Justice Is Served: an Edward Red Mage short mystery

by Angela P. Wade

  * * *

  The court of the new Baroness was still assembled in her Great Hall when we arrived at Castle Portsmouth.

  “What are you doing back here?” Arnold Glazier demanded as I burst into the hall, followed by the black-robed Sister Viola.

  “Master Arnold, your Excellency, Baroness Agnes, I apologize for the intrusion, but some doubt still remains regarding the death of the Baron,” I said.

  “But you said he died he died of natural causes!” squeaked Agnes indignantly. “His funeral is to begin in less than half an hour!”

  “I have in my hand,” I said, holding up a parchment, “an order bearing the seal and signature of Mother Lillian of the Order of Saint Morgana of the Great Rose Temple of Belcamp. It instructs me to examine the Baron’s body and do whatever I feel necessary to prove or disprove that he was murdered. The funeral can wait until I am finished. Sister Viola here and Brother David of the Order of Saint Tannis can witness.”

  “Father, this is intolerable!” Agnes protested. “Make them go away!”

  Glazier, however, had taken the scroll from my hand and was reading it. “I say, this is preposterous!” he said, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “You and that elf woman are grasping at straws—I swear I’ll find the whore and have her horsewhipped!”

  “Zora has nothing to do with this,” I said. “This was my idea. If I am wrong, you can have me horsewhipped!”

  “Whip him now, Father!” demanded Agnes. “He insults our court!”

  Glazier shook his head. “I don’t know how he got the clergy to go along with this, but a command from the Temple must be obeyed. Examine the body,” he said to me. “It is lying in the castle chapel. Do whatever appalling, disgusting thing you must, but you’d better have that body ready for the funeral when you’re done. Sister Viola, Brother David, and Father Reynard here can all watch you. But I assure you, no one here did anything to harm the Baron, and when you’re finished, I hope you’re prepared for me to bring you up on charges of slander and the sacrilegious mutilation of a corpse!”

  In my experience, there are two types of noblemen, active and passive. The active types are obsessed with fighting, riding, and hunting, and their vices tend to dueling and promiscuous lechery. The passive sorts are preoccupied with money and luxury, are prone to gluttony and drunkenness, and are usually uncommonly fat. Baron Hubert had fallen into the latter category. Cutting into his corpse reminded me of the time I had once seen fishermen butchering a whale, but since his servants had long since cleaned up his vomit from the floor, I had no other option. I had to borrow a large knife from the kitchen, as my brass spell-knife was wholly inadequate to the task. It was a bloody, slimy, wretched job, not to speak of foul-smelling. Brother David and I found ourselves up to our elbows in the Baron’s bowels before we found what we were looking for. But we did find it.

  I decided against cleaning up before returning to the court. I figured the gore would make our evidence more credible. The clerics and I were met with audible gasps as we entered. Both David and I were smeared liberally with blood, and the priest carried a bowl full of some loathsome substance.

  “Bring us a large bowl, a pitcher of water, and a white cloth,” I commanded, my usual shyness dissolving under the weight of my discovery. Glazier was simply too appalled to protest, and Agnes had gone pale. After an awkward pause, three servants scurried to obey me. When they returned, and the clean bowl was placed on the table, I had one of the servants stretch the cloth out over it. David emptied his bowl out onto the cloth.

  “Now,” I said, taking the pitcher of water from the last servant, “these clerics will all testify that this here,” I said, indicating the noxious mess David had dumped out, “was taken from the stomach of the corpse, and nothing has been added to it.” I slowly poured the water over it. “Mixed with the remains of the food he had eaten, we discovered. . . .” I began mucking, very carefully, through the slop with my fingers. “Ground glass.” I poured a little more water, using the cloth as a filter, until a small pile of glittering grains stood out against the fabric. “Someone had put ground glass into His Excellency’s food, probably in with the oysters where it might be mistaken for sand. It irritated his stomach until he went into a violent spell of vomiting, which in turn brought on his fatal fit. I am sorry,” I said, looking around the room at my nauseated listeners, “to have to present my case so graphically, but Father Reynard, Brother David, Sister Viola, and myself no longer have any doubt but that Baron Hubert was murdered.”

  Arnold Glazier stood blinking for a few moments, apparently in a state of shock.

  “And. . . . and I suppose you all assume I did it? Because I work with glass? Has it occurred to you that anyone could have crushed a bottle or jar and put a few shards in His Excellency’s food?”

  “I do not pretend to be familiar with the workings of your guild, Master Glazier,” I said, “but Father Reynard, who has the clerical oversight of all the artisans in the kingdom, is of the opinion that the glass is fine enough to be the sort used in enameling.”

  Glazier’s shock gave way to cold fury. “And don’t you think it’s possible that someone could have chosen this means of murder to implicate me? It’s obvious what’s happened here! That Zora woman did it, so her son could inherit the coronet!”

  Father Reynard stepped forward at this point. “Mistress Zora would have found it difficult to steal enameling powders from Glass Island,” he said, “as only guild members and their families are even allowed to set foot on it. It is my opinion that you, Master Arnold Glazier, have murdered your son-in-law, in order to gain control of Portsmouth.”

  “That is obscene!” Glazier shouted. “How can you possibly believe . . . .”

  “We have already sent a messenger to the King,” Father Reynard said.

  I wondered how long it would take the King to get the message and dispatch a troop of soldiers to arrest Glazier, and whether or not Glazier would have ordered his own servants to kill us all before they arrived.

  Without warning, Agnes began screaming.

  “I don’t care!” she shrieked. “I don’t care! I don’t care!”

  Everyone in the hall, who had previously been mesmerized by the argument between Glazier and the priest, turned to look at the girl.

  “I don’t care! I don’t care if I die, I don’t care if I hang, I couldn’t do it, I just couldn’t do it!”

  Her face was blotchy, her eyes were stark and staring, and her breath came in the ragged gasps of hysteria.

  “Agnes, what in God’s name are you talking about?” Glazier demanded. “Pull yourself together!”

  But the girl was beyond reason. “This is all your fault!” she shrieked at her father. “You were going to make me, and I couldn’t! I couldn’t!” She was sobbing now. “I couldn’t be the wife of that gross, disgusting old man! I’d rather die! I couldn’t, I couldn’t. . . . He was horrible! I hated him! He made me sick! I’d rather die . . . .”

  Glazier stared at his daughter, dumbfounded. “Agnes,” he said softly, “what are you saying?”

  “I did it! I killed him! I watched him die, and I’m glad! I’d rather hang than have let him touch me!”

  * * *

  As the Baroness of Portsmouth, Agnes was entitled to beheading. Out of consideration for her age, she was drugged beforehand. Her end was more merciful than her husband’s had been. Of course, her execution left the city of Portsmouth without a ruler. The King’s advisers, after much deliberation and delay, admitted that in cases where a man dies without legitimate heirs, a bastard may inherit. The son of a courtesan became the Baron of Portsmouth.

  Zora might not have known as much about kingdom law as she had thought—but as Baron Evan’s guardian, she learned quickly enough.

  Author’s notes:

  About this series: If you enjoyed this short mystery, or just want to see Edward continue to make an ass of himself in the presence of beautiful women, may I suggest you read my other novels. Currently,
two full-length Edward Red Mage mysteries are available in digital format: Cloak of Obscurity, the first story in the series, which takes place before this one, and Queen Isabeau's Book, its sequel, which takes place afterwards.

  About this story: although the Edward Red Mage mysteries take place in a fictional world, this particular case was inspired by historical fact, or at least legend. Reay Tannahill, on pages 238-239 of Food in History, recounts that in 1368 the Duke of Clarence reportedly died of a surfeit of truffles at his marriage feast.

  I smell a rat.