Winter's Poison: A Medieval Historical Mystery by E.L. Johnson

Author:E.L. Johnson [Johnson, E.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2025-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Bronwyn spent the next day in the kitchen, rolling out dough, making sweet pastries and rolls for the lords and ladies, and gladly taking her turn at rotating the spit of a large haunch of beef slowly roasting over the fire all day. She liked it as the hot grease and fat dripped and spat from the fire, perfuming the air. It was hot, sweaty work, and the delicious smells made her mouth water. But best of all, it served as a distraction, and at that moment, was better than running around after possible murderers. She wanted the time to do a dull task that kept her busy and let her mind wander.

And then she saw him lounging by the kitchen entrance: a man wearing the exact same green cloak she’d seen the day de Grecy had been killed. Was it the murderer, come back for more? She dropped the bit of dough she was rolling with a pin. “Hey!”

Boys stopped and looked at her. She waved the rolling pin and ran toward the green-cloaked man. “Oi!”

The green-cloaked person stood leaning against a worktable, chatting with one of the boys when he saw her walk up. “What are you doing—hey!”

She took him by his cloak. “You messed with my rolls. You killed de Grecy!”

The man brushed her hands away, patting down his green cloak and pulling down the hood to reveal his face. He didn’t have black hair at all. He stood tall and thin, with a medium build and broad shoulders. In another setting, he might’ve been handsome, but his fair skin was pinched with anger and his blond hair had a rakish wave, his eyes narrowed with annoyance. “Who are you and why are you touching me with your dirty hands? Clear off, wench.”

“All right, what’s the problem here?” The baker Odo came up. “Who started it?”

“This was the cloak the poisoner wore in the kitchen the night de Grecy was killed,” Bronwyn said. “It was him. I’d recognize this cloak anywhere.”

The youth balked. “Are you joking? This is my cloak. What poison? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Odo, talk some sense into her.”

She glared at him, and realized, this wasn’t the same man who had pushed her, or had messed with the bread rolls that night. “I’m sorry. I… Where did you get that cloak? I thought you were the one who messed with my family’s bread rolls that night.”

The young man grimaced. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill anyone.” He backed away. “Odo, who is she?”

Odo frowned. “Haven’t seen you around much lately, Roger.”

Roger shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” He leaned in close. “I’ve been on a secret mission for the king.” To Odo, he asked, “What’s she wittering about?”

Odo scratched his double chin. “A man was killed a little over a week ago. De Grecy.”

“And what is that to me?” Roger asked.

“A man wearing a green cloak like yours was seen poisoning his bread rolls and killed him.”

Roger’s eyes widened.

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