The Tavern in the Morning Read Online Free PDF Page B

vegetables, slice of bread, when Tobe yells—’
    ‘Tobe?’
    ‘Tobias,’ Goody Anne said. ‘The boy.’
    ‘Ah. Go on, Tilly.’
    ‘Tobe, he yells out, another chicken pie! and I thinks to myself, that’ll mean starting a new one. Then, like I says because ’e were so nice, I thinks, why not give ’im the first slice from the nice fresh pie, and the last bit of the old pie to whoever else wanted pie? ‘Specially when I had a look and saw it was some silly fool of a man, half-drunk at that, who’d been going to get the new bit.’ She glanced at Josse. ‘See?’
    It was a rambling explanation, but Josse thought he did see. ‘You had two orders for the pie,’ he said slowly, ‘one from your nice handsome man, and one from the man who we now know was Peter Ely. Yes?’ Tilly nodded, wiping a long trail of greenish snot on to the back of her wrist. Josse stepped back a pace. ‘There was only one serving left in the pie you’d been dishing out and, naturally, you’d have served it to the handsome man rather than cut into a fresh pie. Yes?’
    ‘Aye,’ Tilly agreed. ‘She – the mistress – is very strict about that. We always have to finish one dish before we start on the next.’
    ‘Quite,’ Josse said. ‘But then, just as you were about to take the handsome man’s meal out to him, Tobias calls through another order for the pie, which means you can give the last of the old pie—’
    ‘I don’t know as I care for all this talk of old pie,’ Anne interrupted plaintively. ‘It wasn’t old, it were made fresh that morning, same as all the day’s food!’
    ‘Yes, Anne,’ Josse said, trying not to let his irritation show. ‘I’m only saying old pie to distinguish it from the uncut one. All right?’
    Anne sniffed. ‘Suppose so.’
    ‘Now, Tilly.’ He turned back to the girl. ‘You decide to give the last slice of the cut pie to Peter Ely, and you prepare a pretty trencher of the pie you’ve just cut into for your handsome man. Yes?’
    ‘Aye!’ Tilly risked a thin smile.
    ‘There!’ Josse exclaimed. ‘That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?’
    But the girl had slumped into despondency again, ‘I gave ’im the pie what killed ’im,’ she moaned.
    ‘Yes, child, but it wasn’t your fault!’ Josse said, exasperated. ‘You didn’t poison the remaining slice in the cut pie, did you?’
    ‘Course not!’
    ‘Well, then. And—’ He had been on the point of saying, and if you hadn’t swapped the portions, your handsome man would have died instead of Peter Ely. But it wasn’t a comment which stood any chance of cheering Tilly up, so he didn’t.
    *   *   *
    Later, lying on a narrow cot under covers so thin that he was glad of his thick cloak – Goody Anne had explained that he could normally have had more blankets, only the ones Peter Ely had sicked up on still weren’t dry – Josse reviewed the day’s progress.
    It didn’t take long.
    Someone had wanted to kill someone. They’d tracked him to the inn at Tonbridge, spied for long enough to hear him order his supper, then somehow they’d sneaked into a busy kitchen and slipped a fatal dose of wolfs bane into the portion of pie destined for the victim.
    Wolfs bane, Josse thought, momentarily distracted. Also known as monk’s hood, because of the hood-shaped blue flowers, it had leaves like parsley and a root like a little brown turnip. Used by healers to rub on the skin for pain relief, but to be handled with care as all parts of the plant were poisonous. One of the oldest of mankind’s poisons, well-known to – probably well-used by – the Greeks and the Romans.
    Easy to get hold of, here in south-east England? Josse didn’t know. But, easy or not, someone had managed it.
    The poisoned pie was virtually on its way to the victim – he picked up his thread – when young Tilly swaps the trenchers so as to reward her friend the handsome man with the newly-cut pie. Poor lass, he thought, distracted again, I don’t think