the edge of the marshes. More for sport than from any real suspicion of wrongdoing, Hugh had ridden the fellow down. But the sack, once opened, revealed two pewter platters. Not the kind of thing any marsh- man could afford to own. Hugh had threatened to drag him before a sheriff, but the man had started pleading for mercy, saying that he had information that was worth far more than the platters. Hugh had allowed him to talk, but the wretch had stuttered to a halt just when his story was getting interesting.
Hugh surveyed him with disgust. The man was lying on the sodden ground, panting like a dog. His nose and mouth were already so swollen that he was gasping to breathe. The groom glanced over at Hugh, plainly uncertain if he should continue.
Hugh gestured impatiently. 'Don't just stand there, you idiot, make him talk.'
The groom brought the whip down again, this time using the sturdy wooden handle. Again and again he struck the man about the head. Hugh, half distracted by what he'd heard, wasn't really paying attention to what the groom was doing, until he realized that the marsh-man had stopped screaming, stopped groaning, in fact, stopped doing anything at all.
Hugh kicked the body, but it didn't stir.
He rounded on the groom. 'You clumsy cod-wit, have you no idea how to question a man? One thing's for certain, I'll get no more from him now.'
'Maybe,' the groom said nervously, 'he knew no more to tell.'
Hugh scowled. The question was — did he believe what little the man had told him? If this marsh-man was speaking the truth, then it might prove to be the very opportunity Hugh had been seeking. But if it was the truth, he would be involving himself in a deadly game. He needed to discover more.
He beckoned to the groom, but when he approached, Hugh seized him by his throat and pushed him up against the tree.
'I will deal with the matter myself, and if you utter one word of what this man said to anyone, anyone at all, I shall personally rip your tongue out and feed it to my hounds. Do you understand?'
The groom nodded vigorously as best he could with Hugh's hand about his neck. Hugh dropped him.
The groom swallowed hard, tenderly massaging his throat. 'And what. . . what should I do with him, my lord?'
Hugh unloosed his horse's reins and swung himself into the saddle. 'Roll the body into one of the bog pools, of course, what the devil do you think they were created for?'
Day of the Full Moon,
December 1210
Chicory — Mortals who carry this plant believe it will render them invisible to enemies and to evil spirits, and thieves swear that if it is held against a lock it will open any door or strongbox.
But chiefly it is used as an aphrodisiac to arouse a reluctant lover. Though do not think that it can be plucked from the ground by mortal hand. It must be dug up with a stag's horn or a disc of gold, such as resembles the warmth and fertility of the sun. To work its powers, the plant must be gathered on the days of St Peter and St James, but mortals must take heed for if the one who cuts the chicory should utter a single word as he digs he will die upon the instant.
A man must learn to keep silent if he desires life.
The Mandrake's Herbal
White Milk
The candles lighting the solar guttered in the draught, sending long shadows gliding across the deserted room. Elena hurried down the length of the solar to the door of Lady Anne's bedchamber at the far end. She was praying that Athan had received her message. They wouldn't have long; she just hoped that it would be long enough.
First, though, she had to retrieve the mandrake from where she had hidden it beneath the linen in her little chest. This might be her only chance to use it. And she had to do it this evening. She had to finish the dream. She couldn't face another night of hearing that infant's wails in her dream, that awful sick sensation of dread which made her heart race and her stomach turn sour. A fear that was nameless and faceless was a thousand times worse than the demons and beasts that leered from the tower of the church. If she could just see the end of her nightmare, then maybe it would cease to torment her.