The Westminster Poisoner by Susanna Gregory Page A

then,’ muttered Chaloner, keeping the sword where it was until he had reached down to
     grab the wig. It squeaked as he picked it up. Then it bit him. With a yelp of his own, he dropped it, and it was off again,
     skittering towards the window.
    ‘It has teeth,’ wailed Haddon, clutching the Earl so hard that he threatened to have them both on the floor. ‘It is truly
     a demon sent by the Devil!’
    The Earl closed his eyes and intoned a prayer of deliver ance. ‘Stab it again, Thomas,’ he ordered. ‘But without spoiling
     the wig, if you please. Then you can stay here and guard it, while Haddon and I fetch a priest. We shall have to exorcise
     this vile fiend, since it seems determined to do violence.’
    Flexing his smarting hand, Chaloner went after the wig, which sensed him coming and began to move faster still. It shot under
     a chest, and emerged at high speed through the other side. Then it whipped across the floor, aiming for the door and the freedom
     beyond. Chaloner slammed the door shut before it could effect its escape, ignoring the Earl’s furious reprimands for not letting
     it become someone else’s problem. Eventually, he managed to pin it down on one of the Turkish carpets. When he picked it up
     a second time, he was rather more careful.
    ‘A ferret,’ he said, examining the wriggling creature within. ‘I thought it would be a rat.’
    The Earl peered at it, still holding on to Haddon. His expression was already turning from fearful to indignant. ‘A ferret?
     You mean an animal dares to make its nest inside my favourite headpiece?’
    ‘It is tied there,’ explained Chaloner, using his dagger to cut through the knots. The little creature was incensed by its
     rough treatment, and squirmed vigorously, making his task more difficult. ‘I imagine this comes courtesy of the Lord of Misrule.’
    ‘A trick?’ demanded the Earl, anger growing. ‘I have been driven on top of my desk by a
trick
?’
    Haddon climbed off his chair, his lips tight with fury. ‘I fail to see the humour in torturing an animal. It is a despicable
     thing to do, and they should be ashamed of themselves. Have they hurt it?’
    Chaloner shook his head. ‘It is just frightened – but not nearly as much as you two were.’
    The Earl glared at him. ‘This situation is
not
amusing. And if you tell another living soul about this, I shall … I do not know what I shall do, but suffice to say
     I shall not be pleased.’
    Chaloner held the ferret by the scruff of the neck, so it could neither bite him nor escape. Haddon took it from him, and
     began to soothe it by rubbing the soft fur on its head. Beady eyes regarded him crossly at first, but then it snuggled into
     the crook of his arm.
    ‘It is tame,’ the steward said, touched. ‘It will be someone’s companion. Poor thing!’
    ‘I will take it to St James’s Park and release it,’ offered Chaloner. ‘It will—’
    ‘No!’ cried Haddon, cradling the animal protectively. ‘You will not! A dog or a fox will have it. It probably belongs to one
     of the kitchen boys, who will be heartbroken to find it missing.’
    ‘Go and find him, then,’ said the Earl tiredly. ‘There is no need for a child to suffer, just because the Lord of Misrule
     – whom I suspect is that vile Chiffinch – sees fitto mock his Lord Chancellor. We shall put it about that his trick was discovered
before
my periwig started racing about the floor. I do not want him to know it worked, because he might try it again with something
     larger.’
    Haddon covered the ferret with his hat, to protect it from the cold, and went to do as he was told. Uncomfortable with the
     notion that someone had entered the offices illicitly, Chaloner searched them, to ensure no other pranks were waiting to unfold.
     The Earl watched uneasily, and only relaxed when his spy assured him that all was in order.
    ‘I have had a terrible day,’ he said mournfully, flopping into a chair and mopping his brow with a