Free Falconer's Trial by Ian Morson

him.
    ‘You trickster. The blind boy was your son and the last time I saw him his sight was perfect.’
    She only spoke under her breath, so he couldn’t have heard. But Covele must have recognized her all the same. He suddenly stuffed the rest of his wares in his satchel and shook his head at his other customers.
    ‘I am sorry but I cannot sell any more today. The time is not propitious.’
    Despite the loud protests, he pushed through the crowd and hurried back up Fish Street in the opposite direction to Saphira. She made to follow him, lifting her skirts to keep pace. At first, she kept him in sight because of the strange hat with the spike on the top. But then he looked back at her and realized what was giving him away. He pulled his hat off his head and was soon lost amidst the rest of the people who thronged the street.
    Ann woke up that Sunday with a vague feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. Was it a genuine illness creeping over her? Or were the events of the last few days preying on her mind? There had been the unpleasant encounter with the red-haired Jew in Oxford, and the subsequent skirmish with Humphrey’s half-brother, Alexander. Both had left her with a nasty taste in her mouth, but neither had seemed so extreme as to make her ill.
    She had spent three days gathering all the information she could at the nunnery, each day talking to the nuns and taking some sustenance there, then going back to Botley to think. Her encounters with the drunken Alexander had not disturbed her thinking in the least. But she had left it until today before returning to Godstow to deliver her conclusions to the prioress. She had learned enough to know what the poor nun had done, but didn’t know if she would tell the whole truth to the prioress. But speak she must. So, though she felt ill, she knew she could not put it off any longer and rode the short distance to Godstow. Shown the same hospitality as before, Ann swallowed her nausea and ate and drank a little. Meanwhile, Gwladys looked at her expectantly, with the wrinkled visage of Sister Hildegard peering over her shoulder. Ann took a deep breath.
    ‘I do not think you have anything to worry about, other than to feel sorrow for a lost soul. If what I have learned is so, no one could have got into Marie’s cell the night she died. Every nun is accounted for, and no one else other than Hal Coke can have gained access. And I rule him out, as I was assured he had had too much to drink that night to even stand, let alone walk into the cloisters unnoticed.’
    Hildegard’s tongue clicked in disapproval at the behaviour of their gatekeeper. Then she realized she was supposed to be deaf to what Ann was saying, and blushed. Ann chose her words before continuing.
    ‘Of course, people – even young people – die naturally in their sleep from time to time. But…’
    The prioress held up her hand, not wishing to make Ann Segrim state the obvious. Ann breathed a sigh of relief and stood up to go. Gwladys managed a grim smile of thanks, and, by way of recompense for Ann’s inconvenience, offered the rest of the dried fruit that Sister Margaret had brought as usual. Ann accepted the gift and left.
    The prioress sat down in her room and pondered her choices. The matter was resolved, but in a most unsatisfactory way. Ann had tried to soften the blow, but the conclusion was clear. The implication of Ann’s enquiries was that Sister Margaret had knowingly killed herself. And self-murder was just as shocking as a killing by another person. One way or another, the matter would have to be buried. Along with the young nun.

SEVEN
    ‘ I t’s henbane, you idiot. You were lucky you only tasted a little.’
    Saphira sat on the end of Falconer’s bed looking at his prone form. He groaned and began to sit up. His vision blurred and the room swam. He lay back again. Saphira had arrived at Aristotle’s Hall late that morning to find the students who boarded there in a quandary. Their