The Gallows Curse

    
Cast
of Characters

    
Narrator

    
Yadua
— the mandrake

    
City of Lincoln, England

    
Gunilda
— a healer

    
Warren
— a Norman nobleman

    
The Village of Gastmere, Norfolk

    
Raffaele/Raffe
— Gerard's steward and friend

    
Gerard
of Gastmere
- lord of the manor

    
Lady
Anne
— Gerard's widowed mother

    
Hilda
— an embittered old widow and Lady Anne's maid

    
Walter
— manor gatekeeper

    
Elena
— a fifteen-year-old villein working as a field

    hand
at the manor

    
Cecily
— Elena's mother

    
Athan
— Elena's seventeen-year-old lover

    
Joan
- Athan's mother

    
Marion
— leader of the field hands

    
Gytha
— a cunning woman

    
Madron
— Gytha's blind mother

    
Osborn
of Roxham -
Gerard's former commander in battle

    
Hugh
— Osborn's younger brother

    
Raoul
- a member of Osborn's retinue

    
City of Norwich, England

    
Mother
Margot/Ma
- owner of the house

    
Talbot
— gatekeeper

    
Luce
- a prostitute

    
Finch
— a small boy

    
Town of Yarmouth,
England

    
Martin
— a French visitor

    
City of Acre, Holy Land

    
Ayaz
— a Saracen merchant

    'I
need poison . . . now . . . this very night. Poison that will kill a man for
certain, but not too quickly; I can't risk being discovered with him when he
dies.' The stranger hesitated. 'It must appear a natural death . . . one
that'll arouse no suspicions when the corpse is discovered.'

    'But
why come to me?' Gunilda protested.

    'I
was told that if there is anyone in Lincoln, indeed in the whole kingdom, who
has the skill to conjure such a substance, it's you.' The man reached across
and grasped the edge of Gunilda's skirt, tugging it like a wheedling child.
'There's no one else I can turn to . . . help me, in your mercy ... I beg of
you.'

    In
the dim mustard light of the guttering tallow candle, Gunilda could see little
of the man's expression, but she could hear the desperation in his voice. When
a stranger comes knocking at the door of your cottage at the darkest hour of
night, you can be certain it is not a cure for warts he's seeking.

    The
man leaned forward, lowering his voice still further. "Your knowledge is
valuable and the ingredients costly, I've no doubt.' He spread his hands wide.
'I'm a poor man, as you can see. I can't pay in coin. But I do have something
that might interest a woman like you, something so rare and precious it is
beyond price.'

    He
reached into the leather scrip hanging from his belt and pulled out a packet
the size of his hand, bundled in rags. He began to unwrap it, but Gunilda caught
his wrist to stop him.

    'Have
you any idea what you're asking? I'm not going to help you to kill a man. I
don't know what tattle you've been listening to, but I'm a healer, not a
murderer. If you've some quarrel to settle, go to any of the alehouses and inns
down at the quayside. You'll find a score of men hanging around those places
only too eager to slit a man's throat or bludgeon him over the head for nothing
more than the price of a flagon of ale.'

    The
stranger shook his head. 'Don't think I haven't considered that, but this man
is a Norman knight, well guarded. He doesn't roam the streets alone.'

    Gunilda
snorted. 'And you think that's going to convince me to help you, do you? You're
not merely asking me to murder some old midden-grubber or ship's rat. No, you
want me to slaughter a Norman, and a nobleman no less. You're not just
moon-touched; you're a gibbering cod-wit. I think you'd better leave now,
before you put us both on the gallows for even talking about it.'

    But
her visitor made no attempt to rise. He leaned forward on the low stool, his
face masked by the shadows from the bunches of herbs swinging above his head.

    You
don't understand. The man I want to kill is the man who raped my daughter.
She's not yet twelve years old. He hurt her, and she's beside herself with
terror that he'll return. I can't accuse him without for ever defiling her
reputation and besides, who would take notice of a poor man like me? If I
brought such an accusation against a nobleman, he'd only deny it and the
sheriff would believe him. Even if he didn't, what could the sheriff do? Fine
him, if that, and then he'd be free to take his revenge on me and, worse still,
on her. My child will never be able to sleep without fear until that monster is
dead, and he deserves to die for what he's done.'

    Gunilda
glanced behind her at the small figure of her own daughter curled up asleep
under a heap of rags. She was the same age as this man's child. If a man ever
touched her daughter, she'd rip his throat out with her own teeth. Any louse
who forced himself upon a child deserved more than mere poison.

    The
man had followed her gaze. 'For my daughter,' he begged.

    He
continued to unwrap the small package and this time Gunilda made no move to
stop him. She gasped when she saw what lay inside.

    'Can
it be ... is it genuine?'

    But
she didn't need him to answer that question for as soon as she took it in her
bare hands she could feel it stirring to life. It was a black and twisted
thing, a shrivelled root, shaped like a human with a body, two arms, two legs
and a face as wrinkled as time itself. A mandrake! A genuine mandrake and here
in her own hands. He was right; it was a creature beyond price.

    'How
did you come by this?'

    'I...
acquired it in the Holy Land, when I fought for the Cross.'

    Gunilda
knew that some blood-soaked tale must lurk behind that careful word
acquired,
but she didn't press him. There are some answers no one wants to
utter or hear.

    The
stranger was watching her intently. 'So you will give me the poison . . . for
the mandrake?'

    Gunilda
hesitated. It wouldn't be the first time she'd helped a man to die, though
mostly it was some poor soul who, racked with pain or misery beyond enduring,
begged her to help them speed their passing. They all came to her, those who
could not afford the exorbitant fees of the apothecaries and physicians. She
was well loved for her cures, and feared for her curses. But, though the
physicians ranted against her, she did only good to the innocent and harm to
the evil, so she was mostly left in peace.

    Finally
she rose. What he's done to your daughter he'll doubtless do to others. For
their sakes — to prevent a greater evil — I'll give you what you need.'

    Before
the Nocturn bell had finished sounding from the priory, the stranger had
slipped out into the stinking alley, a phial of poison safely lodged in his
scrip where the mandrake had nestled.

    Gunilda
sat in front of the fire cradling the tiny creature in her hands, feeling the
flutter of life beneath her fingers, the throbbing power rising up through her
hands.