The Bishop's Tale

Chapter Fifteen

Beaufort waited at the window, watching thebleak day. Below him the lead-dull waters of the moatroughened under the wind; beyond the moat, the black, weaving limbsof the elms troubled the sky. He shivered slightly – theweather was turning more bitter by the hour – and turned backtoward the room as one of his clerks ushered in Master Broun, DameFrevisse, and her companion nun.

Beaufort frowned and sat down in hiscurved-armed chair without offering his ring to them or thesuggestion that they be seated, too. He had expected DameFrevisse, with inevitably the other nun, but not Master Broun, anddid not care for the presumption. Guessing it was hers ratherthan his, he asked curtly, “You have reason for bringing MasterBroun, Dame Frevisse?”

Master Broun showed his surprise. “Mylord, I thought you wanted me, that perhaps you felt unwell. The stresses of these past days-”

“I am, thank God, in health.” Beaufortmade a point of avoiding the attentions of physicians so far as hemight. Given a chance, they found things wrong that theyclaimed needed to be treated in expensive ways that were usuallyuncomfortable and, in Beaufort’s opinion, mostlyunefficacious. He understood too well in himself the lure oftrying things because one had the power to do so not to recognizethe trait in others. “Your being here is Dame Frevisse’sdoing. She asked to see me.”

He fixed her with a look that held warningthat his time was not to be abused. She bowed her head to himand with admirable brevity said not to him but to Master Broun, “Ineeded your very expert opinion on a medical matter, and thoughtyou would more readily and attentively give it if you understoodhis grace the cardinal was also interested.”

Master Broun again switched his gaze from herto Beaufort. “My lord, I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” the cardinal answered, “but Idaresay Dame Frevisse is about to enlighten us.”

With her head bent a little, her hands neatlyfolded up her sleeves in front of her, she was an image of respectas she said to Master Broun, “You attended Sir Clement at hisdeath. We spoke of it afterwards, you may remember.” Master Broun inclined his head in dignified acknowledgment andstayed silent. She continued, “By things that have beenlearned since then, it seems that he was poisoned.”

Startled, Master Broun hurriedly crossedhimself twice while protesting to Beaufort, “Surely, my lord, thehand of God was rarely so clearly seen.” He turned to DameFrevisse. “You saw the red mark of a hand on his face.”

“I didn’t,” she answered. “I saw onlythe welts and no pattern at all. Nor did anyone I asked aboutit. If it was there, only you saw it.”

She was plainly as set in her opinion as thephysician was in his, and to forestall Master Broun’s protest andwhat might turn to acrimonious debate, Beaufort said, “Is thismatter of the hand to the point, Dame?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then pass it by.” He made that awarning to her, and added so Master Broun would equally understand,“I asked Dame Frevisse to look more nearly into the matter of SirClement’s death and give me her opinion on it. I pray you,heed her and answer what she asks you in your best wise.”

His face registering his protest, MasterBroun looked sidewise at Dame Frevisse and waited.

Her own expression bland and againrespectful, she began, “Poison would be the most likelyexplanation…”

“I assure your grace, there is no suchpoison,” Master Broun interjected. “I am no expert onpoisons, I assure you-” His tone indicated that no doctorworth his learning would be expert in such things. “-but I amthoroughly familiar with the pharmacopia, and there is no drug, noplant, no combination thereof that will cause such symptoms as SirClement had.” He switched his officiousness to DameFrevisse. “And I did most clearly see the mark of a hand, asif God smote him on the face.” He turned back to Beaufort andassured him, “A most holy and edifying sight before it faded afterhis death.”

“God moves in mysterious ways,” Beaufortmurmured – and privately added that so did the minds of men. “Dame Frevisse?”

Very mildly – but Beaufort found he wasbecoming wary of her mildness – Dame Frevisse said, “The MateriaMedica in Master Chaucer’s library agrees completely with whatMaster Broun has said. I could find no poison that works asthis one did.”

Master Broun nodded his satisfaction withthat.

“But there is this.” She withdrew herhands from her opposite sleeves where she had modestly kept themthis while, with a book in one of them. She held it out toMaster Broun and said very humbly, “I’m not sure – my Latin is sopoor – but there seems something here. Would you look atit?”

Master Broun looked at Beaufort instead, inclear hope of being relieved of so much nonsense. Beaufortnodded toward the book and, reluctantly, Master Broun tookit. There was a marker. He opened to it, and DameFrevisse reached out to point to a particular place, saying, “It’sthere. Can you tell us what it says?”

Master Broun instead turned back to the frontof the book to find its title. “A work by Galen,” heobserved.

“Then an authority not to be trifled with,”Beaufort said, allowing a trace of his impatience to show. Hedid not care to be involved in other people’s games.

Master Broun set himself promptly to thepassage Dame Frevisse had indicated. Beaufort and she waitedin silence while he read it through and then re-read it beforefinally looking up to say in a solemn voice meant to evidence hisdeep thought and judgment on the matter, “I remember me thispassage now from my days at Oxford, but never in all my years atpractice have I encountered the matter, to bring it to my mindagain until now.”

“Meaning?” Beaufort asked. He edged theword with sufficient impatience to goad Master Broun to thepoint.

But Master Broun was bolstered by hisexpertise now and answered with consideration and deliberation,“Meaning that those symptoms evidenced by Sir Clement previous tohis death – the stifled breathing, the welts over his face and neckand arms, the great itching – do indeed occur, under certaincircumstances, from the poison inherent in certain foods.”

Impatiently, and more so because DameFrevisse already knew the answer and was forcing both him andMaster Broun through these steps, Beaufort said, “But everythingSir Clement ate and drank at the feast, he shared withothers. Didn’t he?” he demanded of Dame Frevisse. “Orhave you learned otherwise?”

“Everything he ate or drank, others did,too,” she agreed.

Master Broun raised an authoritative hand toforestall any other comments. “There are foods, you see -this is very rare but I remember a fellow student during my time atOxford would never eat cheese; he said it made him ill and indeedcited Galen on it, I do remember now-” he tapped the book hestill held “-that there are foods that in themselves arewholesome in all respects except that in certain people they causedistress precisely such as Sir Clement suffered.” He waswarming to the subject and went on with enthusiasm. “Even ifonly touched, they can cause itching and extreme discomfort. And though initial ingestion of whatever particular food afflicts aperson may cause only a mild reaction, the effect can be cumulativeso that experiencing the food one time too many will bring onsymptoms so severe that death will result, despite earlier attackswere not fatal.”

“And that was why Sir Clement was notterrified when I saw him partly recovered in Sire Philip’s room,”Frevisse put in. “He had experienced this before and thoughthe knew what to expect.”

“So, in brief,” Beaufort said, “there wassomething at the feast poisonous to Sir Clement but to no oneelse. He ate of it unknowingly and died.”

“I believe that would cover all the facts,yes,” Master Broun agreed.

Dame Frevisse said tartly, “So you no longerthink it was God who struck him down?”

Master Broun flushed and drew himself up toglare at her as he snapped, “That no longer seems the obviousanswer, no.”

“Thank you both,” Beaufort said crisply,cutting off whatever response Dame Frevisse was opening her mouthto make. “You have been most helpful, Master Broun. Invaluable. You’ll receive witness of our pleasure. Butpray you both, hold silent on this matter for this while atleast.”

He made it a request, knowing it would betaken as a command. Master Broun, mollified by the praise andpromise of reward, bowed his acceptance. “As your worshipwishes.”

“Then you have our leave to go. DameFrevisse, we would have you stay,” he added more sternly.

Master Broun cast her a sideways look,satisfied she was in trouble of some sort, and bowed himself fromthe room. When the door had shut behind him, Beaufortgestured her to sit opposite him, and resting his elbows on thearms of his chair, his hands clasped judiciously in front of him,he regarded her for a while in silence. She sat unbotheredunder his gaze, more self-contained than some great lords of therealm on whom he had used the same look. He said, “That waswell done.”

In acknowledgment of his praise, shebent her head and responded, “I doubt he would have been socooperative except that you were here.”

“Which is why you requested mypresence. My congratulations. You seem to havemastered many of the frailties of your sex, overcoming even thepride that might have refused to make use of my authority overhim. You’ve dealt with the matter both logically and withsome degree of boldness.”

He was interested in seeing her reaction, butfor a prolonged moment she held silent, and he found that, likeThomas, her expression was not always easy to read. Then shesaid evenly, “I’ve never noticed that pride is particular to eithersex and, by your worship’s leave, I’ve known as many illogical menas I have women, if not more. Nor have I ever thought -despite what the stories say and men seem to admire – that boldnesswas a virtue if not wisely used.”

She said it so politely, with no change ofexpression or tone, that it was a moment before Beaufort realizedshe had completely refused his compliment to her on the terms hehad given it. Drily, he asked, “You don’t care for Aquinas’sopinion on the essential frailty of woman’s nature?”

“The blessed St. Thomas Aquinas refers to thefrailty of her soul’s vigor and body’s strength, which do not matchman’s. But we were referring to my mind, and of that St.Thomas says, if I remember correctly, ‘The image of God in itsprincipal manifestation – namely, the intellect – is found both inman and woman.’”

“And you see yourself man’s equaltherefore.”

“In worth before the eyes of God, yes. And in our abilities to serve Him, without doubt. But we weremade, at the time of Creation itself, to be man’s handmaid. That at least I will agree to.” Unexpectedly she smiled,looking much younger, though her age was impossible to guess in theanonymity of her black habit, close-fitting wimple, and heavy drapeof veil. “But in return I think you might be willing to grantthe old adage that woman was the last thing God made, and thereforethe best.”

Beaufort laughed aloud. “That’sThomas’s trick, to cut short an argument with a jest completely tothe point.”

Like Beaufort’s, Dame Frevisse’s voice waswarm with shared memory of a man they both loved. “He taughtme well.”

“And yet, with your learning and wit beyondthe ordinary, you were willing to give over to Master Broun yoursolution to Sir Clement’s death.”

“There are realities that have to beaccepted. I’ve learned to live within such and yet do as wellas God has made me able.”

“With your God-given intellect that is theequal of a man’s.”

She acknowledged his teasing by saying withmock solemnity, “Or the better. But no matter how clever wemay think I am, the crowner will take the learned evidence of howSir Clement died far better from Master Broun that he would fromme.”

Beaufort nodded agreement. “So SirClement’s death was accident after all.”

“No. I think it was surely murder.”

“What?” They had kept theirvoices pitched low; his immoderate exclamation made several of hisclerks look up from their work, and he immediately dropped hisvoice to order, with no attempt to conceal that he wasdisconcerted, “Explain that.”

“Sir Clement may well have known of hisaffliction. I’ve heard from several people that there werefoods – or a food; I need to ask more specific questions to knowexactly – that he wouldn’t eat. He sent one of his people tothe kitchen here to be sure of what would be served at thefeast. It seems he knew there was something that made himill, and he would not having knowingly eaten it. Whatever itwas, it had to have been secretly and deliberately put in his foodduring the feast.”

“So Sire Philip may be guilty after all.”

“I’m assured that someone is guilty. Idoubt it is Sire Philip.”

Beaufort raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because he didn’t have theopportunity. With this poisoning something would have had tobe placed in Sir Clement’s food after it left the kitchen. Idon’t remember that Sire Philip had the chance. And he’s toldme he has documents that negate any claim Sir Clement might havemade against him, so he had no reason, either.”

“You believed him when he told you of thesedocuments?”

“It’s possible he’s lied about them, but itwould be a lie too easily discovered for what it was.”

“And Sire Philip is not a stupid man. But he could be a desperate one if the documents do not indeedexist, in which case he might have conspired with someone elsebetter able to poison Sir Clement at the feast.”

“The three most likely and most able to havedone it are Sir Clement’s ward, his cousin, and his nephew. They all had opportunity and ample reasons of their own, conspiracywith Sire Philip or not. And there is Sire Philip’s brother,who was usher at the feast, if we care to consider Sire Philip didlie about the documents.”

“And how do you plan to determine which oneof them it may have been, whether alone or with Sire Philip? Or would you rather leave it now to the crowner? He’ll behere tomorrow, will take what you’ve learned and make good use ofit, I’m sure.”

She hesitated, then answered, “I have some ofthe pieces needed for an answer, and I think I know how to learnthe rest. By your leave, I’d like to go on.”

He inclined his head to her gravely. “By my leave you may. And if you need my help in anythingwith this, ask for it freely.”