Bone of Contention (2 page)

“Lord William told you to live here and deal with my clients?” She curved her lips into the travesty of a smile. “But surely that would not do your reputation any good, Father Etienne. News of your employment—and no doubt speculation as to how you were being paid—would soon enough come to the bishop of Winchester, who owns this house, and—”

“No, no. I did not plan to live here. As you know Lord William has a lodging on the grounds of the White Tower. I will live there.”

“Then how can you oversee my household? Clients come at all hours, although most have fixed appointments.” She waved at the empty room. “All my women are now at work, but as you saw I came to answer the bell. Do you intend to answer the bell and invite men in? to ask which whore they have come to see? or, if they have no preference, suggest which of the women would be most satisfactory and then make light conversation while the client waits…” Her fear lessened when she saw the consternation that spread over his face, and she dared ask, “Just what
did
William tell you to do?”

“To assure you he would see you suffered no loss from answering his summons. I assumed he expected me to attend to your interests—” he laughed suddenly “—but I am afraid I did not think too much about what that would entail…for a whorehouse. My mind was on some other business I need to accomplish for Lord William.”

Magdalene laughed too, almost giddy with relief. “I wondered whether he wanted to destroy you or me,” she said, then shook her head. “If I can delay leaving for one more day, I will be able to arrange for a substitute to take my place. Then you would need come only once each evening to check on the receipts—I will leave a list of what they should be—and to listen to any complaints the women might have.”

“For me to come every evening…” Now aware of the perils of being so intimately connected with the whorehouse, the priest was uneasy.

Magdalene smiled at him. “No one need know. This house backs upon the grounds of St. Mary Overy priory and some scores of years ago this was the priory guesthouse. There is still a gate between the church grounds and my back garden, which the prior kindly leaves open so sinners in this house can confess and be absolved. You can come at Compline, entering at the abbey gate. From there you can walk around the church and come here through our back gate. When your business is finished, you can leave through the abbey gate.”

“Thus I will not be seen to enter a whorehouse every night and your clients will remain unaware of my visits.” Father Etienne nodded. “Lord William often speaks of how clever you are and how useful. He is not mistaken, I see.”

“He is always generous in his judgments,” Magdalene said noncommittally. Since a number of her more anxious clients used that path the idea was not as clever as the priest thought, but Magdalene never spoke of her clients voluntarily. “But I must ask you for one more indulgence,” she continued. “Lord William pays me a monthly fee for entertaining any of his men that he gives permission to come here. I will have to ask you to beg them not to use that privilege while I am away.”

“That I can do, and most willingly.” He frowned. “In any case, I think Lord William is recalling most of the men to Oxford. Sir Niall Arvagh and his troop have already returned to Oxford. I think Lord William plans to have the men camp well outside of the city—the weather is warm enough for them to live in tents.” He shrugged. “The city is, indeed, so crowded that not only the houses are filled but the churches and churchyards.”

He went on to expand on the problems raised by the new eagerness to attend on the king. Magdalene listened only enough to be sure he was repeating what she already knew. She had heard about the crowding in the city from those of William’s men who had been sent away from Oxford and had stopped in at the Old Priory Guesthouse.

Half the tradesmen in the city had been displaced or had men quartered on them. Magdalene wondered where
she
would stay and felt a new prick of anxiety. Would William want her to live with him? His primary use for her was a safe house to conduct political business. Any man from any party can come to a whorehouse without raising suspicion. However William did occasionally wish to lie with her. She had always agreed, although he was a terrible lover, driving to his own quick satisfaction, usually without foreplay or consideration for his partner.

On the other hand, William was most moderate in his sexual demands. He was far more interested in politics and the management of his many estates than in the pleasures of the flesh, but if he were
very
anxious it was possible he might feel the need for continued physical comfort. Magdalene swallowed uneasily. She was very fond of William, in fact she loved him, but…not that way.

The thought brought to mind the man she
did
love…that way, and Magdalene swallowed again. Bell. Sir Bellamy of Itchen, as clever as William and just as proud, although he did not come near William in wealth and power and made his living as one of the bishop of Winchester’s knights. Bell would have a fit when he heard she had agreed to go to William in Oxford, and if he heard she was living with William…Magdalene managed to restrain a shudder.

She had warned Bell when she finally allowed him into her bed that from time to time there would be, must be, other men, that their coupling could only be for a temporary pleasure, not a symbol of any permanent bonding. She had insisted from their first meeting that she was by profession a whore and would not change.

Magdalene did not sigh because she was aware that Father Etienne was looking at her while he talked, but she felt like sighing. Bell gave lip service to acceptance of her profession. Perhaps his head even acknowledged the truth of her warnings, but she feared his heart did not. Well, he would either learn to control his jealousy or they would come to a parting of the ways.

A funny hollow feeling in Magdalene’s midsection made her shift on her seat. That was wrong, she told herself. To become attached, to desire too much to please, that way lay disaster. She could never again be one man’s woman. Three men were dead from trying to keep her. And, because she had been a whore for many years, even if she agreed to abandon her trade and her business, even if she were as faithful to her man as a nun is to Christ, no man would ever trust her. To any man, no matter what he said, she would always be a whore. It was a very good thing, indeed, that William had summoned her. She was growing too…too wifelike. She must distance herself from Bell and retain her independence. Still, to live with William…Magdalene began to think over the friends and acquaintances she still had in Oxford from the years when she had managed a whorehouse there.

“The king’s power is now nearly absolute,” Father Etienne was saying, “although the bishop of Salisbury and his ‘nephews’ still do much of the day-to-day governing. They have done it for so long—years under the late King Henry and since King Stephen came to the throne—that they are obeyed without question by all the sheriffs and most of the local barons. This is making the king uneasy.”

Something in the priest’s voice snapped Magdalene out of her own thoughts. She peered at Father Etienne’s face, but she could not make out his expression. The room had become too dim. She glanced toward the open windows. It was still light outside and would be for some candlemarks yet because of the long evenings of summer, but the small windows did not let in enough light at this time of day.

“Let me bring some candles,” she said, rising and suiting the action to the words. “And surely you would like something to drink and a bite to eat?” She went to the banked fire in the hearth and lit a long sliver of wood.

“I would be grateful for a cup of wine,” Father Etienne agreed, and smiled self-deprecatingly. “I have been running on, have I not? But Lord William is uneasy…”

“Oh, no,” Magdalene assured him. “I am very eager to hear anything you are allowed to tell me. My usefulness increases the more I know, as I am then unlikely to say the wrong thing to the wrong person.”

Father Etienne laughed. “I cannot imagine you saying the wrong thing to
any
person, but I will be glad to tell you what I know, which, unfortunately, is more guess than fact. Before I go on, though, I must not forget to ask when it would be best for me to meet your women. They should know me, I think.”

“If you can stay until Vespers, they will all gather for the evening meal. Ella has a partner for the night, but he will come later, after dark. My women should be leading their present clients out at any moment.”

As if her statement had sparked the reaction, a door opened in the corridor and Ella’s little girl voice said, “You do not need to go so soon. See, the sun is not yet set. If you like…”

A man’s low rumble followed and Ella gave a lusty sigh.

“Oh, very well.
I know I must not importune you to stay when you say you must go. But we did have a good time… Well, I did! I hope I didn’t displease—” Her voice cut off sharply—perhaps the man kissed her—and was followed by a giggle. “I’m glad.”

The sound of a smacking kiss came and then another giggle, but fading, as if Ella was moving away. In another moment another door opened and closed and returning footsteps heralded the entrance of a girl who made the priest’s eyes widen once more. She was short and beautifully rounded, high white breasts peeping above the low décolletage of a pale blue robe, which obviously covered a naked body. Her hair hung in pure golden ringlets and waves to her hips, her eyes were large and as clear blue as a cloudless summer sky…and just as empty.

When she saw Father Etienne, she stopped short and her rosy lips made an O of consternation. She began to back away, saying, “I am so sorry, Magdalene. I didn’t know you had a client with you.”

“No, no, love,” Magdalene said, getting up and going to the girl, whom the priest would have taken for a blushing innocent as color rose in her cheeks if he had not heard her with the man who had left by the back door. “Come in, Ella, do. This is Father Etienne.”

The look of smiling welcome disappeared from the girl’s face and she stiffened slightly. Then she dropped a curtsey and said, “Father,” in a frightened voice.

Magdalene slipped an arm around her waist and drew her into the room. “There’s no need to fear Father Etienne,” she assured Ella. “He is William’s clerk and has come on business.”

“Oh.” The smile returned to Ella’s lips and her eyes sparkled. She was startlingly lovely. “Lord William’s man,” she said, happily. “He will not lecture me and threaten me with being eternally damned.” Then the smile dimmed. “But you said he was here on business. Does that mean he cannot come and play with me?”

Father Etienne’s lips twitched. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, pretty Ella. My calling forbids.”

“Oh, but—” Ella began, but before Magdalene could speak or even gesture, there was the sound of another door opening.

“Do not be so silly,” a rich contralto voice said. “You know it is my pleasure to pleasure you, and it
was
a pleasure. You’ve taught me something new, which is a miracle. Would you be angry if I…ah…used it again?”

“Course not.” A male giggle. “That’s why I taught you, because I like it.”

“But that means you intend to come again.” The rich voice was full of hope and expectation.

A male laugh, not girlishly high but not a man’s full-chested tone. “M’father said to come and paid. Said it was worth being a little thin on other things. He’s no fool, m’father. He was right, but I’ll lay odds he won’t short me, that he’ll come up with the silver. I’ll be back as soon as I can touch him for the price.”

The back door opened and closed. Father Etienne looked expectantly toward the opening to the corridor. A moment later he was rewarded by the entrance of a woman of ordinary height—but that was the only thing ordinary about her. Her eyes were as bright and clear as the emerald glass in a church window. Auburn hair, brown but with enough red to give a hot glow, tumbled over back and shoulders to her hips in deep waves. Her skin was very pale, almost the milky white of a true redhead but with a gleaming lustre, and her smile was an invitation to confide.

“This is Diot,” Magdalene said, patting Ella on her bottom, and telling her to run and tell Dulcie there would be an extra person for the evening meal, “Diot is neither silly, mute, nor blind…”

As she said the words, Magdalene faltered and a great weight she had not even realized was crushing her dropped off. There would be no need for her to seek among the retired whores or whoremistresses she knew for a substitute. Diot had not been with her long enough for complete trust, but she would be far more trustworthy than anyone not connected to the Old Priory Guesthouse. She was happy here and would not want to do any damage to the business, and overseen by Father Etienne, she would not be able to steal. Not that Magdalene suspected Diot of thieving under ordinary circumstances, but the temptation to keep unexpected revenues for herself would be strong, particularly as she would be doing double duty. She would have to manage her own clients and others… Magdalene pushed the thoughts away. There would be time enough tomorrow to explain to Diot, who did not lack for sense.

“…and she has the patience of a saint with self-important younglings,” Magdalene went on with only the barest hesitation.

Diot laughed. “Ah well, it’s easy enough to pretend the old, old ploys are new and that they enthrall me. It tells me what the younglings like and what will not shock them, poor innocents. And at least I do not need to exhaust myself to bring their standing men to attention.”

“I cannot imagine any man—myself included, although I am forbidden to satisfy the impulse—being slow to rise to your invitation,” Father Etienne said, grinning.

Diot’s brows lifted questioningly and Magdalene said, “This is Father Etienne, who has come as William’s messenger. I will have to leave for Oxford the day after tomorrow—” She turned and said to the priest, “That will do, will it not?”

The priest’s brows drew together. “Ah, how long will it take you to reach Oxford? A baggage train—”

Magdalene shook her head. “I need no baggage train. I will ride and take a mule to carry what I need. If any of William’s men are going back, I could ride with them, or I could hire a man or two from the Watch to accompany me. In any case, if I leave on Saturday, I will be in Oxford either late on Sunday or early on Monday.”