An Uncertain Choice by Jody Hedlund

Author:Jody Hedlund
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

14

I CROUCHED BESIDE THE NOBLEMAN SPRAWLED ON THE floor. A dark stain had formed around the man’s mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head, and each breath was deep and labored.

The woman who kneeled next to the nobleman wept openly, her cries mingling with the gasps and anxious murmurings of the other guests.

Lady Rosemarie started to kneel next to me, but I caught the eye of the duke. One look was all it took for the older knight to guide Rosemarie a safe distance away.

I began to loosen the mantle and shirt of the nobleman, hoping to make the man’s breathing easier. “Tell the cook to bring me a decoction of black hellebore to purge this man’s stomach,” I called to a nearby servant, who immediately ran off to do my bidding.

“Can he be saved?” Sir Bennet asked, lowering to one knee. His features creased with worry.

“It depends on how much poison he consumed and how quickly it reaches his blood.” I began to roll up the nobleman’s shirtsleeve, knowing I would need to do the bloodletting myself because the physician wouldn’t be able to arrive in time. I’d done it before on the battlefield and the thought of doing so again didn’t scare me. “Do we know the source of the poison yet?”

Sir Bennet nodded toward a silver goblet lying on the floor surrounded by a pool of strange-colored ale.

“The ale was poisoned?” I surveyed the room and the numerous cups of ale that many of the guests were still holding. Cold fear slithered through me. How many more people would suffer?

“Take away the ale,” I ordered another servant standing nearby. “Dump every last drop into the moat.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sir Bennet said gravely. “I don’t believe anyone else is at risk.”

But already the guests were abandoning their goblets, their faces drawn with worry.

Sir Bennet held a goblet in his own hand. He glanced inside to the spicy liquid and then swirled it in a circular motion. When he raised his eyes, they were as dark and murky as the ale. “I have already sipped from this goblet,” he said in a low, almost dazed voice.

“Are you ill?” I appraised my friend, checking for signs of poisoning.

“I’m perfectly fine.” Sir Bennet stared at the spilled goblet on the floor nearby. “But it should be me lying on the floor at death’s door.”

“No one should be lying on the floor.” My keen gaze penetrated the crowd, searching for signs that anyone else was suffering.

“Yes,” Sir Bennet insisted. “The poison was meant for me.”

“How can you be sure?”

Sir Bennet stared back and forth between the two goblets again, before his gaze came to rest on the one that had spilled. “That one was mine.” It did indeed have a special crest of small jewels around the base, the same as the other goblets given to those seated at the head table.

My pulse slowed to a crawl as I tried to make sense of my friend’s words.

“I was looking at the artwork with Baron York.

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