Free A Holy Vengeance by Maureen Ash

profession. He was a very learned man and taught me much before he died, but I have chosen not to use the skills he imparted to me. I make only perfumes and unguents for cosmetic purposes. I do not prepare any mixtures that are medicaments, especially those that contain poisonous plants such as mandragora, which is an ingredient usually used in a concoction such as Emma wanted.”
    “Not even to help your friend?” Nicolaa asked sceptically.
    Constance’s wide mouth set in a firm line. “No,” she averred.
    “And why is that?”
    “My father’s death was due, albeit indirectly, to his attempt to aid a woman in distress over a sexual difficulty,” Constance replied shortly. “Nothing would persuade me to follow the same path.”
    “Explain that statement to me,” Nicolaa directed.
    The perfumer’s shoulders slumped. “I have not always lived in Lincoln, lady,” she said. “I came here four years ago from Boston, after my father died. As I said, he was a very skilled apothecary, but some of his theories about ailments and their cause were . . . different . . . from those commonly accepted, and the other apothecaries in the town regarded him as an incompetent because of it.”
    She raised her soft hazel eyes and met Nicolaa’s steadily. “One of the premises he held was particularly distasteful to them, and it was, in an oblique way, related to the very problem with which Emma wished me to help her. Shortly before my father died, a young girl claiming to have been raped became gravid as a result of the assault. As you know, if pregnancy results from this crime, it negates the charge of sexual attack, for it is believed a woman cannot become pregnant unless she enjoys the copulation. This girl was very young and, after she found herself to be carrying a babe, she was so shamed by the accusation that she hung herself. My father, who was a friend of the girl’s parents, was distraught on the family’s behalf, and especially for their poor dead daughter, who had been in such despair that she would rather consign her soul to damnation by committing suicide than live with the opprobrium heaped upon her. He had always opposed the premise that a woman cannot conceive unless she enjoys the act, and vociferously castigated the officials in the town for driving her to the commission of such a terrible sin. His recriminations earned him only one reward—expulsion from the apothecaries’ guild.”
    Constance paused for a moment, overtaken with emotion, before continuing in a less abrasive tone. “My father died shortly afterwards of a stoppage of the heart, and I will always believe it was despair that caused his fatal condition. I had no family left—my mother died when I was in infancy—and I took the small savings he left me and moved to Lincoln, so I would be far away from those who I believe were responsible for his demise. I also made a vow that I would never use such knowledge as I had to prepare medicaments, especially those pertaining to intimate matters. I saw what it did to my father, and I do not intend to allow it to happen to me.”
    Nicolaa had no doubt that the perfumer was telling the truth. It glistened in her eyes and in the manner in which she was barely holding tears in check.
    “Did you explain all of this to the armourer’s daughter when you refused her request for aid?”
    Constance shook her head. “No, I only told her that I would not help her, not the reason why. She became very upset with me when I declined and we did not speak for some weeks. When she came to see me a few days ago, she was repentant, and begged my forgiveness. We made the quarrel up, and it was then that she asked me to go with her to the shrine.”
    “Very well, mistress, I accept your explanation,” Nicolaa decided, “but that still does not answer the question of why you did not tell me about this disagreement before. If it was, as you claim, of no relevance, then what was your purpose in keeping it