'I did not mean that.' I raised a hand in protest. As I did so my arm brushed against my cup, almost knocking it over. But Alice, who had walked back to the table and stood opposite me, reached swiftly across and grasped it, setting it upright again.
'Thank you. By heaven, you have a quick hand.'
'Brother Guy is forever dropping things in the infirmary. And now, sir, with your leave I must go.'
'Of course. And thank you for telling me about the bursar.' I smiled. 'I know a king's commissioner can be an intimidating figure.'
'No, sir. You are different.' She looked at me seriously a moment, then quickly turned and left the room.
===OO=OOO=OO===
I nursed my potion, which slowly warmed my vitals. The thought that Alice appeared to trust me also sent probing fingers of warmth through me. If I had met her in another context, and if she had not been a servant—
I thought on her last words. How was I 'different'? I supposed what she had seen of Singleton had led her to think all commissioners were hectoring bullies, but had I sensed something more in her words? I could not imagine she felt attracted to me in the way I realized I was to her. I realized too that I had revealed that Mark had repeated all she told him. That might undermine her trust in him; a thought that I was alarmed to realize gave me a twitch of pleasure. I frowned, for jealousy is one of the deadly sins, and turned my mind to what she had said about the account book. That sounded a promising line of enquiry.
After a while Mark reappeared. I was relieved to note, as he opened the door, that the sawing had stopped.
'I have signed for the account books, sir. Eighteen great tomes. There was much grumbling from the bursar's men about how this will disrupt their work.'
'A pox on their work. Did you lock our room behind you?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Did you happen to notice whether any of the books had a blue cover?'
'They were all brown.'
I nodded. 'I think I know why Brother Edwig has been giving young Athelstan a hard time. There was something he did not tell us earlier. We will have another talk with our bursar, this could be important—' I broke off as Brother Guy came in. His face was drawn and pale. Under his arm was a stained apron which he threw into a basket in the corner.
'Commissioner, might we have a private word?'
'Of course.'
I rose and followed him. I feared he would take me to poor Whelplay's body, but to my relief he led me outside. The sun was beginning to set, casting a pink glow over the white herb garden. Brother Guy picked his way among the plants until he came to a large, snow-covered bush.
'I know now what killed poor Simon, and it was not possession by a demon. I also noticed him twisting his body over and waving his hands. But it was nothing to do with you. The spasms are characteristic. And the loss of voice, the visions.'
'Characteristic of what?'
'Poison from the berries of this bush.' He shook the branches, to which a few black dead leaves still clung. 'Belladonna. The deadly nightshade, as it is called in this country.'
'He was poisoned?'
'Belladonna has a faint but distinctive smell. I have worked with it for years, I know it. It was in poor Simon's guts. And in the dregs of the cup of warm mead by his bed.'
'How was it done? When?'
'This morning, without doubt. The onset of symptoms is rapid. I blame myself, if only Alice or I had stayed with him all the time—' He passed a hand over his brow.
'You could not have known this would happen. Who else spent time alone with him?'
'Brother Gabriel visited him last night late, after you retired, and again this morning. He was most upset, I gave him permission to pray over the boy. And the abbot and bursar came to see him later.'
'Yes. I knew they were coming.'
'And also this morning, when I went in to check on him, I found Prior Mortimus there.'
'The prior?'
'He was standing by the bed, looking down at him, a worried look on his face. I thought he was worried about the consequences of his harsh treatment.' He set his lips. 'Belladonna juice is sweet-tasting, the smell too faint to be noticed in mead.'