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him and told him to remain where he was.

    “I should like you to take note of any salient points that Brother Jehan may be able to give us, John, in case we should want to review them later.”

    As the secretary reseated himself and placed a fresh sheet of parchment on his desk, Nicolaa thanked the infirmarian for his prompt answer to her summons, and then, explaining that her throat was sore from her ailment, asked Bascot to tell the two monks what little information they had concerning the deaths of the clerk and Simon of Haukwell.

    “The poison that was used appears to act quickly once it is ingested,” he said, “and is extremely virulent.” He then went on to describe the symptoms that had afflicted the rodent after eating the honey-soaked bread. “Although Thorey told us that rats do not usually vomit, some foam did appear around its mouth, and both Haukwell and Ralf purged extensively before they died.”

    “There are many poisons that have a similar effect,” Jehan said reflectively. He was an elderly man, with a slow and sonorous manner of speaking and a frail appearance that belied his inner fortitude. “However, as we were coming across the bail, we spoke to the rat catchers. They expressed their opinion as to the nature of the poison, and I think I can tentatively agree with their observation.” He looked across at Brother Andrew who nodded in agreement.

    Nicolaa’s eyebrows rose. “The rat catchers know the type of poison that was used? Why was I not informed?”

    Jehan gave a slow smile. “Such knowledge could be considered as incriminating, lady. The catcher here in the castle—Thorey, I believe his name is—was careful to explain to me that after watching the effects of the poisoned honey on the rat, he believes it contained a venom that is used by many of those who follow his trade. While assuring me that he does not use the substance himself, or indeed any other type of poison, he feared that it might be thought he was the perpetrator of the crime.”

    “I see,” Nicolaa nodded. “It is true that I have forbidden him to use such a means to rid the castle of rats. When I was a child, the catcher my father employed was in the habit of using poison to kill rodents, and one of my father’s favourite hounds accidentally ate some poison and died. My father was so angry that the catcher was lucky to escape with his life. Afterwards, my father forbade all of his catchers to use any type of venom, and I have followed that dictate. Thorey, as far as I am aware, uses only his dogs and traps baited with untainted food for his purpose. He would be dismissed if he did otherwise.”

    She returned Jehan’s smile. “And so his concern that he may be blamed is understandable. There was a great display of anger against my cook, even though it is not certain he is guilty. Thorey would have known that and feared the same suspicion might fall on him.”

    Bascot motioned to the earthenware pot. “That is the pot that contains the poisoned honey. What is it that Thorey—and you—believe to have been used to adulterate it?”

    “It is a common ingredient in rat poison, Sir Bascot,” Jehan explained, “and is extracted from a plant whose Latin name is Helleborus niger but is more commonly called the Rose of Christ. The plant blossoms about the time of the celebration of Christ’s holy Mass, and the leaves of it, in pagan days, were used in a ceremony to bless cattle and protect them from evil spirits. Other than as a means to destroy vermin, it is sometimes used in a beneficial manner, as a tincture to assist in the purging of parasites or to restore the balance of humours in women, but it is a very dangerous medicant and must be administered with great caution. Most apothecaries would not recommend it for any purpose other than to kill rodents.”

    “But it is available for purchase from an apothecary?” Bascot asked.

    “Oh yes,” Jehan replied. “The usual customers would be rat catchers,