A Poisonous Plot

‘The rogue had the fright of his life when he saw us,’ Edith went on, then gave a sudden impish grin. ‘I have never seen anyone run so fast in all my life.’

‘Who was it?’

‘He wore a mask, so we could not tell. Segeforde maybe, irked because Anne intends to sue.’

‘Not if it happened just before dawn — he was dead by then. I suppose it might have been one of his Zachary cronies though.’

‘Dead?’ asked Edith, shocked. ‘How? I hope it was not the debilitas, because we shall be blamed if so. Zachary already thinks we caused the deaths of Letia, Lenne, Irby and Yerland, just because they lived nearby.’

Bartholomew glanced around, aware of the reek now that he was no longer worried for her safety. In the annexe, Yolande was using a ladle to remove some foul residue from the bottom of a vat, while another woman was pouring buckets of urine over the fermenting balls of woad. Then he saw that a window had been forced, showing where the invader had broken in.

‘He was unlucky to find you here,’ he said. ‘He probably expected the place to be empty.’

‘We did not hear him at first, because we were out on the pier, getting rid of the alum-lye mix that …’ Edith trailed off in guiltily.

‘You put lye in the river?’ cried Bartholomew in horror. ‘But that is caustic! It will hurt anyone who drinks it. And what about the fish? It will kill everything that-’

‘No one drinks from the river at that time of the day,’ interrupted Edith defensively. ‘Besides, the tide is going out, so it is all washed away now.’

Bartholomew smothered his exasperation. ‘The tide is on the turn, which means some will come back again. And what about the people downstream, not to mention their animals? Besides, you are meant to be transporting of that sort of thing to the Fens.’

‘We do, usually, but it is a long way on isolated tracks, and two or three buckets of sludge hardly warrant the trouble.’

‘Two or three buckets a day,’ Bartholomew pointed out. ‘It adds up. You should store them until you have enough to make the journey worthwhile.’

‘We have tried that, but your colleagues will insist on moaning about the smell.’ Edith fixed him with a hard glare. ‘You criticise us, but what about all the Colleges, hostels and convents that throw sewage, kitchen waste and God knows what else into the water? And besides, a few pails in an entire river will do no harm. They will dilute.’

‘Will they?’ demanded Bartholomew. Lye could have caused the burns he had seen on Frenge — the King’s Ditch was not the river, but they were still connected. Could Frenge have been poisoned as he rowed to the Austin Priory, and the bruises on his face were not from someone forcing him to drink, but him clawing at himself in agony? ‘Are you sure? Because I am not.’

‘Our waste looks bad because it is brightly coloured,’ Edith went on, ‘whereas the stuff produced by everyone else just looks like dirty water. But theirs is just as dangerous.’

‘You cannot know that,’ Bartholomew said tiredly. ‘And what if the protestors are right — what if the spate of recent deaths is because of you?’

Edith scowled at him. ‘Use your wits, Matthew. Who drinks from the river and eats its fish? Paupers! And are paupers falling ill? No, the dead are all wealthy folk who go nowhere near the Cam for victuals. Besides, if you want a culprit, you should look to your own profession, as I have told you before. All the victims consulted a physician before they died.’

‘Yes — Nigellus mostly,’ sighed Bartholomew. ‘So Michael arrested him last night.’

‘Good,’ said Edith harshly. ‘He is certainly the kind of man to let an innocent dyeworks take the blame for something he has done.’

‘He still might, so perhaps you should close until the situation is resolved.’

‘And what happens to my ladies in the interim? Do they go back on the streets until you give us permission to reopen? I am sorry, Matt, but I am proud of what we have achieved here, and I cannot abandon them. They need me.’

Bartholomew smiled despite his concern, touched by her dedication to a sector of the community that did not often win champions. ‘Then Cynric will stay with you until this is over.’

Edith smiled back, and Bartholomew was glad the quarrel was over, even if it was only a temporary truce. ‘Thank you. His presence will be greatly appreciated.’

The door opened then, and Anne sauntered in wearing a kirtle that was cut even more revealingly than the one that had caused all the trouble the previous day. It looked new, and he wondered if she was already spending the money she expected to win from her lawsuit.

‘I thought we had agreed that you would stay away until the matter with Segeforde is sorted out,’ said Edith coolly, eyeing the gown with open disapproval. ‘You being here is incendiary, especially with Kellawe outside.’

‘Why should he dictate what I do?’ pouted Anne. ‘I am a free woman.’

‘Very free — that is the problem,’ muttered Edith.