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“Tell me, what dae ye know about monkshood?” Fin asked.
“Other than to say, I know it isn’t a plant that can be used in cooking, not much I fear. My expertise is in baking and running an organized, disciplined kitchen,” he replied. “But there is an apothecary in the village outside the castle walls you can speak with. She will know far more than I.”
Fin nodded. “I’ll dae that.”
He studied Mr. White for a moment longer. He seemed an honest and forthright man. But did that mean he was not a man capable of slipping a dose of poison into the Duke’s wine? Or ordering somebody else to do it? Fin wasn’t sure, and though he did not detect any sort of deception, Mr. White would bear further scrutiny. But he wanted to question the cupbearer next as this Marcus had the most direct line to the Duke’s wine.
“Thank ye,” Fin said. “I’ll go’n find Marcus now.”
As Fin marched through the kitchen, Hollis fell into step beside him, munching on what looked like a sweet cake. Crumbs were stuck in the man’s beard, and Fin just shook his head.
“Get yer fill did ye?” he asked.
Hollis shrugged. “Nay. Ye werenae gone long ‘nough for that,” he said. “But it’ll tide me over for now.”
The doors groaned, and the hinges squealed as they pushed through the doors and stepped into the grand hall. A young man of about eighteen or nineteen years was standing at the far end of the table and looked up as they approached, a nervous tremor passing across his face.
Marcus was older than Fin had expected but still had a youthful air about him. He was tall and thin with narrow shoulders, long arms, and long, spindly fingers. He had dark eyes, a mop of shaggy, dark hair, and pale skin. He was antsy and shifted from foot to foot, doing his best to avoid looking at Fin, which put him on edge immediately.
Fin stopped in front of Marcus and looked up him up and down, sizing him up. Hollis stood behind Fin, his arms folded over his chest, a fearsome look on his face, doing his best to silently intimidate the cupbearer.
“Are ye Marcus Long?” Fin asked.
“Y - yes, sir,” he replied.
Fin narrowed his eyes and glared at him and took a step back. He looked nervous as if he was going to bolt from the hall.
“Little old tae be a cupbearer, are yet not?” Fin asked.
Marcus shrugged. “I used to work in the smithy with my father, sir,” he said. “But I am not cut out for that sort of work. I’m not strong enough, I fear.”
Fin looked him up and down for a moment and nodded. He could see that. Smiths were big, brawny men, and Marcus was definitely not that. He probably was better suited to working in the household.
“And how long’ve ye been workin’ in the Duke’s house?”
“I’ve been a cupbearer for several months now, sir,” he replied.
Better suited to be working in the house than the smithy or not, it seemed to Fin that it was a mighty big coincidence that shortly after Marcus started to work as a cupbearer, the Duke winds up poisoned. Fin had never been big on believing in coincidences. He didn’t think there was much that could not be explained by a more rational reason.
He looked at Marcus closely and could see how twitchy the younger man was. He looked like a rabbit staring up at a hungry hawk that was circling above him. Fin thought the best approach would be straight forward and blunt. He thought he could rattle Marcus enough that he would trip over a lie and unintentionally reveal something to him...
“What dae ye know ‘bout what ‘appened tae the Duke?” Fin asked.
“I - I do not know anything, sir,” he replied.
The young man looked ready to cry or run. Sweat beaded on his brow, and Fin thought he looked more nervous than he should have if he had nothing to do with the Duke’s poisoning.
“Are ya sure ‘bout that?” Fin asked.
“Y - yes, sir,” he stammered. “Very sure.”
Fin wasn’t so sure about it, though. He knew he could be imposing and intimidating. He had scared more than a few lads in his day with nothing more than a hard gaze. But there was something about the kid’s behavior that wasn’t ringing true to him. He was too nervous, and it made Fin think he was hiding something.
“Did ye dae it?” Fin asked. “Did ye poison the Duke?”
“No, sir,” Marcus said. “I told you, I had nothing--”
“Aye. I ken that’s what ye told me,” Fin cut him off. “But I ken ye know somethin’ ‘bout it. I can see it in yer eyes, boy.”
