“She does?” There was a tinge of disbelief in the bishop’s voice and a half-smile on his lips.
“Indeed she does, my lord.” Bell smiled too. “She says compared with others, you are a good landlord and do not squeeze her so hard as to destroy her business.”
“Ah.” The smile lingered on Winchester’s lips.
“It seems,” Bell said, “that Lord Waleran sent messages to his brother Hugh that he not interfere in any way with your planning and summoning for the convocation.”
Winchester had begun to lift his wine goblet to his lips and now sat with it arrested half way to his mouth. He stared at Bell. After a long moment he said, “Do you believe this? Do you believe that Waleran de Meulan wishes for the success of my convocation?” And he set the goblet down on the table.
Bell returned the bishop’s steady gaze. He had come to the crux of his tale. “At first, when Magdalene told me I said it must be a lie set about by de Meulan to make me less wary to protect you or for some other hidden purpose. But she laughed and said no, the success of the convocation was the best thing in the world that could happen to Lord Waleran.”
“It has nothing to do with de Meulan, except to make me look weak and a fool if it fails.”
“No, my lord, now I, too, realize Lord Waleran’s desire that the convocation succeed is most reasonable. What, Magdalene asked, could make the king more angry at you, more resentful of you, than forcing him to return Salisbury’s hoard and his castles? Would the king not believe—if those who know of Gloucester’s letter speak of it—that you, the king’s own brother, want Salisbury in power so that he can welcome Gloucester? What could make Lord Waleran’s hold on the king stronger than that you be shown half a traitor, willing to hurt your brother in this way, to strip what he believes is his rightful prize from him?”
“That is mad,” Winchester whispered. “I
set
Stephen on the throne. I convinced the old archbishop to anoint him as king. I convinced the Treasurer to open King Henry’s vaults of treasure to him. I do not wish to hurt him, only to protect the Church. How could he believe…?”
Bell had said what he had to say, and had no intention of allowing Winchester to argue the point he had made and perhaps convince himself it was not valid. Acting as if he had not heard the bishop’s agonized murmur, he asked, “When would you have me make the men ready to travel, my lord?”
Winchester looked at him blankly then shook his head. “This needs thought, not riding hither and thither around England in pursuit of the king. I will send Father Wilfrid to Stephen. He was my brother’s confessor when Stephen lived in King Henry’s court and Stephen is soft to the old man.”
Bell smiled broadly. “Very good, my lord. Father Wilfrid can convince me that the sun shines when it is raining. The king will believe the tale of the murdered whore.”
“Better than if it came from me,” Winchester agreed, his lips twisted wryly. Then he sighed and added, “I left a list with Phillipe of things my steward wanted ordered from London. Nothing, luckily, that could be considered the least warlike. I need hose for the singing boys in the cathedral, and gowns. They grow… I do not remember the rest but it is all on the list. You could take care of that. I will let you know or leave a message for you if I decide to travel.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Bell rose, silently replaced the stool near the wall, and left the bishop to his uneasy thoughts.
After Bell had gone to bed, Magdalene had written to William detailing everything that had happened, starting with Nelda’s discovery in Winchester’s bedchamber and including what she and Bell had learned from each other that evening. Tom had taken the letter to William’s house on the grounds of the White Tower with a request from her to the men stationed there that the news be sent on to William.
Then, restless and uneasy, she had sat up even later finishing the embroidered ribbons for cuffs, which she still had not decided to bring to Claresta. Still uneasy, she had wakened somewhat earlier than usual. She was a little worried when Dulcie told her that Bell had left without eating breakfast, but she deliberately put that out of her mind. Dulcie brought bread and cheese and ale, and Magdalene was nibbling at the food while she looked at the cuffs and thought about the pennies for which she could sell them if she did not give them to Claresta. Then the bell rang.
It was far too early for a client. Her women had seen their men off soon after sunrise and gone back to bed. However, there might be a message. Diot had no client for tonight because the apothecary had sickened of some disorder for which he was treating a patient. Magdalene was grateful that he had not come with the sickness on him, but she would be happy to find a substitute for him and went off to answer the bell quite cheerfully.
Thus, her expression was pleasantly welcoming when she opened the gate—but only to the length of its chain. And she put her shoulder to it so she could slam it shut as soon as she saw a face that was familiar but to which she could not put a name. The man was wearing a sword belt and was too well dressed to be a local messenger and now she saw a horse at rein’s length to the side. The man riding to William who wanted more information? Someone from William? She did not know every man of his well, only those he favored by granting them recreation at the Old Priory Guesthouse.
So instead of slamming the gate, she said, “Yes?”
“You know me, Magdalene. I am Sir Linley of Godalming.”
The man who kept Nelda and had found herself, Diot, and Bell examining the place Nelda lived. But Bell said Linley had not killed Nelda. He looked worried, but not angry.
“Yes?” Magdalene repeated.
“Let me in, Magdalene. I must speak to you.”
For a moment longer, Magdalene hesitated. Then, recalling that Linley had no reputation for violence, she unhooked the chain and opened the gate. He came in, drawing the horse in after him, but he made no move to take the animal to the stable. Magdalene had not really thought he was looking for a substitute for Nelda, but not stabling the horse was an assurance he did not intend to stay.
“Well?” she asked, closing the gate but not chaining it.
“You took things from Nelda’s rooms. You had no right to do that.”
Magdalene stared at him and after a moment asked calmly, “How do you know that I took anything? How do you know what Nelda had…unless you were party to her thievery?”
He sighed heavily. “I…I suspected that she was not completely honest, but she did not steal from me and she was very good company. Not only in bed, but…she was clever, witty.” He sighed again. “I suppose I should have checked her, but no one complained and I did not suspect the trade in poppy juice cakes. Magdalene, you must give back what she held. I wish to return the tokens to those who ask.”
While he spoke, Magdalene had time to think. Although she actually would be glad of one irate poppy-craver banging on her gate when Bell was in the house, she had no guarantee that that was when such a person would arrive. She certainly did not want such a person arriving at the wrong moment and annoying her clients. Moreover, there might well be more than one. And she had no idea how strong the craving might be.
She shook her head. “I do not have what you want.”
“I do not believe you!” Linley’s voice rose and his hand tightened on the horse’s rein. “You and your woman were alone in Nelda’s rooms. The knight—Sir Bellamy—was outside with me. He had nothing of hers. He was examining the stair and the wall. So it must have been you and your woman who took Nelda’s property.”
Magdalene sidled away from him and walked quickly toward the house. He dropped the horse’s rein and followed.
“Lying will not help you,” he called after her. “When you and your woman came out, you both were concealing something in the folds of your veils. You have no right to those tokens…or to Nelda’s money either, Nelda did harm enough to those poor men. Let me at least give them back their property without causing them more embarrassment and shame.”
Having reached the doorstep, Magdalene stopped and turned toward Linley again. “I tell you again that I do not have what you want. And even if I did, I would be doing those men no favor by giving you their keepsakes. Why should I believe that all you wish is to return the tokens?”
He gaped at her for a moment. “What else should I want to do with them but to rid myself of the importunity of those who knew that Nelda lived in my house and I often used her? They think I knew her secrets.”
“Who was more likely to do so?”
“No.” Linley reached to grasp her arm; Magdalene backed out of the way. He followed her but barely into the room and made no further move to seize her. “Look here, I am about to make a most advantageous marriage. I am on my way to show my father the proposed contract. I do not want argument and scandal to upset my future father-by-marriage.”
That annoyed Magdalene, who felt that Linley should have mentioned Claresta as well as his future father-by-marriage. Of course he might know that Claresta did not wish to marry him, but that only made worse his indifference to Claresta’s possible knowledge that he kept a mistress and his continued determination to make the marriage.
Magdalene fondly hoped that Rhyton
would
turn Linley away, although she was sure he would not. Rhyton had chosen Linley only because he was in line to inherit a barony and was willing to marry a rich commoner. Magdalene suspected that Nelda’s connection with Linley and her death would be irrelevant to Rhyton. In fact, she thought that Linley was greatly exaggerating the effect complaints about Nelda would have on his future father-by-marriage.
“I cannot help you,” Magdalene said coldly. “I tell you that you are wasting your time here. It is useless to argue with me or threaten me.”
Linley seemed to pale a little but his jaw jutted with determination. “You took the things from Nelda’s rooms. You say you do not have them now. Only three days since I
saw
you carry them away. What did you do with them? To whom did you sell them? If you will tell me, perhaps I can buy them back.”
It was now apparent to Magdalene that she would have to tell Linley
something.
He was not going to give up and he might well tell those who were plaguing him to plague her instead. That would be bad for business. To tell him that Bell had taken everything would likely make him rush to question Bell; Magdalene sighed. Bell did not really know how to lie. Thus he would refuse to answer, Linley would continue to question, and Bell would doubtless end up beating Linley, which in the long run would make trouble for Bell. Who would Linley
not
wish to annoy?
“I did not sell anything,” Magdalene said. “As far as I know, the bishop of Winchester has what was found in Nelda’s rooms. The woman was discovered in his house, and he is determined to learn who killed her and who brought her there.”
“The bishop,” Linley echoed softly. “How did Winchester know you had found anything in Nelda’s rooms?”
“I was with his man, Sir Bellamy. And in a way it was Winchester who sent me to Nelda’s place. He wanted to know everything that could be learned about her. When Nelda was found, the bishop recognized that she was a whore so he sent Sir Bellamy to ask if I knew her and what else I could find out.” She paused and shrugged. “Winchester is my landlord. I try to find answers for any questions he asks.”
Linley’s shoulders drooped and he took a half step backward toward the doorway. Then he stopped. “Do you know whether Winchester intends to question the men whose tokens he recognizes about Nelda’s death and how she came into his chamber?”
Magdalene laughed. “Do you think Winchester makes me his confidant? When he desires that I do something for him, he sends an order, often with Sir Bellamy who collects my rent—and I obey.” She sighed. “I do not
know
anything, but I imagine Winchester is still trying to find out who carried Nelda into his house. It was plain she did not walk there with a broken neck.”
“He was very angry about that, was he not?” Linley drew a hard breath.
Raising her brows, Magdalene laughed again. “How would you like to return from a long ride and find a dead woman propped at your table?
Specially
a dead whore, if you were a bishop? Yes, he is very angry and determined to discover who did him such a despite. He wasted no time at all in sending Sir Bellamy to ask whether I knew the woman and could guess who had killed her.”
Linley stared at her for another moment and then finished his turn away from her, caught up his horse’s reins, and led the beast out of the gate. Magdalene waited until she heard the hoof beats move away, then went and secured the gate again. She came back to the house and sat down at the table, but did not reach for the food she had abandoned.
After a while, Diot came from her room and then Letice. Magdalene told them about Linley’s visit. “I am not sure what he will do,” she finished, “but be very careful if you go out or go to the gate. It is not impossible that he will tell anyone who presses him about Nelda’s ill-gotten gains that I took them away.”
But there were no untoward incidents that day, and Linley’s visit brought some good aftereffects too. Bell came to share their evening meal and to tell Magdalene about his meeting with the bishop. In exchange she described Linley’s demand and how she had replied to it. “But I am sure he will not confront the bishop,” she ended.
“Likely not,” Bell agreed easily, “and with a demand like that—a return of tokens taken from a dead whore’s room, not to mention that particular dead whore—Winchester’s clerks and guards are not likely to let Linley anywhere near the bishop.” He frowned then. “But did Linley believe you? Was he angry enough to be spiteful? To send those men here even if he did believe you?”
“What men?” Ella asked. “Will they want to be friends? I have Baby Face coming tonight and I do not think—”
“No, love,” Magdalene said giggling and making a small gesture at Bell that he not ask. “Baby Face will keep you well occupied, and I do not think these men will want to be friends anyway. They just have some questions to ask.”