Chapter Five #2
“It’s possible,” Bronwyn said. “But I think she meant to do this. As a trick.”
“If that’s the case, it’s a nasty joke. God.” He ran a hand through his thick, black curls. “The trouble that’s caused. Do you realize that if the empress hadn’t been feeling so benevolent, she might have blamed me, and all of us, for this? She could have us imprisoned or…” He turned a shade pale.
“I know. That’s why I wanted to test the theory.”
“You could have fed the chicken to a dog.”
Bronwyn shook her head. “No. I like dogs. I wouldn’t want to do that. What if it got sick?”
Hugh looked at her. “So you’d risk your life instead?” He snorted. “I don’t know whether to send you packing or hug you.”
Bronwyn helped herself to another bite. “Put me back to work, I say.”
The servants helped themselves to the leftover meals of chicken, and no one got ill, although one greedy servant did suffer indigestion from eating too much, too quickly.
Word got around that the chicken was fine, and Agatha had been mistaken, but only amongst themselves.
Although knowing how easy it was for rumors to spread in the castle, Bronwyn knew the truth wouldn’t stay quiet for long.
After dinner, Bronwyn entered the main dining hall and sought out Lady Alice. Her friend sat with the other ladies-in-waiting, who gathered near the empress. Some people talked, and others listened to a minstrel playing the lute.
“Bronwyn,” Lady Alice said, “have you found out what was wrong with the chicken? Was it poison?”
“No. We think it might have been improperly cooked by one of our novice cooks, not paying attention.” Bronwyn turned to Agatha and lowered her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry you felt ill, Mistress Agatha.”
There. If the taster saw her making apologies, she might believe everything was fine, for the moment.
Agatha put a hand to her throat. “Well, I won’t say it wasn’t frightening, but I suppose there was no harm done. I was very ill.”
Bronwyn lowered her gaze. “I hope you are feeling better.”
Agatha sniffed. “A little. Fetch me a cup of wine, girl.”
Lady Alice shot her a dirty look as Bronwyn filled up a cup, handing it to her.
Agatha drank and wiped her mouth. “You’re just lucky I didn’t report the cooking staff. I know we are in a siege, but that’s no reason to allow sloppy cooking. That chicken could have killed me.”
Bronwyn made her apologies again and disappeared. As she left the hall, Lady Alice cornered her. “What are you up to?”
“The chicken was fine. It wasn’t poorly cooked at all. She was lying. She made it all up.”
Alice’s eyes widened. “She did? But why?”
“I think you’re right about her. Did Agatha have an argument with any of the ladies-in-waiting today?”
“No, but… She did. Well.” Lady Alice looked across the room and leaned against the doorframe for a moment, surveying the people.
“You know the empress is a native French speaker and demands all us ladies speak it or learn it. Agatha had bragged that she had studied the language for six years and had a French aunt and uncle. When the empress spoke to her in the language, however, she could only make out every third word and couldn’t remember the word for oysters. ”
“‘Oysters’?”
“Yes. Hu?tres, in case you were wondering. Anyway, the empress laughed at her and hinted that she needed to study with the rest of us, as Agatha clearly didn’t remember very much.
The other ladies were amused and had a laugh at her expense.
Agatha bore it well, but her face was as red as a strawberry.
She was furious. Do you think she might have faked it to get back at the empress? ”
“It would fit the sort of behavior you’ve told me about,” Bronwyn said.
“What will you do now?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll check on her later and see what I can find out.”
The young women parted ways. Later that evening, before bed, Bronwyn crept up the circular staircases to the rooms of the ladies-in-waiting walked down the corridor. It was relatively quiet, but she smelled something. It smelled like… chicken.
She followed her nose to the door of one of the bedrooms and spotted a man going in. Bronwyn crept forward. The door was slightly ajar, and she stood a little ways outside it when she heard a familiar voice. It was male. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“What do you want?” Agatha’s voice carried.
“You. Your little show tonight might have convinced the empress, but it didn’t fool me. You’re lucky you weren’t found out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t deny it. That chicken was fine. You just put on a show to make the empress feel afraid that someone was trying to kill her. I’m surprised it worked,” the man said.
A sniff. “Get out.”
“Not until we have a little chat, you and me.” The male body leaned against the door, closing it.
The voices were muffled, but Bronwyn crept closer and listened, although it was hard to make out.
“You’re going to do a little job for me,” the male voice said. His weight shifted and the door opened ever so slightly. He mumbled something.
Bronwyn inched closer to the door.
Agatha laughed. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll tell the empress you were faking. That you played a cruel trick on her. You’ll find yourself out on the street. I’m sure the empress won’t have a use for a taster who lies.”
“She won’t believe you,” Agatha snapped.
“Won’t she? The kitchen staff already don’t trust you. They know you lied. That busybody Bronwyn is on your tail, and the empress actually trusts her. Imagine what Empress Maud will think when I tell her about your little joke.”
A sigh. “What do you want?”
Bronwyn heard a noise nearby. She crept away, back down the stairwell, before she could be seen. So someone was blackmailing Agatha, but who?
Guards were marching down the stairs, so she shuffled aside and went down, back to the great hall, where she curled up to go to sleep.
Over the next few days, Bronwyn worked in the kitchens day and night. Over time, she had come to help and keep an eye on the potboys, scullery boys aged seven, eight, and nine who washed the plates and scoured pots until they were dry.
Bronwyn helped wherever needed, from grinding grain between stones to make flour to kneading dough until it was fine enough to shape into a grainy, rustic bread.
She was learning how to season and poach fish, as well as how to preserve meat, and she spent hours at the large roasting spit, turning the joints, be it lamb, chicken, or beef.
But all was not well. Aside from the ever-present threat of the siege, something was amiss. Hugh, the head cook, came into the kitchen, shaking his head.
Bronwyn came up to him. “What’s wrong?”
He frowned at her. “Not your business.”
Bronwyn returned to her task, which at that point was turning the spit. She felt his eyes on her and worked quietly, conscious of the hot, sweaty work.
An hour later, a page entered the room. He came up to her. “Lady Alice wants you.”
Hugh stood nearby and growled, “Who does she think she is? You can’t just pull one of my cooks away whenever you feel like it.”
The page reddened. “Sorry, Master Hugh, it’s just… She said it was important and to fetch Bronwyn as soon as I could. It can’t wait.”
Hugh glared at Bronwyn, as if she were personally responsible for this interruption. “Go. See what she wants. But you come right back here, understand? No dallying.”
Bronwyn nodded, handed over her task to another cook, and followed the page from the kitchen. He led her upstairs to one of the rooms, where Lady Alice looked up from her prayer book and berated the page for not knocking.
Once they were alone, she said, “Bronwyn, something is wrong.” She closed her book.
“Ever since Lady Morwenna fled, the empress has wanted more companions, but I think maybe one of the ladies has a beau or male friend or something. A lover, maybe. Like Lady Susanna used to speak of months back. She won’t talk of it now, but I don’t want to think what else it could be. ”
“Lady Alice, what are you talking about?” Bronwyn asked. “Master Hugh didn’t like you calling me away from the kitchen. You said it was important.”
“And it is, dash it all. And I don’t care about your Master Hugh; he’ll find someone else to bake bread. Listen, since the siege began, Empress Maud has been on edge. You know about the little accidents that have occurred?”
“Yes. She asked me to look into them. I’ve seen the drawings,” Bronwyn said.
Lady Alice nodded. “That’s not even half of it, we think. Lady Susanna thinks there is a spirit.”
Bronwyn smirked. “Yes, she mentioned that theory to me, too.”
“I don’t believe it, either, but two nights ago, Empress Maud returned to her room from dinner and screamed. A rotting apple had been left on her pillow. With a worm in it.”
Bronwyn recoiled. “The kitchen would never—”
“I know that. But she didn’t. The empress was horrified.
And remember, we’ve only been here a short while.
Who’s to say one of the kitchen servants didn’t decide to send her a little message?
But the strange thing about all this is that there were two guards posted outside her room and no one entered or left before she came in, so how did the apple get there?
I was there when Empress Maud spoke to the guards.
No one had been there. And the apple didn’t just appear. ”
Bronwyn tapped her chin in thought. This action was similar to the upturned chamber pot and the knife in the empress’s bed.
Both incidents had occurred in the empress’s room, and someone was slipping in and out of the chamber without the guards noticing.
That meant either a serious lapse in security, or someone had another way into the chamber.
Some method that was not commonly known.
“But that’s not all,” Alice continued. “Last night, a scrap of parchment was slipped under her door, and it had a horrible drawing of a woman wearing a crown, dying in a fire. I know it was meant to be the empress.”
“Did she see it?”