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how if Barnsley is wise he won’t turn his back on Kelmstowe, how it’s maybe just a matter of Kelmstowe biding his time.”
The glances between the men, a nod from one and a slight lift of a shoulder by Simon Perryn answered her half-question even before they looked back to her and together nodded, saying her guess was right.
She went on, “But it wasn’t Tom Kelmstowe who was biding his time. Anneys Barnsley’s sister was with child. When the birthing came, Anneys Barnsley would be with her, Henry Barnsley on his own. That gave Adirton–” She finally named him, and no one objected. “–a certainty his chance would come. When it did, he left a pot of poisoned broth as apparent charity for the Kelmstowes, to see to it they were kept at home all the night when it was needful no one see them elsewhere. The same poison that he had used to kill his wife not long before.”
“She died!” Adirton exclaimed. “Everyone knows she just fell ill and died. My wife. It happens!”
“Happens she died of a sudden,” Frevisse said coldly, “with the same troubles that laid the Kelmstowes low last night. Only worse. I wonder – have you been sharp enough to rid yourself of whatever you used, or will a thorough search–” more thorough than Margery had been able to make in this while “–of your place find something you’d rather we didn’t?”
Adirton blanched. Good. His poison was still somewhere to be found. If there was any doubt, a small dose could be tried on him to be sure of it, Frevisse thought grimly as she went on, “With Barnsley dead and Kelmstowe easily thought guilty, he would be free to comfort and then marry the widow, getting thereby a considerable holding without the trouble of having deserved it.” She looked to Master Naylor. “He would have been thought fit to take it over along with the widow, yes?”
“Yes,” the steward said. He was more than usually grim.
“So, with no suspicion of murder falling on him because it was plain someone else had killed Barnsley, he’d be far better off than he had been and with a new wife. Of course if it turned out the new wife did not suit him–” Frevisse fixed a hard stare on Adirton. “–he had his way of remedying that, to free himself to look for another.”
Adirton’s jaw clenched as he apparently tried to hold back from saying anything, before he burst out, “That’s nothing but guesses! First and last, nothing but guesses! You’ll never find the drovers to ask, for one thing!”
“Drovers come the same way year after year,” Master Naylor said. “If we have to wait until we’ve asked every one that comes through in the coming year, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“In the meanwhile,” Frevisse said, “the others that were there when Barnsley’s body was found will be asked if you indeed handled it enough to have blood on your sleeves and the front of your tunic. I think we’ll hear that you didn’t. So where did the blood come from?”
Adirton opened his mouth, perhaps to give an excuse for it, then must have remembered he had already said it was Barnsley’s blood and closed his mouth.
“That and finding the poison wherever you’ve hidden it, added to what Anneys Barnsley has already said, will go a long way to satisfying the crowner, I think,” Frevisse said.
“That, and that I’ve heard him more than once warning folk in the alehouse that Kelmstowe was likely to break out again in some manner of hurt to someone,” Simon Perryn said. “Aye. We’ll stand behind all this when time comes to jury for the crowner.”
“That should suffice,” Frevisse said, her gaze locked with Adirton’s.
Adirton took a threatening step forward. Simon Perryn and the other man clamped hold on his arms, keeping him where he was. He wrenched once, more from anger than any thought he could escape, then spat at Frevisse’s feet, splattering the
The glances between the men, a nod from one and a slight lift of a shoulder by Simon Perryn answered her half-question even before they looked back to her and together nodded, saying her guess was right.
She went on, “But it wasn’t Tom Kelmstowe who was biding his time. Anneys Barnsley’s sister was with child. When the birthing came, Anneys Barnsley would be with her, Henry Barnsley on his own. That gave Adirton–” She finally named him, and no one objected. “–a certainty his chance would come. When it did, he left a pot of poisoned broth as apparent charity for the Kelmstowes, to see to it they were kept at home all the night when it was needful no one see them elsewhere. The same poison that he had used to kill his wife not long before.”
“She died!” Adirton exclaimed. “Everyone knows she just fell ill and died. My wife. It happens!”
“Happens she died of a sudden,” Frevisse said coldly, “with the same troubles that laid the Kelmstowes low last night. Only worse. I wonder – have you been sharp enough to rid yourself of whatever you used, or will a thorough search–” more thorough than Margery had been able to make in this while “–of your place find something you’d rather we didn’t?”
Adirton blanched. Good. His poison was still somewhere to be found. If there was any doubt, a small dose could be tried on him to be sure of it, Frevisse thought grimly as she went on, “With Barnsley dead and Kelmstowe easily thought guilty, he would be free to comfort and then marry the widow, getting thereby a considerable holding without the trouble of having deserved it.” She looked to Master Naylor. “He would have been thought fit to take it over along with the widow, yes?”
“Yes,” the steward said. He was more than usually grim.
“So, with no suspicion of murder falling on him because it was plain someone else had killed Barnsley, he’d be far better off than he had been and with a new wife. Of course if it turned out the new wife did not suit him–” Frevisse fixed a hard stare on Adirton. “–he had his way of remedying that, to free himself to look for another.”
Adirton’s jaw clenched as he apparently tried to hold back from saying anything, before he burst out, “That’s nothing but guesses! First and last, nothing but guesses! You’ll never find the drovers to ask, for one thing!”
“Drovers come the same way year after year,” Master Naylor said. “If we have to wait until we’ve asked every one that comes through in the coming year, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“In the meanwhile,” Frevisse said, “the others that were there when Barnsley’s body was found will be asked if you indeed handled it enough to have blood on your sleeves and the front of your tunic. I think we’ll hear that you didn’t. So where did the blood come from?”
Adirton opened his mouth, perhaps to give an excuse for it, then must have remembered he had already said it was Barnsley’s blood and closed his mouth.
“That and finding the poison wherever you’ve hidden it, added to what Anneys Barnsley has already said, will go a long way to satisfying the crowner, I think,” Frevisse said.
“That, and that I’ve heard him more than once warning folk in the alehouse that Kelmstowe was likely to break out again in some manner of hurt to someone,” Simon Perryn said. “Aye. We’ll stand behind all this when time comes to jury for the crowner.”
“That should suffice,” Frevisse said, her gaze locked with Adirton’s.
Adirton took a threatening step forward. Simon Perryn and the other man clamped hold on his arms, keeping him where he was. He wrenched once, more from anger than any thought he could escape, then spat at Frevisse’s feet, splattering the
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