The Wandering Arm (36 page)
“And you would not wish such traffic to continue unchecked and unpunished,” John said.
“Naturally not,” Giles answered.
“Then we are in agreement?” John asked.
“We are,” the archdeacon said. “Only one thing worries me. We are assuming that the relic I will be offered is an impostor. But what if it isn’t? How can I be sure?”
“In that case, my lord,” John said, “we will have to rely on Saint Aldhelm to make the truth manifest.”
When they were outside again, John congratulated Edgar on his restraint.
“I don’t know why you wanted me there at all,” Edgar answered. “It was only your intervention that saved his nose from being bent like a crozier.”
“I took the risk because I wanted to remind him that you are as wellborn as he,” John told him. “Even your rudeness indicates your birth. He had to realize that before he would give any credit to your story.”
Edgar stopped dead in the road. “Do you mean that my throwing him out of the house impressed him?”
“Only someone very sure of his place would dare such a thing,” John answered. “I couldn’t have done it. Especially in that house.”
“Yes, you could,” Edgar said. “You’d do it for God’s honor, that’s all. I was thinking only of my family.”
John seemed embarrassed. “In any case, I think he’s convinced. Now we just have to hope that Giles is offered the false reliquary.”
Edgar didn’t answer.
“Something else?” John asked.
“If the canon is ordained, he can’t be hanged for murder,” Edgar said. “At the worst, he’ll be shut up in a monastery somewhere or sent on pilgrimage.”
“Believe me, Edgar, that can be worse than hanging,” John promised. “I’ve heard about the penances given such men.”
“I hope you’re right,” Edgar said.
That afternoon Catherine told Edgar about her father’s offer. “He says he wants me to do his accounts again,” she said happily.
“That’s good,” Edgar said. “You need something to keep you busy.”
“Until?” she asked. She could hear the unsaid half of the sentence more loudly than the words he spoke.
“Until we have children,” he said. “Until you have a husband who needs a chatelaine to attend to his lands. Of course, you may have to wait some time for that. Perhaps your second husband.”
“Edgar!”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Of course we’ll go live with your father again. I never imagined we’d do anything else.”
“Would you rather stay here?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he answered. “This is no place for a man of my exalted rank. I was just reminded of that.”
Catherine put a hand on his sleeve. “Edgar, I don’t understand everything you’re saying and what I do understand frightens me horribly.”
She bent to find her
sabots,
hiding her face. When she rose again, she had regained control. “This isn’t a good time to discuss the future,” she told him. “You’re still upset about Gaudry and Odo. So am I. When this business is finished, we’ll talk.”
sabots,
hiding her face. When she rose again, she had regained control. “This isn’t a good time to discuss the future,” she told him. “You’re still upset about Gaudry and Odo. So am I. When this business is finished, we’ll talk.”
“Umph,” he said, lacing up his boots.
She assumed that was agreement. There were a thousand things she wanted to say to reassure him. She would say anything to prevent him from slipping into this melancholia. But she was so afraid the words she would choose would be the wrong ones that she couldn’t say anything at all.
The walk across the Grand Pont, down the rue de Juiverie and through the alleyways to the tavern was the longest of Catherine’s life. She was grateful to see that John and Maurice were already there when they arrived. She wouldn’t be expected to say much.
“John told me about your meeting with the archdeacon,” Maurice said. “I think your plan is magnificent.”
“What there is of it,” Edgar said. He took out his cup and started to get up to go fill it.
“I’ll do it,” Catherine said. “If you’ll let me share. I forgot mine. I’ll not dip my sleeve in it. I promise.”
He handed her the cup. As he did, he squeezed her wrist, quickly. It was enough. She felt instantly better.
She went over to the table and asked Bietrix for some ale.
“Is Lucia in tonight?” she asked.
“She’ll be back once it’s dark,” Bietrix answered. “She offered to work today as they are preparing a feast for tonight.”
Catherine had forgotten. The twilight was deepening now. It shouldn’t be long.
There was something important she had neglected to tell Edgar. It tickled at the edge of her mind as she walked back to the table.
She sat the cup down and gave Edgar the first gulp. He needed it far more than she. Across the table, Maurice smiled at her. She smiled back. He was looking better fed today. Perhaps the archdeacon had seen that he got a decent meal. Thank goodness Maurice wasn’t a canon yet. He didn’t need to join them in their fast tonight.
“That’s it,” Catherine said. “The canon.”
“Yes?” John asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Nothing.”
It had occurred to her that the name of the canon wasn’t something to be shouting in a crowded tavern, this one most of all.
Goliath had done business with Natan. Goliath sold beer in Argenteuil. Lucia said her brother liked Natan, but resentment isn’t always obvious from the outside and Goliath was the one who bought the powder they put in the beer. Lucia said it couldn’t kill anyone, but perhaps if it were concentrated enough, it could. Catherine was sure that the strange scent on Natan’s breath was the same as the ground cherry on Solomon’s cloak. But, if Goliath were working with Natan, perhaps transporting stolen goods, why kill him? And why use poison? Goliath could take a man out with one hand. Perhaps Goliath had simply provided someone else with the poison. Someone Natan trusted.
Catherine wished her speculations didn’t keep pointing back to Lucia. There must have been someone else Natan would have taken a cup from. All the same, perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to go with her tonight.
As she was debating this, Hubert arrived and demanded that he be told everything, as a representative of the abbey Saint-Denis, if nothing else. The men were soon huddled over their bowls of beer and a large hunk of cheese that they cut pieces from and ate as they talked.
Lucia’s face appeared at the door to the brewery. Catherine got up, murmuring an excuse. If she didn’t go, the relic might never be found. None of the men seemed to notice that she took her cloak with her. Bietrix nodded as she walked by.
“I went past Saint-Étienne on my way home,” Lucia whispered. “It’s almost deserted. Take this lantern. We’ll be back before they know you’re gone.”
In the courtyard Samson was carrying the casks of new beer down to the cellar. He stopped when he saw them.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he challenged. “Does Mother know you’re out here?”
“I have an errand to do,” Lucia answered. “We won’t be long.”
“Better not,” he grunted, lifting the cask again.
It was a short distance to the church. As Lucia had promised, no one was inside. Even the children were in line to receive their share of the alms. The two women went down the ambulatory and stopped at the door of the crypt.
It was hanging by one hinge, stuck halfway open. Catherine knew well that there was no one buried down there now. The bishops and saints had all been moved to Saint-Denis or Notre Dame. But the sense of ruin alone made her skin crawl.
Lucia wasn’t bothered by atmosphere. She stepped over the fallen timbers and started down the steps. Catherine followed, holding the lantern close to the stone to avoid tripping on the debris. The wooden ceiling had collapsed in places and what was left was propped up by crumbling pillars of plaster and wood.
“Hurry,” Lucia said. “We don’t have much time.”
They reached the bottom of the steps. To the right were several slabs on which the sarcophagi of great and holy men had once rested. A few were broken, though, the pieces leaning against the pillars. Lucia led Catherine to a far corner, where one burial niche had been built into the wall. She climbed up onto it.
“We usually brought a blanket,” she commented. “You can hang the lantern on that hook. I’ll need your help.”
Catherine did as she was told. As she did, she heard a scraping noise from behind her. She gave a small yip.
“Rats,” Lucia said.
Catherine waited. The scrape was not repeated. She got into the niche next to Lucia, who was pulling at a stone set into the wall at one end.
“We found this by accident,” she told Catherine. “I needed something to hang on to and there was an iron ring in here and so I pulled, and, you see?”
The stone slid out as if greased. Unexpectedly, it was no more than a handbreadth thick. Their heads were in the way of the light so Catherine couldn’t see what was behind, but she had already guessed.
Lucia took the box from the cavity in the wall. It was no longer nailed shut. The rope was wound around it loosely. Lucia set it on her lap.
“I should have known at once that he would hide it here,” she said.
“Shouldn’t we go now?” Catherine said.
Lucia lifted the box and offered it to Catherine. “I want to see what Natan died for. You open it for me,” she said. “You know what to say.”
“Lucia, we need a bishop or an abbot at least, for the translation of a relic,” Catherine pleaded. “I think we should take this to Notre Dame and let them take care of it.”
“No,” Lucia said. “This is my legacy. I want to see it now. Then we’ll give it to whoever you want.”
“Very well.” Catherine took the box and laid it in her lap. She tried to think of something suitable to say to Aldhelm, if he were in there. Perhaps it would be better to speak to God directly.
“O Domine,”
she chanted softly.
“Ego serva tua et filia ancillae tuae.
”
she chanted softly.
“Ego serva tua et filia ancillae tuae.
”
“What did you say?” Lucia asked.
“‘I am your servant, Lord, and the daughter of your handmaid,’” Catherine said as she opened the box. “You repeat that.”
Catherine dropped the lid on the floor. It clattered like the coming of the four horsemen.
“Misericors Dominus et justus et Deus noster miseretur,”
Catherine said. “‘God is merciful and just; our God is filled with pity.’ Say it quickly, Lucia.”
Catherine said. “‘God is merciful and just; our God is filled with pity.’ Say it quickly, Lucia.”
She did, staring in awe. “Do you think that’s your Aldhelm?”
“Yes.”
It was nothing more than a crudely carved box, in the form of an arm. There were scratches on it where the gold had been sawn off. At the wrist there was a hole that had once been covered with glass. Inside they could make out a bone.
Lucia put out her hand, then drew it back. “All the power of the saints should be there, but it looks so helpless now,” she said in wonder.
“There is power, but not like human strength.” Catherine tried to explain although she wasn’t sure she understood completely herself. “This is more of a promise, a symbol of the person this once was. He’s in heaven now; he doesn’t need this body. We need it, to help us comprehend things that are beyond human experience.”
“But can’t relics work miracles?” Lucia asked.
“Of course,” Catherine said. “Edgar told me that a man was cured of dumbness when the fingers of Saint Aldhelm were put in his mouth, and a woman was cured of a shaking in her limbs when she prayed before his tomb. But it’s not the relic that effects the cure, Lucia; it’s God who works a miracle because the saint sees our respect and devotion and asks him to.”
“Do you think, then, that we could get a miracle for returning Saint Aldhelm?” Lucia said hopefully.
Hope blazed up in Catherine, too, as the one miracle she wanted leaped into her mind. She put away the thought. “I don’t know.” She shook her head sadly. “But I think we have to return him anyway and try not to look for a reward.”
Lucia picked up the lid and wrapped the rope around the box again. They started to climb out of the niche.
“You bitch!”
Catherine slipped and scraped her hand on the stone. Lucia jerked at the sound of the voice, nearly losing her hold on the box containing the reliquary.
“You whore,
jael,
jezebel,
gordine,
slut!” the voice went on in the dark. “Did you think you could hide your disgusting acts? Did you think such filth wouldn’t be found out?”
jael,
jezebel,
gordine,
slut!” the voice went on in the dark. “Did you think you could hide your disgusting acts? Did you think such filth wouldn’t be found out?”
Lucia peered across the crypt. He was out of range of the lantern light but she knew the voice well.
“Samson,” she said. “What are you saying? Have you gone mad? Why did you follow us here?”
“I knew that if I watched you long enough, you’d lead me to where he hid it,” her brother answered. “How could you disgrace yourself so as to lie with that infidel?”
“What disgrace?” Lucia said. “Our mother keeps a brothel, Samson. At least I give myself for love.”
“That’s even worse,” Samson said. “That just means you’re an idiot as well as a heretic.”
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