Free The Poisoned Chalice by Bernard Knight

of rape, but in the three months since he had taken office, thankfully no such crime had come his way until now.
    â€˜Dame Madge from Polsloe priory, is the most skilled at problems of childbirth and women’s complaints. She should be called, for the sake of the poor girl.’
    The Archdeacon had followed this discussion intently. ‘It seems the best plan, but the city gates are shut for the night.’
    John snorted derisively. ‘This concerns a portreeve’s daughter! The gate will open at the command of a King’s coroner and, no doubt, the sheriff when he hears of it. I’ll get word to the castle to send an escort for the lady.’
    With that, he stepped into the night, leaving an excited buzz of discussion behind them in the tavern.

CHAPTER FOUR
In which the crowner meets a nun and an angry man
    When the Archdeacon, the coroner and Nesta arrived at the small infirmary alongside the cathedral cloisters, a messenger had already been sent to get the girl’s father from his meeting in the Guildhall. He arrived a few minutes after John, who had barely had time to go in with Nesta to see Christina.
    The girl was lying curled up on a low bed in the whitewashed cell, her eyes open but staring blankly at the wall. She was shivering violently, and a distraught elderly priest was attempting to soothe her with paternal murmurings. A townswoman who had been passing by when the Archdeacon discovered Christina in the Close had willingly come along as a comforter and was now sitting rather helplessly on a stool at the side of the bed.
    Nesta, whose compassion was boundless, went straight to the other side to kneel on the floor, with her face near the girl’s. She began talking to the young victim in soft tones, immediately getting some reaction, as Christina’s eyes moved to focus on Nesta’s face and her hand came out to grip her fingers.
    Before de Wolfe had any opportunity to intervene, the door flew open and Henry Rifford erupted into the room. Though John had never had much regard for the portreeve, he now felt very sorry for him in this tragic situation. Normally, the heavily built, almost bald man had a florid complexion, but now his cheeks were dead white, almost grey in colour. Without so much as a glance at the others crowded into the little room, he shot to the bed and put his arms around his only daughter’s shoulders. Christina held him around the neck and only one word escaped her lips, ‘Father!’
    There were no tears, no sobs, only the silent quivering.
    Suddenly John felt like an intruder and he motioned the Archdeacon and the priest to come outside, leaving the two women with the father and daughter. ‘We must wait until she has settled a little,’ he said. ‘There is no question of talking to the girl or trying to examine her until her father has calmed her.’
    De Alecon grimaced. ‘But she seems unnaturally calm now – I suppose that is from the shock of her terror?’ He knew nothing of women, being a truly celibate priest, which was something of a rarity.
    The door opened and Nesta emerged. ‘She would be better returned to her own home, to be among familiar things. This serpent’s nest of men, even though they be priests, is the worst place for her at this time.’ Her usually cheerful face was drawn and John saw tears in the corners of her eyes.
    The old priest, anxious to do something useful away from these women, hobbled off, saying that he would arrange for porters to bring a litter: it would be a short journey to Rifford’s house in the High Street as, within the small city, nowhere was more than a few minutes’ walk away.
    â€˜What about Richard de Revelle?’ asked the Archdeacon. ‘He is very thick with Rifford. When he learns of this, there will be hangings and ordeals in plenty!’
    Any response was cut off by the door being torn open and Henry Rifford appearing before them. His face was now