Wait. Yes, he had.
He had gone to Sir Clement on the occasion ofSir Clement's outburst, had spoken with him with just before SirClement had called down God's judgment on himself. Had Sire Philipgoaded that from him? And if so, had there been a chance then toput something in his food? Frevisse shut her eyes, trying toremember the scene. He had come up behind Sir Clement, but shecould not recall that he had ever bent over the table or even comeclose to it. Dishes and drink had been well out of his easy reach;anything he might have done that way would have been obvious tosomeone.
Then had he had help? An accomplicefrom among other victims of Sir Clement's tormenting, willing toshare the risk and not likely to become a greater threat to SirePhilip than Sir Clement was? Who had been in a position to dowhat needed to be done at the table in the hall?
Jevan, of course, with access to every dishhe had served to his uncle there. He could have easilyintroduced poison to some dish before serving it. And Guy andLady Anne had both been there, in reach of the dishes after theywere served. It had been Guy who took the bottle and cup fromthe aumbry here in Sire Philip's room, before Sir Clement's finalattack. Had they planned that far ahead, to have poison tohand here if Sir Clement failed to die in the hall?
It would surely have been best if he had diedat the table, saving the peril of giving him more poison. That brought her back to the continuing question of how he couldhave been poisoned there and no one else affected. Unless…she had read somewhere that a poison taken in small doses longenough would be rendered harmless to the person taking it.
That was too complicated. Surely thatwas too complicated, involving too many people – Sire Philip, Guy,Anne, possibly Jevan – over too long a time. Unless she couldfind they were acquainted before now and had been in contact witheach other months ago.
Frevisse realized she had lingered adangerously long time in a room where she had no right to be. But belatedly she realized there was one last place to look, andbrought the stool from the table to stand on so she could see theaumbry's top. Nothing was there, not even an appreciableaccumulation of dust; Sire Philip's servant was thorough at hiswork.
Careful to replace the stool exactly, shewent to open the door enough to look out. There was no onethere, and she slipped out and down the stairs, stillthinking. It would be simplest if God had indeed struck SirClement in the hall, meaning to give an awful but not fatalwarning, and then a human hand had taken advantage of the moment topoison him in Sire Philip's room. Only Guy and Sire Philiphad handled the cup of wine. Guy had opened the bottle – andby its cork it had been opened before. Had there been chancefor someone else to put something into the cup as it went from theaumbry to Sir Clement's hand? She had not beenwatching. She did not remember. It was possible, thoughit would have been far easier to have put the poison in the bottlebeforehand. And it needn't have been Sire Philip, though itwas his bottle and his chamber. Anyone might have chosen his- or her – time and come in to do that, just as Frevisse had chosenhers. Though that carried the risk of someone other than SirClement being poisoned.
Who was desperate enough to do any ofthis?
Sire Philip who might have no better chanceto be rid of Sir Clement's threat. Lady Anne, who was in lovewith Guy but threatened with marriage to Sir Clement whom sheopenly detested, according to Robert. Guy, Sir Clement'sheir, wanting Lady Anne for himself, hating his uncle. JevanDey, tired of Sir Clement's insults and torments.
They had all been there. And thephysician, but he at least had no reason to want Sir Clementdead. Or no reason that Frevisse knew of, she amended.
She had reached the bottom of the stairs andwas crossing the antechamber to return to her aunt when the chapeldoor began to open behind her. Instantly, because it waseasier than having someone wonder why she had been up to SirePhilip's room, Frevisse swung around, to seem that she was justcoming toward the chapel.
Lady Anne, coming out, bent her head inslight, silent greeting, and would have gone past except Frevissesaid, “Please accept my sympathy on Sir Clement's death.”
The girl's face had been quiet, hersummer-blue eyes down after her glance at Frevisse. Now shelooked up, a corner of her cupid mouth slightly awry, as ifsomething amused her that she knew should not. “Thankyou.”
Frevisse asked, “Is Sire Philip in thechapel?”
“Sire Philip?” Lady Anne's puzzlementwas clear. “Who…?”
“The priest who was with Sir Clement at…the end, yesterday.” Frevisse dropped her voice and eyes asif not wishing to intrude on or add to Lady Anne's grief.
“Oh. I didn't know his name. No,I haven't seen him today.”
She walked on. Frevisse went with her,asking with seeming casualness, “Will you be leaving soon, as soonas…” She paused over the words, delicately short ofmentioning matters that might be distressing to the girl.
With no apparent distress, Lady Anne said,“As soon as the crowner says we may, yes.”
“And you'll take Sir Clement's body withyou?”
“Oh, no. Some of our people will followafter with it. With the cold, we'll ride on as fast as maybe.”
Frevisse said in a discreet tone, slightlychanging the subject, “He wasn't a well-liked man.”
“He was a hated man,” Lady Anne said withoutqualm. “By a great many people.”
“And now you'll be free to marry Guy, won'tyou?”
Lady Anne stopped to look at herwide-eyed. “How do you know that?”
Frevisse made a light gesture. “Peoplegossip and I can't always help hearing them.” More to seeLady Anne's response than because it was her own opinion, sheadded, “He seems a goodly young man.”
Lady Anne's smile brightened her eyes todazzling. “He is! Oh, indeed he is!” A littlemischievously, she asked, “Did the gossips also know we're to bemarried as soon as the banns have been cried?”
“They didn't know that, no.” Frevissefound the girl's smile infectious, and was glad Lady Anne's slenderbody precluded suspicion that desperate need more than desire wasbehind her eagerness to marry.
But such great love, long thwarted by SirClement as it had been, could have grown desperate for that reasonalone. Was Guy's desire for her as great as hers for him?
But Lady Anne was going on about his virtueswith all the certainty of youth that they would be enough to bringthem happiness. “He's handsome. Anyone can seethat. And brave. You should see him on the tourneyfield. And Sir Clement's heir. He'll have everythingnow that Sir Clement is dead. I think that's why Sir Clementhated him. Sir Clement never wanted anyone to have anythingof his. How disappointed he must be to find himself dead andeverything gone into Guy's hands.” She was clearly delightedwith the idea.
“I actually heard him call Guy murderousduring that quarrel in the great hall.”
“He was always saying things like that! Miserable man.”
“But Guy never fought him over it?”
Lady Anne's pretty face tightened into anexpression of deep disgust. “He never would. He said heowed Sir Clement duty as head of the family. But that wholebusiness of him trying to murder Sir Clement always made me soangry.”
“Guy tried to murder him?”
“No, of course not.” Lady Annelaughed. “Some time before I was his ward, for Christmas orMichaelmas or Lady Day or some such, Guy brought him marchpane fora gift. Sir Clement had a greedy tooth for sweets and shouldhave been well-pleased. Rude, as always, of course, butpleased. Instead he raged that Guy trying to poison him andeven threw the marchpane – all of it – on the floor!” Thewaste of so much sugar, butter, almonds, and whatever elsedelicious might have been in the expensive treat clearly appalledher.
“Why? Did the marchpane make himill?”
“He didn't even taste it! He justlooked at it and threw it on the floor! Afterwards he wasforever calling Guy a murderous whelp or something like, but Guynever heeded and neither did anyone else. Everyone knew whatSir Clement was like.”