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“First, what’s yer name, lass?”
“Lass? I don’t think I’ve been a lass for about twenty years now.”
Fin shook his head as he laughed and rubbed his face with his hands. This interrogation was not going how he had envisioned it when he was trying to formulate a strategy earlier.
“To answer your question though, my name is Margaret,” she said. “Margaret Werther. And you will have to forgive me for talkin’ your ear off. I don’t get many visitors here.”
“Nae a problem, Margaret,” he said. “I wanted tae know, though, what ye know about monkshood.”
“Monkshood?” she asked. “I know it’s not something you should be toying with.”
“Aye,” Fin agreed. “But dae ye stock it here?”
“I do. A little bit anyway,” she said. “It has some medicinal uses. When used correctly, it can help alleviate some common pains and ailments.”
“And also as a poison.”
She nodded. “It can be used like that as well.”
“Have ye sold any monkshood recently?”
A small smile touched her lips. “Does this have anything to do with the Duke being poisoned? I know they were trying to keep it quiet, but people talk — especially the Duke’s household staff. Bunch of clucking hens, them,” she stated. “Word of advice, if there is something you don’t want getting out to the public, don’t say it within the walls of the keep.”
Fin hesitated but figured that since she knew about it already, there was no harm in telling her. Besides, he didn’t get the sense that the woman was involved. The more he talked to her, the more she didn’t seem the type to him. But he was still wary, knowing that he was so new to being any sort of investigator that he could not trust his own feelings.
That bothered him more than anything - not being able to trust his own instincts. His instincts had carried him through many difficult spots and had saved his life on many occasions throughout his life. So now, knowing that his instincts could be off and that he could not fully trust them was frustrating.
“Appreciate the advice,” Fin said. “Tis good tae know.”
“To answer your question though, I haven’t sold any monkshood recently,” she said. “Except for the monkshood that is part of my normal tinctures.”
Fin nodded. It seemed reasonable to him. But it was also the sort of answer he would have expected from somebody who was involved. And yet he could not shake the feeling that Margaret was telling him the truth.
“What makes you think it was monkshood?” she asked. “There are dozens of plants I can conjure off the top of my head that could be used as a poison.”
“Thae physicians found monkshood residue in the wine cup.”
She nodded, and a shadow passed across her eyes. Fin could see she was nervous, and it made him curious.
“Dae ye know somethin’ about this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I swear it.”
“Then why dae ye look so nervous?”
She let out a quiet breath and turned to him. “Because the last time somebody important was poisoned, the women with knowledge of roots and herbs were hunted down,” she said with a strong hint of bitterness in her voice. “They were burned at the stake as witches. But our only crime is to have a knowledge and understanding of the natural world. That does not make us enchantresses or sorceresses.”
“Nay,” Fin said softly. “It doesnae. Me own mother was like ye. She knew everythin’ there was tae know about roots and herbs.”
“Was she also burned?”
Fin shook his head. “Nay. We respect women like ye in th’ north,” he said. “We ken that women like ye keep us healthy and alive.”
“If only everybody were so enlightened.”
“Are there any other apothecaries in town?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Anybody else who might deal in monkshood?”
“Well, to be honest, monkshood grows wild so anybody can get their hands on it,” she said. “There’s a small bush of it out on the edge of the lake. It’s where I get mine.”
