Heart of Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

items that she had already identified and described, one containing nothing except some small, shrivelled flower heads, some withered leaves and some coarse grains of a bronze-coloured substance.
         ‘What are those?’ the Abbess asked.
         ‘The granules are ground resin of myrrh. It relieves pain, especially in the muscles and in the stomach. These flowers are marigolds and these’ – she pointed to the cracked, crumbling leaves – ‘are vervain. The vervain is unusual because it’s a magical remedy and I am surprised to find it included in this potion.’
         ‘Magical?’ the Abbess and Josse said together.
         ‘Aye. Folks say it has the power to protect a fighting man. Also lads and lassies put it in love potions.’
         ‘What is it doing here?’
         ‘I cannot say, my lady, other than to tell you that it is said to have another purpose. As do the marigolds.’ Sister Tiphaine frowned, almost as if she was reluctant to go on.
         ‘What purpose?’ the Abbess’s voice was barely above a whisper.
         The herbalist looked up, first at the Abbess and then at Josse. Then she said, ‘Both are said to ward off the foreign pestilence that folks call the plague.’
        ‘Plague?’ Josse’s horrified cry seemed to echo in the small room. Turning to the Abbess, he said, ‘My lady, there is no time to waste, we must—’
         But she was not looking shocked or frightened; she was staring at him with kindness and compassion in her eyes. He thought about how strange she had seemed, how detached. And then he thought about the body on the cot, covered carefully right up to the forehead. And about the barrier that had been erected across the entrance to the recess where the dead man lay.
         ‘This was no surprise,’ he said wonderingly. ‘You already knew the dead man was suffering from the pestilence. Didn’t you?’
         And yet you brought me here, he wanted to shout, led me right up to where the victim lay and deliberately kept me in ignorance as to what killed him!
         But he kept the flare of anger under control. And he thought, no, that is not right; the pestilence did not kill him, for the man was murdered.
         The Abbess seemed to be waiting until his train of thought ran its course. When at last she spoke, it was to say, ‘Sir Josse, it is true that I suspected. Sister Euphemia told me today that when she studied the dead man’s body last night there were signs of a rash, although when she looked again first thing this morning, it had faded. Now we cannot say for sure what the sickness was, for, as Sister Euphemia points out, many diseases bring spots and not all are fatal.’
         Josse tried to cheer himself up by trying to think of a few non-fatal rash-producing diseases but the attempt was a dismal failure. ‘Were there—’ He started again. ‘Did the infirmarer observe any other marks on the body to suggest the pestilence?’
         The Abbess shook her head. ‘Not those that I suspect you have in mind. The eyes were bloodshot and inflamed; there were strange spots inside the mouth.’ She put out her hand and briefly touched Josse’s arm. ‘No black swellings,’ she said softly. ‘Thank the Lord.’
         ‘Amen,’ Josse said fervently.
         For some time there was silence in the herbalist’s hut. Then Sister Tiphaine spoke. ‘I would suggest,’ she said slowly, ‘that a dead man with the pestilence in his body is less of a danger than a living one. Unless you’re planning on eating him,’ she added, quite mystifying Josse, who could not see the relevance of the remark.
         Neither, it seemed, could the Abbess. With a look of faint distaste at Sister Tiphaine – who noticed and, observed by Josse but not by the Abbess, gave a quick grin – she pointed at the contents of the little bag and said, ‘Where, Sister, do you think the victim could have acquired this remedy?’
         Sister