“What is the meaning of all this?” Eirik exclaimed. “I must be off with Sigurd and Tykir to capture Gravely. Why do you waste my time with animal remains? And why are they out here and not in the midden?” He wrinkled his nose with distaste.
” ‘Tis a clue,” Wilfrid announced, grinning with self-satisfaction.
“Have you lost your senses like everyone else in this keep? What kind of clue?”
“A clue to Lady Eadyth and Britta’s plot.”
Eirik put his hands on his hips and glared at his seneschal, tapping his foot testily.
“Do you not see? They have been hiding the bones in here for some devious purpose. Methinks it has something to do with Godfic.”
“Methinks you were knocked on the head this mom. Me-thinks ’tis more likely these are the secret ingredients in Eadyth’s mead.”
Wilfrid’s eyes widened with wonder. “Do you really think so?”
“Nay, you lackwit, I do not think so. Get Britta and bring her here at once. I have had more than enough of all this nonsense. I will have answers and I will have them now.”
A short time later, a clearly frightened Britta stood before them in the shed. Her red hair stood out in disarray, and her apron hung askew, as if she had hurried, or was flustered.
“I will give you an opportunity to answer my questions, Britta,” Eirik said tautly. “One lie… one lie only… and you will be banished from Ravenshire. And do not be thinking your mistress will help you, because she may very well be traveling the road with you.”
Britta looked toward Wilfrid for help, but his arms were crossed over his chest. He scowled down at her, refusing to come to her aid. “Tell the truth, Britta,” Wilfrid said stonily, “for if you are banished, I will not be able to come with you, or after you.”
Her eyes darted forlornly around the shed, like a trapped rabbit.
“Why have you and Eadyth been collecting these bones?” Eirik asked, ripping the words out impatiently.
The maid inhaled deeply for courage, then exhaled loudly with resignation. “So she and John can die,” Britta confessed in a voice barely above a whisper.
Eirik’s mouth dropped open, and Wilfrid’s eyes almost popped from his head.
“Die? Die?” Eirik grabbed Britta by the forearms and shook her. “Stop blathering your foolish words. Why are these bones here?”
“I told you,” Britta said through chattering teeth. “The mistress needs to pretend that she and John have been killed by wild wolves, and these bones were going to be the evidence. Oh, Blessed Mary, now Godric will die. And you, too, Lord Eirik.” She threw herself into the anus of a stunned Wilfrid, wailing loudly about poisons and drownings and human heads.
When Britta settled down a bit, they all sat on a nearby bench. Eirik forced Britta to disclose everything. After her lengthy, incredible story, Eirik stood abruptly, rigid with rage. “She thought to fool me with cow bones and pig eyeballs?” he asked incredUlously. “Does she think my vision is that poor, my brain that dull?”
“Oh, nay, master, we were going to mangle them a bit. Once we crushed the bones a few times with a hammer, you would not be able to tell…” Her words trailed off when she heard his quick intake of breath. He gave her a sidelong look of utter disbelief.
“Britta, how could you?” Wilfrid sputtered out. “I trusted you. I asked you to be my wife. How could you?”
She began to wail again.
“And where was she going?” Eirik asked icily, spacing his words evenly.
“Normandy.”
Eirik clenched, his jaw.
“My lady’s missive to her agent—the one with her orders for supplies—also had instructions for booking passage for her and John.”
“And how did she intend to live?”
“Bees,” Britta offered weakly. “She was taking a small hive with her to start a new colony.”
Eirik rolled his eyes heavenward. “One last thing. Where is the poison Steven gave her to use on me?”
Britta looked uncertain. ” ‘Twas hidden above the door jamb in your bedchamber, out of the children’s reach, but the mistress may have thrown it away by now. Oh, master, you never thought that she would actually use it on you, did you?”