known to be steadfastly loyal to her. Lady Eleanor was often her confidante amongst her ladies and helped keep them in check. Without her, the empress will be without a friend.”

“Does an empress need friends?”

“No. But she does need loyal subjects, and people she can count on. You helping me in this will help prove to her that you are smart, and useful.”

“I work in the kitchens. I’m already useful.”

He faced her. “Not to mention beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Saying pretty things like that. Your face and your voice take on a certain look when you do it, and I know you’re just saying it, when it’s not true. Or it’s not how you really feel.”

He started, “Bronwyn…”

She held up a hand. “Save it for the next pretty woman. You say these pretty words and act like I’m lovely, and then behind my back you talk with Lady Morwenna and act like I’m nothing, like I’m nobody.

” She let out a shuddering breath. “I always thought I was nobody, even after I saved the empress’s life.

No one acted like I’d done anything special, and my life didn’t change.

But once Lady Eleanor died and the crown went missing, then you started acting like maybe I was somebody worth knowing.

More than just a woman. But now, I just don’t know anymore.

And I don’t know if I believe anything you say. ”

“Bronwyn, I need your help in this,” he said. “I never would have thought to ask the question about the poison.”

She shook her head sharply, her thick, blonde braid thumping hard against her shoulder.

“I’ll help you because I want to know who is doing this.

But not because I like spending time with you, or because I want to hear more of your flirting.

You’re wasting your breath with me.” She walked away, sniffing.

She idly wondered if he might come after her, but he didn’t.

The next few days passed quickly. No matter how many meals she prepared, breads baked, or worktables cleaned, she could not clear her mind of Theobold, Rupert, the attempts on Empress Maud’s life, and the crown.

That golden circlet was at the center of it all.

And she needed to find out who was behind this, for whoever it was, they had traveled with the party at camp back in Lincoln and now were here.

She might very well have served them dinner.

And with a stolen poison on the loose, who knew who might end up poisoned next?

And she wished, right down to her bones, that she would be taken seriously on her own merit, without needing a man to speak for her.

And that those who did like her liked her for herself, and not any other.

But perhaps she was asking for too much.

Maybe most men did have wandering eyes, or maybe she’d just been unlucky and fallen for two men who were equally flirtatious.

It was early March, and to her surprise, she’d been paid a wage.

The empress had minted coins, with her own image on the face, and each servant, knight and man at arms, had been paid.

There was some discussion as to whether the coins would be worth much, but in Gloucester, the coins could be used in the local market.

In her off hours, which really meant before bed, Bronwyn had taken to mending the old, purple dress that Lady Susanna had given her.

She wasn’t very deft with a needle, but she’d managed to mend it enough that it was serviceable.

She spent a happy hour down at the farmer’s market after mass on Sunday, looking at the wares and finery for sale.

Food hawkers called out for people to come and see the fruits, and even spices, whilst there was no mistaking the smell of blood and meat that came from the butcher’s stall, where great carcasses hung and fresh lamb legs, beef shoulders, steaks, and bacon were sold.

Bronwyn’s mouth watered, but then she walked past some of the bakers’ stalls and had to take a look.

Some of the rolls looked small, others had a sandy look about them, as if the bakers had weighted them with sand, rather than using the full amount of flour that should have been used.

To cheat customers like that was wrong, but she decided she wouldn’t get involved. She had enough to worry about.

She looked longingly at the gloves, the bolts of cloth, the shoes and even the pretty ornamental knives.

Not that she could afford to buy such finery.

In the end, she bought some thread to hem the purple dress and had just purchased a plain kerchief, when she saw Rupert walking with Lady Alice.

They looked like proper lovebirds, and she turned away and hurried back to the castle, not wanting to see more.

A day later, a page came up to her and cleared his throat. His voice squeaked. “Mistress Bronwyn?”

She looked at him, her hands full of dough. “Yes?”

The boy was about age ten and wore a page’s livery. “Lady Alice Duncombe wants you to meet her in her quarters, now.”

Bronwyn looked toward Agnes, one of the head cooks, who raised her eyebrows at the request. “She’s a bit high and mighty, ordering around one of my bakers. Bronwyn?”

“I’ve served her before.”

“All right. Go and see what she wants. But if she wants more than a plate of rolls, you send her to me. I’m the one who gives orders in the kitchen, not a lady. I don’t care how many acres of land she owns. The kitchen is my province.” Agnes crossed her arms beneath her chest.

Some ten feet behind her, Mary, the former head cook at the camp in Lincoln, glowered at Bronwyn.