The Confession...

In the name of God Amen. I Eva Blackthorn, wife to no man, being at this time neither sick of body nor unsound in mind, do declare that I am the murderer of Lady Sybil Harcup, wife to Sir Andrew Harcup.

Wait, please somebody. Sir Andrew, please, listen to me. I am not a murderer. I am a healer, a herbalist. You have all been in need of my skills before this day. You know that I speak the truth. I would never harm a patient, let alone a friend.

On the ninth day of the month of October in the year of our Lord eleven hundred and ninety five, in the sixth year of the reign of King Richard, the first of that name, Lady Sybil Harcup lay dead of a death other than her rightful death at mine own hand.

No not at my hand. Please, please just listen. There has been some kind of dreadful mistake. Why would I want to kill her? She was my friend and my patron. I could never use my knowledge to harm another. Sir Andrew please, you know me well, speak for me. You know that I was friends with your wife, that we shared confidences. How could I ever harm her?

I did purposefully bring pennyroyal with me when requested by Lady Sybil to attend her in the solar. This poison I did then knowingly place within her goblet with the intent to kill Lady Sybil’s unborn child.

Pennyroyal? Is that what killed her? Do you think that I am such an incapable healer that I would prescribe a pregnant woman pennyroyal? Yes, that is one of my phials. Yes, that is my hand on the label. Yes, I am quite sure. No wait, please, Sir Andrew, that is not what I meant. Why would I have given it to her purposefully? What ill-feeling could I harbour against the infant?

The aforesaid poison aborted the infant and caused heavy bleeding that ultimately led to the death of Lady Sybil.

You, you Sir Andrew came to me some days ago asking for relief from indigestion. Too much rich food from the previous nights feast you said. I gave you an infusion of pennyroyal there and then. But you asked for more to take back with you. I gave you a phial. Sir Andrew, please, I beg you sir, tell them I speak the truth. No, no, no. Don’t do this. I did nothing wrong. Let me go, please, let me go.

I do confess and thoroughly repent my crime and hereby submit my body for lawful punishment, whilst entreating my soul to God’s forgiveness, as witnessed by Sir Andrew Harcup, Brother John, Henry of Hailes, Thomas fitzMiles, Stephen de Rouen.

It is so dark and cold down here. Why will no one help me? I am innocent. I am no murderer. I did not commit this dark deed. But they shall hang me on the morrow regardless of what I say. Why will no one listen? It is all too neat. It is all too resolved. Surely they can see where the blame truly lies? He who hangs me be the real murderer.