The Poisoner

The Poisoner
The year is 1442. Europe is recovering from the worst plague ever recorded, thanks to Prot Causteau, a scientist who found the cure and became immensely rich and famous as a result. 25 million people in Europe died and many more would have if it weren’t for the genius of Prot. Hailed as a hero, the King dedicated a holiday in his name and many came to pay homage at his castle in Stoke-on-Trent, England. Even the conservative religious of the time were considering making him a saint; in their eyes he could do no wrong. From all appearances Prot seemed to lead an idealic life, bringing joy to those lucky enough to have his time; he had all he ever dreamed of, so it was a shock to his one and only sibling, Gareth, to receive a note one dark and stormy night requesting his presence at his brothers castle on pain of death.
Gareth sped on his fastest steed the 5 miles to Prot’s castle. He was met at the door by Plymouth, Prot’s trusted butler. ‘Thank God you came sir, it is master Prot…come you will see.’ Gareth was led quickly to Prot’s bedroom which was full of maids and friends. Prot lay pale-faced and in agony with a doctor examining him head to foot. When he saw Gareth he managed a tortured smile. ‘At last, my brother you have come, my only living flesh and blood, I have much I want to say to you before the night has ended.’ The doctor, a family acquaintance, spoke: ‘Gareth, I need to speak with you alone.’ Gareth was still reeling in shock at his brother’s condition. ‘Yes in a minute. Wait for me in the corridor.’ The doctor obliged. Gareth leaned down to his brother with tears in his eyes. ‘Prot, how could this happen? You, who have saved so many souls from their hour, are now encumbered with their own fate, what treachery is this? You are of good stature, why only last week we were riding together in the fox hunt? What new virus is this that can seek to undermine all you have worked for?’ ‘Brother, soon all will be revealed, but for now I wish to rest. Fetch me another blanket; I assume you want to talk with the doctor. I will still be here.’ Prot closed his eyes. His breath was short and harsh.’ Gareth couldn’t bear to see his brother so tortured. He lay a blanket over Prot before kissing him on the forehead. ‘The lord watch over you, my brother.’
Gareth met the doctor in the corridor. ‘Tell me everything, now is not the time for pleasantries.’ ‘Very well Gareth, I have known your family for many…’ ‘GET TO THE POINT!’ Gareth half-yelled, getting frustrated. ‘…If you will allow me to continue… At first I thought it might be something hereditary as your parents passed suddenly, but upon examination of his environment I found this.’ He pulled from his pockets an empty bottle. ‘There is no odour, just an empty bottle. His symptoms match no virus I have encountered in my 30 years as a physician. He has always lived a healthy lifestyle, all his vital organs are in top condition, I cannot work out what has befallen him. After questioning him he asked to see you and said all will be explained. Perhaps you can get to the bottom of this and maybe it has to do with this bottle here.’ ‘OK I will speak with him.’ ‘With great urgency, time may be running out…’
Gareth slipped quietly back into Prot’s room trying not to wake him. But Prot’s left eye opened and he said ‘You wouldn’t make a very good thief.’ ‘I have never needed to steal, I have always had what I wanted.’ ‘You have. And that’s why I have called you here tonight, on this fateful night, thankfully my last. For this earth, this life I am no longer bound, I can no longer lie and face those not even naive. But I need to speak with you one last time in a last ditch effort to set myself free. Come closer Gareth and I will tell you what you may never have wanted to hear. Gareth leaned closer to his brother.
‘Do you know what day it is today?’ Prot questioned. ‘Friday, I believe.’ Ignoring Gareth’s answer Prot continued. ‘It is exactly 30 years to the day that I discovered the cure for the bubonic plague and my life hasn’t been the same since. All the world is grateful to me, I am hailed as a hero of science, people look to me as their personal saviour, I am revered wherever I go. Often I thought to myself – if only they knew the truth then what a Judas I’d become, cast out, likely to die alone. If only they knew what it was I was doing those long nights spent in my laboratory.’ ‘You were hunting for the cure for which you are famous for....’ Gareth said not liking what he was hearing. ‘Alas, if only it was true I could rest easier. No, my brother those nights were not in a benevolent search but were fuelled by jealousy and hatred for it wasn’t an answer to the world’s ills I was calculating but an end to my own personal rage. A rage I had felt ever since I was young. My brother, I was searching for the perfect poison with which to kill you.’ Gareth’s mind exploded, he was dumbstruck. After moments of silence tears began to roll down Gareth’s cheeks. ‘You wanted to kill me? My only brother?’ ‘Yes. It was during the synthesising of the poison that I accidentally came upon the cure for the plague. The next day I was famous and with all that went with it, my hate was somewhat alleviated, but definitely not extinguished, so I put the idea to one side.’ ‘But why?’ Gareth pleaded, ‘I have always looked up to you and thought only the best for you…’ ‘That’s just it isn’t it, you have a rosy view of the world where everybody is good and flowers and daisies and so forth, you need to wake up, perhaps that will be my legacy to you.’ ‘But I don’t understand, what did I ever do to deserve your anger?’ ‘Well it goes back to the moment you were born. I was the centre of attention up til you came into the world. Our parents lavished all their affection upon me. When you were born I lost their love and never felt complete again. It is true I hate you with a passion and yet I know you look up to me as a little brother does, you seek my approval; but you shall never have it. For taking away the one thing that was dear to me, in death, I will take from you what you cherish - my life. You will learn to hate me and eventually be grateful for that. With the same poison I intended to kill you with, my life is forfeit…’ Prot let out a deathly gasp closed his eyes, and then opened them to whisper ‘I couldn’t have killed you, this way you feel pain, and it doesn’t go away – so long little brother.’ ‘No.’ Gareth cried out beating the corpse of his dead brother.
Plymouth entered the room. Gareth recovered himself and spoke ‘Make sure he is cremated, send word to the King, and…gather together the town criers from the surrounding districts…I have something they should know…’