The Poisoned Serpent by Joan Wolf

his teeth and prepared to endure.
     
    Towards dawn the pain let up, and Hugh fell into an exhausted sleep. He awoke hours later, shivering and stiff with cold, but his head was clear. The window shutters were closed and locked, and his bedroom was dark. The room smelled of vomit.
    Hugh got out of bed and went to the window to open the shutters. It was sunny outside, midmorning, and the breeze that streamed in through the open window was warmer and cleaner than the reeking frigid air in the bedroom.
    Hugh stood for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, slowly, he turned and looked at the small room revealed by the streaming sunlight.
    His old bedroom. His one-time refuge.
    He remembered the first night he had spent in this house. He remembered how Adela had tucked him into this very bed and bent to kiss him good-night.
    Never fret, my lamb. I won’t let any more harm befall you .
    He could almost hear her voice echoing in the emptiness of the room.
    Moving stiffly from the cold, Hugh went out onto the landing. For a long moment, he stood in front of the closed door that was next to his. Then, with a movement that was almost violent, he shoved it open.
    The shutters were closed in here, too, the only lightbeing that which seeped in between the shutters and the window.
    For a long moment, Hugh looked at the big bed that Ralf and Adela had shared and in which Adela had died.
    Then he shut the door and almost ran down the stairs.
    The solar was much smaller than the one in Gervase’s house. There was no fireplace, only a central hearth with smoke holes along the top of the wall.
    Three chairs were arranged around the hearth. After Adela had died, Hugh and Ralf had left her chair in its usual place.
    Slowly Hugh walked to the hearth and sat in the chair that once had belonged to Ralf. He ran his hands up and down the wooden arms. He shut his eyes, as if trying to feel his foster father’s presence.
    He heard Ralf’s voice inside his head, heard him saying the words he had so often tried to impress upon Hugh.
    Patience, son. That is your one great flaw—you have no patience. Not everyone is as clever as you are. You must give people time to find their own way to the conclusion you have already reached .
    The room was bitterly cold and chillingly empty. Adela and Ralf were gone.
    Hugh bent his head and cried.
     
    That same morning, Lady Elizabeth de Beauté went, as usual, to the ten o’clock mass in the Minster. As she was returning to the castle to break her fast, she and Lady Sybil were intercepted by Richard Canville.
    “Lady Elizabeth,” the young knight said with a courteous bow. “Lady Sybil. Have you been to mass? May I escort you back to the castle?”
    “Thank you, Sir Richard,” Lady Sybil said. “That is kind of you.”
    Richard fell into step with the two women as they continued to walk across the Bail. Several men of the castle guard rode past them. They saluted Richard and looked surreptitiously at Elizabeth, who appeared not to notice.
    “So, my lady,” Richard said to Elizabeth after the men had ridden by, “did you finally get to meet Lincoln’s most famous foundling?” There was a trace of amusement in his voice.
    Elizabeth glanced up at Richard, who topped her by a full head. “That I did, Sir Richard,” she replied demurely. “He came to call upon me yesterday afternoon.”
    “He is certainly a good-looking young man,” Lady Sybil said.
    “Hugh is magnificent,” Richard agreed amiably. “And he is smart as well.”
    “My,” said Elizabeth sweetly. “You are making me sorry that I am not going to marry him after all.”
    Richard replied with good humor. “You and Hugh would not deal well, my lady. For all his gifts, Hugh has an icicle where his heart should be.”
    “Do you think I need a man who is…ah…warmer?” Elizabeth asked innocently.
    Lady Sybil frowned.
    “I’m quite sure you do,” Richard replied softly.
    A small smile curled the corners of Elizabeth’s mouth.
    “Lady