I knew him well. He mixed scents for me and I often bought his herb concoctions.

I asked if I might speak to him in private and he conducted me into a little room behind the shop. Drying herbs hung on the beams and there were pleasant smells which were intensified during simple time.

“I wonder if you could tell me what this ale contains?” I said to him.

He looked astonished.

“I fancied that it was not as it should be and I thought you might be able to tell me why.”

He took the bottle from me and smelled it.

“Who is your brewer?” he asked.

“I do not think this has anything to do with the brewer. The rest in the cask was well enough.”

“Something has been added,” he said. “Could you give me a little time and I might be able to discover what?”

“Please do,” I said. “I will call in two days’ time.”

“I think I shall have an answer for you then,” he replied.

I went back to Lyon Court and there seemed to be a sudden menace about it. The lions which guarded the porch looked sly as well as fierce, sinister as well as handsome. I felt that I was being watched from one of the windows, though through which I could not say.

The thought kept recurring: Someone in that house wants me out of the way.

I was sure now that my soup had been poisoned. And now the ale.

So much depended on what the apothecary would have to tell me in two days’ time.

I was sleeping badly; I was pale and there were dark shadows under my eyes. I would lie in bed with Jake beside me and say: Does he want to be rid of me?

I thought of life without him and I felt wretched and lonely. I wanted him there; I wanted him to go on desiring me more than I desired him. I wanted to quarrel with him. In short, I wanted to return to the old relationship.

But he had changed. I had thought it was because he had become preoccupied with the coming war with Spain. But was this so?

Strange things began to happen.

Carrying a candle, I was mounting after dusk the stairs to the turret whither I had been earlier that day. I had discovered that I had lost a bow of ribbon from my gown and wondered if it was there. It was lonely in that wing of the house. Normally I should not have thought of this, but of late I had become nervous and was startled at the least sound. And as I mounted the spiral staircase I thought I heard a noise above me. I paused. The candle in my hand cast an elongated shadow on the wall. I noticed what looked like a grotesque face there—but it was only the shadow caused by the shape of the candlestick.

I stood very still. I was sure I could hear someone’s breathing above me. The turn of the staircase made it impossible to see more than a few steps ahead and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. All my instincts were warning me that I was in danger.

“Who is there?” I cried.

There was no answer, but I fancied I heard a quick intake of breath.

“Come down, whoever is there,” I called.

There was still no answer.

I felt as though I were rooted to the staircase. For some seconds I could not move. Someone was waiting for me up there … someone who had sent me to Mary Lee’s cottage, someone who had poisoned my soup and my ale.

Good sense was saying: Don’t go up there. Don’t attempt to find out now. This is not the time. It could be fatal if you took another step.

I thought I heard a board creak. And turning, I ran down the stairs as fast as I could.

I went to my room. I lay on my bed. My heart was beating madly. I was frightened. This was unlike me, but recent events had shaken me more than I had realized and I was not in my usual good health.

I must be strong, I thought. I must find out what was happening. I must know if someone was in fact threatening me.

You know, said a voice within me.

I don’t believe it, I answered myself. He couldn’t. I know he has killed many times. He has taken what he wanted … always. Oh, no, it can’t be.

But why not, if he no longer wanted me? Why not, if I stood between him and something he wanted? Perhaps a young woman who could give him sons.

The door of my room opened suddenly. I knew it was Jake who had come in.

Had he come straight here from the turret? What would he do now?

Could it really be that he wished to be rid of me? Fiercely he had wanted me once; now did he as fiercely want someone else. Jake allowed nothing and no one to stand in the way of his desires. The lives of others, what were they? I kept thinking of Felipe lying dead on the floor of the Hacienda.

Jake had never shown any remorse about killing him.

He was standing by my bed looking down at me. He whispered my name quietly, not roaring it as he did so often.

I did not answer. I could not face him now with these dreadful suspicions in my mind. I could not say to him, “Jake, are you going to kill me?”

I was afraid.

So I pretended to sleep and after a few minutes he went away.

I went to the apothecary’s shop.

He bowed when he saw me and invited me into the room where the herbs were drying on the oak beams.

“I have found traces of Ergot in your ale,” he said.

“Ergot?”

“It’s a parasite which grows on grass, very often on rye. It contains poisons known as ergotoxine, ergometrine and ergotamine. It is very poisonous.”

“How could it get into the ale?”

“It could be put in.”

“How could it be?”

“The leaves could be boiled and the liquid added. I believe people have died through eating bread which had been made from rye which had this parasite growing on it.”

“I see. Then the ale I brought you was poisoned?”

“It contained Ergot.”

I thanked him and paid him well for his trouble. I intimated that I did not wish him to discuss this matter with anyone at the moment and he tactfully gave me to understand that he realized my wishes and would respect them.

As I walked back to Lyon Court I tried to remember the little I had learned from my grandmother about the things that grew in the fields and which could be used to advantage in cooking.

I remember her saying: “You must know the difference between good and evil. That’s the secret, Catharine. Mushrooms now. There’s many been caught on mushrooms. The most tasty food you could find; but there’s wicked growth that masquerades as good in the fields as there is with people. And you must not be deceived by looks. There’s Fly Agaric, which looked wicked enough; there’s stinking Hellebore, which would drive you off with its smell; but the Death Cap toadstool and the Destroying Angel are white and innocent-looking as any good mushroom.”

I had been amused by the names of Death Cap and Destroying Angel and also my grandmother’s earnestness. Perhaps that was why I had remembered.

Someone had put a Death Cap or Destroying Angel into my soup. Someone had put Ergot into my ale. A long time ago someone had sent me to Mary Lee’s cottage. Someone wanted me dead.

If I was going to save my life I must find out who was my would-be murderer.

I laughed at myself and said: You know.

But I wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe … not then. It was not until later.

How strange it is that one does not see something which concerns one deeply and would be obvious to many. And then suddenly one discovers something which can be linked with other things and the truth is revealed.

I was looking from my window and I saw the three of them by the pond. Romilly, Jake and Penn.

Penn had a model of a ship and he was sailing it on the pond. Jake knelt down beside him and guided the ship. I could see he was pointing out something to Penn.

Romilly stood there, arms folded, the sunlight gleaming on her luxuriant hair; there was something about her which told me. She was complacent, satisfied. And I knew.

Romilly and Jake! He had brought her to this house as a young girl—was she twelve or thirteen? She had not cared when the tutor had been found in Jennet’s bed, for he was nothing to her. She had been ready to marry him, though. Yes, because she knew that she was to bear a child.