A Mortal Bane (8 page)

“Could someone climb the wall?” Sabina asked uncertainly. She had never seen the wall and did not know how high it was.

“Perhaps I could,” Magdalene replied, even more uncertainly. “We could put a table against it and I…but how would I get down on the other side? And how would I get up again? And we certainly could not be climbing the wall during the day….”

“Meanwhile, what do we do with this?” Dulcie asked, removing the pouch from her cleaning supplies.

Magdalene looked at it with loathing, then drew a deep breath. “For now, I will hide it in the same place the dead man put it, only in the empty room. Then we will have to think of some way to be rid of it.”

That was easier said than done, although the urgency of disposing of the pouch diminished throughout the day. By dinnertime, Magdalene was no longer much concerned about Brother Paulinus coming to search. He must have realized, she reasoned, that after his announcement of the murder, they would have looked for and disposed of any evidence they discovered. Nonetheless, the pouch
had
to be found and
must
not be found in their house, so—using obscure terms so that Ella would not understand—they discussed what to do with it, until their clients began to arrive.

Perhaps putting the problem out of their minds while they made merry with their guests did some good, because it was soon after the last client had left them that a solution to the problem was discovered. Letice went to lock the front gate and the front and back doors of the house after Vespers and as she drew the key from the back lock, she looked at it and her mouth opened in a large O. She ran to where Magdalene was lighting torchettes and shook the key in her face.

“Not more trouble.” Magdalene sighed. “The door will not lock?”

Letice shook her head, dragged Magdalene to the front door, unlocked and then relocked it, dragged Magdalene to the back door, unlocked and relocked that, and again shook the key in Magdalene’s face.

“I see you used the key to lock the doors, but—

Letice again shook the key, pointed to the back door, pointed down the hall to the front door, shook the key, and finally held up one finger and shook that in Magdalene’s face. Magdalene frowned. Letice repeated the process. Magdalene’s eyes went wide. Locks were expensive, partly because the locking wards had to be reinvented for each lock. If two locks could be identical and use the same key, the locksmith could charge less, not to mention the convenience of needing fewer keys.

“One key,” she breathed. “One key for both doors.”

Even as she spoke, Letice held up another, even larger key, her eyes wide with hope.

“The key to the front gate! Oh, hurry, Letice. Unlock the door and we will go and try it.”

They were so excited that they nearly stuck in the doorway once the door was opened. Then they rushed down the path, with Dulcie, who had been watching Letice lock and unlock the door, following behind.

“Do it. Do it,” Magdalene urged and then held her breath as Letice inserted the front-gate key into the lock.

It turned with only a little difficulty. The latch clicked as Dulcie lifted it. The gate swung open.

Chapter Four

20 April 1139

St. Mary Overy Church

Although it was not easy, Magdalene waited long enough after Compline for the sky to be completely dark and, she hoped, all the monks to be sound asleep. Then she and Dulcie slipped through the unlocked gate, latching it after them carefully, and around the apse to the north entrance. She shivered as she walked up the stairs, wondering whether the monks had cleaned off the blood. Even if they had not, she told herself, it would be dry now and there would be no danger of carrying a stain if she stepped on it. But it was not that fear that made her shiver, and tears pricked her eyes when she thought of the agreeable man who was now dead.

Before they could even gather in her lids, a new fear sent them back to their source. Had Brother Paulinus ordered that the church itself be locked as well as the gate? She began to think frantically of a new place to hide the pouch concealed under her cloak, perhaps in the graveyard, but Dulcie had lifted the latch and swung the door open a little way before any sensible idea had a chance to form. Apparently the sacristan felt he had shut out the contamination by locking the gate between the Old Priory Guesthouse and the church and had either not dared or not felt the need to lock the church itself.

When Dulcie shut the door, it was much blacker inside than outdoors, where even during the dark of the moon, starlight brightened the sky. Fortunately, once they had moved out into the chancel, the tiny lamp flickering on the altar gave Dulcie a sense of where she was. Taking Magdalene’s hand, she led her down along the wall and stopped. Magdalene assumed they were near the carving of Saint Christopher, but she could not see it at all and she did not dare ask Dulcie. Deaf as she was, the old woman often spoke too loudly. Magdalene reached up and began to feel around.

She soon found the curved stone frame around the carved image, then the head of the figure. Only a little way farther to the right was a smaller head. She slid her hand down, found the Child’s shoulder and, below that, the hollow bordered by His thigh. With her lip tight between her teeth, she pressed the pouch into the opening. She feared for a moment that it would fall all the way down, but it stopped and to her delight, it felt as if a tiny edge protruded from behind the Child’s thigh. If someone looked carefully, it would be found.

The breath Magdalene had been holding eased out and then caught again as light bloomed suddenly behind her. Dulcie tugged urgently at her skirt. Without even turning around, she followed the pull, sidling along the wall into the nave, where she knelt as if in prayer. Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering with fear, she lifted her head.

A robed figure carrying a tallow taper had entered from the south door, which connected through a chapel and a short passage to the monastery. Magdalene clasped her hands and bowed her head, thanking God that they were well away from the Saint Christopher. Even so, if they were found and the pouch was also found in the next day or two, it would not take Brother Paulinus long to put two and two together and insist they had brought the pouch to the church.

The monk did not bother to look down the nave, however. He hurried from the doorway to the center of the chancel and then walked into the apse. When he was close to the altar, he paused and removed from the breast of his robe an object that glittered faintly, which he lifted, admiring it. Magdalene saw that it was a handsome silver candlestick. Then he walked around to the back of the altar, where he knelt.

Magdalene could see nothing more. Mentally, she groaned. If the monk had come to perform a penance, or even to pray over self-perceived sins, they might be there for hours. But he was not praying. In only a few moments the monk reappeared, no longer carrying the candlestick. Relief nearly brought self-betrayal as Magdalene fought not to giggle. Idiot that she was. Plainly, the monk had come to return the candlestick to its storage place under the altar. Even as she thought it, he made his way toward the door, where the light suddenly went out and she heard the soft click of the latch.

Dulcie jumped to her feet and pulled at Magdalene, who had hesitated, breathing a prayer of thanks to the Mother of God. She smiled as she rose, thinking that perhaps being a whore was less offensive to Mary, the only woman who had ever conceived without carnal union with a man, than to her holier-than-thou disciple. Mary knew the heart, and in this case at least, Magdalene knew her heart was pure.

Not long after, the gate relocked behind them, she and Dulcie were safe inside the house. Magdalene was ready to drop and desired only her bed, but Letice and Sabina, who had been waiting anxiously, had to be told what had happened. Letice only signed that she was glad they got away.

Sabina sniffed. “I thought monks were supposed to keep regular hours,” she said, her voice querulous. “It seems to me that they are always walking about, looking for mischief.”

At the time, Magdalene was too tired to want to inquire into what Sabina meant, and she only suggested that everyone go to bed. She got no arguments; the fears and tensions of the day had worn on them all. For herself, Magdalene fell asleep the moment her clothing was off and she crawled into bed. She did not sleep peacefully, however; memories of the dead man, of the sacristan’s threats, and of Sabina’s last remark worked on her.

21 April 1139

The Bishop of Winchester’s House

Magdalene woke the next morning determined to avenge Baldassare de Firenze and prove she and her women were innocent of murder. To take the easiest question first, Magdalene asked Sabina what she had meant by monks wandering about.

“When I went to pray that night,” Sabina said, not identifying the time more closely because Ella was sitting at the edge of the bench occupied by Letice, who was cutting up her food for her, “I heard a monk cry out, ‘Who is there?’ and I had to wait before going into the church. I told you that.”

“Likely you did, love, but all I heard was the bad news. Do you mean some monk was near the door of the north porch when you found it?” Magdalene asked.

“Found what?” Ella asked, sidling up close to Letice as soon as she put down the knife she had been using. “Was it nice?”

“No,” Sabina said, swallowing. “It was not nice at all, which was why I left it there and did not bring it home.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose even if it had been nice, you could not take anything left on the church porch. It would belong to the monks.”

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Magdalene said. “Perhaps what was on the porch did rightfully belong to the monks. Anyway, I think we should try to find out if it was because it
did
belong to the monks that the sacristan tried to put the blame for it on us. Did you recognize the voice, love?”

“Of course, how could I fail?” Sabina replied. “It is one we hear far too often—just who you said, the sacristan.”

“The sacristan was at the door of the north porch that night? But seeing that all are gone is the porter’s duty.”

“Nonetheless, Brother Paulinus was there. I heard him call out, and something fall, and footsteps running away, and then, a little later, the door close.”

Letice tapped her knife hilt on the table. Magdalene turned to look at her. Letice shook her head vigorously, made the signs for hushing and then for forgetting.

“Letice thinks we should stop talking about this and forget the whole thing,” Magdalene said so Sabina would know. Then she sighed. “In a way, I wish we could—that is, I wish it had never happened. Certainly we had nothing to do with it, but I do not think we will be
allowed
to forget it.”

“Were we supposed to remember something?” Ella asked, putting down the piece of cold meat she had been about to put in her mouth and looking distressed.

“No, dearling,” Sabina said. “We are supposed to forget it, so you have done exactly what is right. Pay us no mind.”

When something did stick in Ella’s mind, however, it niggled at her and she would talk about it, so her comment implied a danger. Ordinarily, like a child, she ignored the talk of the other women, which she found dull and incomprehensible. This time something had caught her attention, possibly Sabina’s saying she had found something, and she was listening. With unspoken agreement, talk on the subject of the murder was suspended until breakfast was over. Then, as a treat, Ella was allowed to go with Dulcie to the market.

When she was gone, the other women breathed a sigh of relief. Letice and Magdalene took up their embroidery and Sabina sat beside them, but she did not strike the lute she held in her lap.

“It is wrong!” she said, softly but forcibly. “I liked Messer Baldassare. He was gentle and merry. What happened to him was evil.” Tears oozed out at the corners of her sealed eyes and she raised a hand to wipe them away. “It is not fair that he should not be avenged, and if Brother Paulinus has his way, we will suffer and the true evildoer go scot-free.”

“That is certainly his intention,” Magdalene replied. “Remember he said he would get us hanged. We can swear and swear that Messer Baldassare was never here, but we are whores. Who will believe us? And what if someone in the street saw him ring the bell? Worse, we stood talking for several minutes at the gate before he came in. That could have been noticed, or someone could have seen him leading in his horse. We must do something to save ourselves.”

“The horse coming in is a common enough occurrence,” Sabina said. “William of Ypres and his men always bring their horses, as do some of the North London merchants. None of our neighbors would think someone leading in a horse to be strange enough to mention.”

“Not to mention on their own, but if asked? If Paulinus sends one of the lay brothers to accuse us of murder and to ask if anyone saw the victim with a horse enter our gate?”

Letice sniffed and made an ugly face, poking her finger against her cheeks and forehead.

Magdalene uttered a tired laugh. “A pox on Brother Paulinus.” She sighed. “Oh, how I agree. But I doubt that even a pox could take him swiftly enough to stop him from making trouble for us.”

‘There is another thing,” Sabina said softly. “He also said he had a friend close to the Bishop of Winchester. The bishop will not want to listen to what will cost him our rent, but if the sacristan’s story is supported by someone who saw Messer Baldassare enter here….”

“Oh, heavens,” Magdalene breathed. “That would be fatal—” She stopped abruptly and shuddered. The word might turn out to be literally true. “I must tell the bishop. I must tell him everything—”

Letice jumped from her chair and grabbed Magdalene’s hand, shaking her head furiously and making signs that Magdalene finally figured out referred to the pouch.

“Oh, no,” she agreed. “I will not tell him about the pouch. We must insist that Baldassare took everything with him when he left here and that he did not intend to return.” She stood abruptly. “I should have gone as soon as I wakened. I must not waste any more time. I will go now. Letice, come help me to dress.”