Jenks's help, pulled the two apart. Elizabeth seized Meg's arm and shook her once. "Listen to me," she said, putting her face close to hers. "If someone is poisoned with meadow saffron--maybe put into honey cakes--what would be the signs of it?"
"Don't truly know, but could be gradual--not a big dose that way. All I know is, someone must have told me not to get them mixed, 'cause it's a poison for sure," Meg insisted, hanging stiff and still in Elizabeth's strong grip. Meg seemed suddenly cowed by her. They were eye to eye. The girl even had freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, just like hers that Kat had worked so hard to whiten with lemon and buttermilk.
"I just work with simples for cures," Meg insisted. "Don't know much about poisons. But I'll tell you if she was tampering with that firkin there, that's the Lady Mary's privy cask of honeyed mead."
Elizabeth knelt to feel what had broken on the floor in that shattered vial. It was golden and sticky. "It is honey," she said. "Can honey be poisoned? Can it?" she shouted, first at Meg and then at their captive.
"I've heard of it happening natural," Meg put in. "You know, if the bees feed on something harmful 'fore they make their honey. But I s'pose someone could do it a-purpose too."
Harry sagged against the wall, loosing their captive. She was blocked in by all of them, but that moment's freedom was all she needed. Not moving quickly to cause alarm, she took another, smaller vial from her bosom and gulped its contents.
"She'd kill me if I din't," she mumbled her only words in a slurred voice. Then she dropped the vial and covered both eyes with her hands and pressed herself back against the stone wall as if to wait for death.
Elizabeth yanked the girl into her grasp. "So you can talk. Speak, and right now. Who put you up to this? Jenks, get a cup and pour some beer in it. We've got to make her drink it, dilute that venom. Listen to me, girl," she said, shaking her, "I am the Princess Elizabeth, the queen's sister, so you must tell
me directly."
She'd forgotten Meg didn't know, and at that revelation the girl evidently swooned against Jenks. Elizabeth made no move to help her. So what if she'd been ill? She was in charge of these herbs and should have kept them safe. But what sickened and infuriated Elizabeth most was the memory of herself just this evening lifting that tankard of mead to her aunt's lips. At least now Mary would have no drink or cakes that were not inspected.
"Who sent you here?" Elizabeth demanded of the poisoner. "Help us, and we'll take care of you. Do you know anything about men attacking his lordship here with poison arrows?"
But the girl said nothing else and wilted right before them, soon so weak she couldn't stand. They could get no beer down her. She spit it out, and they stood in the puddle of it, mixed with the girl's own urine that wet her thin skirts. In a quarter hour she clutched her chest and gasped for air. Her pulse faded.
"Though this is no ruse, stay with her, Jenks," Elizabeth ordered. He had gone back to fanning Meg's face with his cap as she, at least, recovered. "We'd best look in on the Lady Mary, in case she has any of her favorite drink or cakes by her bed at night."
Followed by Harry and Meg, she hurried up the steps, then the stairs above. They tiptoed into Mary's chamber, amazed the cellar walls were thick enough that no one on the second floor had heard them shouting. Glenda was dozing, but she woke with a start.
"Thought you been long gone, milady," she said to Elizabeth and struggled to her feet to dip a deep curtsy, as if she'd been practicing-- or somehow knew her real identity. "Is aught amiss? Oh, there you are, girl," she added to Meg. "Come to take your turn here at last, I hope."
Elizabeth snatched the familiar tankard from the chest at the bedside and sniffed at it, then handed it to Henry, who gave it to Meg. As the four of them stood by her bed, Mary Boleyn opened her eyes.
"Oh," she said,
"Don't truly know, but could be gradual--not a big dose that way. All I know is, someone must have told me not to get them mixed, 'cause it's a poison for sure," Meg insisted, hanging stiff and still in Elizabeth's strong grip. Meg seemed suddenly cowed by her. They were eye to eye. The girl even had freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, just like hers that Kat had worked so hard to whiten with lemon and buttermilk.
"I just work with simples for cures," Meg insisted. "Don't know much about poisons. But I'll tell you if she was tampering with that firkin there, that's the Lady Mary's privy cask of honeyed mead."
Elizabeth knelt to feel what had broken on the floor in that shattered vial. It was golden and sticky. "It is honey," she said. "Can honey be poisoned? Can it?" she shouted, first at Meg and then at their captive.
"I've heard of it happening natural," Meg put in. "You know, if the bees feed on something harmful 'fore they make their honey. But I s'pose someone could do it a-purpose too."
Harry sagged against the wall, loosing their captive. She was blocked in by all of them, but that moment's freedom was all she needed. Not moving quickly to cause alarm, she took another, smaller vial from her bosom and gulped its contents.
"She'd kill me if I din't," she mumbled her only words in a slurred voice. Then she dropped the vial and covered both eyes with her hands and pressed herself back against the stone wall as if to wait for death.
Elizabeth yanked the girl into her grasp. "So you can talk. Speak, and right now. Who put you up to this? Jenks, get a cup and pour some beer in it. We've got to make her drink it, dilute that venom. Listen to me, girl," she said, shaking her, "I am the Princess Elizabeth, the queen's sister, so you must tell
me directly."
She'd forgotten Meg didn't know, and at that revelation the girl evidently swooned against Jenks. Elizabeth made no move to help her. So what if she'd been ill? She was in charge of these herbs and should have kept them safe. But what sickened and infuriated Elizabeth most was the memory of herself just this evening lifting that tankard of mead to her aunt's lips. At least now Mary would have no drink or cakes that were not inspected.
"Who sent you here?" Elizabeth demanded of the poisoner. "Help us, and we'll take care of you. Do you know anything about men attacking his lordship here with poison arrows?"
But the girl said nothing else and wilted right before them, soon so weak she couldn't stand. They could get no beer down her. She spit it out, and they stood in the puddle of it, mixed with the girl's own urine that wet her thin skirts. In a quarter hour she clutched her chest and gasped for air. Her pulse faded.
"Though this is no ruse, stay with her, Jenks," Elizabeth ordered. He had gone back to fanning Meg's face with his cap as she, at least, recovered. "We'd best look in on the Lady Mary, in case she has any of her favorite drink or cakes by her bed at night."
Followed by Harry and Meg, she hurried up the steps, then the stairs above. They tiptoed into Mary's chamber, amazed the cellar walls were thick enough that no one on the second floor had heard them shouting. Glenda was dozing, but she woke with a start.
"Thought you been long gone, milady," she said to Elizabeth and struggled to her feet to dip a deep curtsy, as if she'd been practicing-- or somehow knew her real identity. "Is aught amiss? Oh, there you are, girl," she added to Meg. "Come to take your turn here at last, I hope."
Elizabeth snatched the familiar tankard from the chest at the bedside and sniffed at it, then handed it to Henry, who gave it to Meg. As the four of them stood by her bed, Mary Boleyn opened her eyes.
"Oh," she said,
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