“Let me see your letter,” he demanded. Unlike the sergeant, the dwarf could read, and he quickly took in the contents.
“The Lord Mayor’s writ doesn’t run to the Castle,” he said with a sly smile. “You’ll need a letter from the Marquess of Newcastle himself. He commands the garrison and the Castle.” He knew, of course, that Newcastle had more on his mind than a local murderess and it would take days or even weeks to obtain such a letter. On the other hand, I also knew that he wanted a bribe, not a nobleman’s signature.
“How are the rations they give you these days?” I asked, knowing full well that a dwarf-jailor might receive only bread and gruel for his daily meal.
“I’ve done better,” he said. “What concern is it of yours? You need to worry about getting a letter from the Marquess.”
“I ask because I’ve got a lovely ham that you might like.” He looked eagerly at Martha’s basket. I reached in and removed the ham. It was as large as the dwarf’s head. He eyed it lovingly. “As it happens, I also have a pot of ale that would accompany it quite nicely. But only if you honor the letter and take us to the prisoner.”
He nodded, took the food, and scurried into a nearby room to put it up. When he returned he led us down a set of steps to a cell that was partially underground. It was said that when the Ouse flooded, prisoners would sometimes drown in their cells, and I wondered how many men had died in Esther’s cell. The dwarf opened the door and allowed us to enter.
“I’ll be at the top of the stairs. Knock when you’re done.” We entered Esther’s cell and he locked the door behind us.
Esther Cooper wore a gray skirt and bodice, an outfit appropriate for a woman of much lower rank and one that even Martha would hesitate to wear. She turned when we entered and a wan smile crossed her face. “I was worried the Lord Mayor would send some old crone to do his bidding,” she said as she walked over to embrace me.
I looked around the cell. A thin sunbeam came through a narrow window high on one wall. The moat was out of sight, but the smell wafted through the window, giving everything the odor of death and decay. The only piece of furniture was a rough wooden bed with a straw mattress and moth-eaten wool blanket on it. Dirty rushes covered the floor. The comfort of a murderess was of little concern to the warden, no matter her rank.
“I’m here for the city,” I said. “I’ve been sent to examine you.”
A look of puzzlement crossed her face at my deliberate formality. “Lady Bridget—,” she started.
“If you are going to avoid execution in the morning, I have to certify to the Lord Mayor that you are with child.” She nodded, still confused by my tone. I inclined my head to the door and raised an eyebrow. The dwarf said he would wait upstairs, but I worried that he could eavesdrop on our meeting.
She gazed at the door for a moment before realizing what I meant. “Yes, of course.”
“How long has it been since your monthly courses?” I asked.
“Ten weeks,” Esther said. “And as you well know, I did lie with my husband before they stopped.”
“I need to examine your breasts,” I said. She nodded and without a trace of embarrassment unlaced her bodice. I looked closely at her nipples before cupping her breasts and squeezing them gently. As she retied her bodice, I reached into my valise for a small glass, which I handed to Esther.
“Make water in this if you can,” I told her. She slipped the glass under her skirts. After, she handed it back, and I dropped a needle in the glass and held it up to the window. The light could have been better, but it was good enough. After I poured the glass into her chamber pot, I saw that Martha had removed a small mirror from my valise and gone to the cell door. She put the mirror through the window, gazing into it as she moved it back and forth. She nodded to herself and turned back to me.
“He’s gone,” she said. I looked at her a bit longer, wondering where she had learned such a trick. Before I could ask, Esther spoke.
“Thank God you came,” she said. “You do believe that I am innocent, don’t you?”
“Tell me what happened.”
Esther looked sad, but not surprised. “I suppose even you must have your suspicions.”
“The evidence against you seems thin,” I said. “But I do not want to judge your case too hastily. I want to hear from you.”
“Yes, I suppose I owe you that,” she said. “Since coming to the Castle, I have had a lot of time to think about my husband’s murder. Does it strike you as odd that whoever poisoned my husband nearly escaped undetected?”