Chains of Folly (3 page)

“Ah, I see.” Diot nodded. “Then Stephen was able to say that Salisbury had broken the king’s peace and no longer deserved to be the chief minister of the kingdom.”

“That was not all,” Bell said between gritted teeth. “The king also demanded that Salisbury yield all of the castles he had built and what was therein. Salisbury refused and the king had him arrested together with the bishop of Lincoln and Salisbury’s son, Roger le Poer.”

“But surely Stephen is not so mad as to treat his own brother and the pope’s legate in the same way,” Diot said.

“God knows,” Bell sighed. “The problem is that my master cannot ignore the affront to the Church.”

“But is it an affront to the Church?” Magdalene asked. “The king has not seized any of Salisbury’s benefices nor threatened his position as bishop. The only things Stephen wrested from Salisbury are his castles, owned by the man not the Church, his secular offices, his place as justiciar and other appointments. That is surely the king’s right.”

“But it is not his right to seize Salisbury, Lincoln, and Roger le Poer physically. The person of a man of the Church is sacrosanct, and specially the person of a bishop.”

Magdalene shrugged. “What did you want Stephen to do? Look the other way while Salisbury and his kin fled into their stuffed and garnished keeps? Come Bell, you are a soldier and know that the king, having exposed to them his suspicion of their treachery, could not let them slip out of his grasp.”

“It is very strange indeed to hear you singing Waleran de Meulan’s song,” Bell snarled.

“Why are you angry?” Ella cried, looking from one to the other, tears rising into her eyes.

“Oh, love,” Magdalene sighed, leaning over to pat Ella’s hand, “we are not angry with each other. We both desire the same thing but are convinced that different ways of obtaining it are best. So we talk quick and loud, but…but we are still…friends…” She took a quick deep breath, glanced sidelong at Bell, and began to laugh, realizing that the word “friend” meant something different to Ella.

Bell, understanding quite well that to Ella “friend” meant a man you serviced, flushed, and then also laughed. “But in a way you are quite right, Ella,” he said. “There is no sense at all in Magdalene and me quarreling about this because we have no power to change what will happen. My master has decided what he will do, and I am bound to carry out his orders. Besides, what I came for was something quite different.”

“I thought you came to see us,” Ella remarked, pouting.

“That was an added pleasure, but not what brought me. I told you that I was here on business.”

At that moment, Dulcie came from the kitchen carrying a large platter of beef slices swimming in their own gravy and a smaller one on which slices of the smoked salmon were laid out. She went out again, but Bell, stomach growling, drew his eating knife, speared two slices of the beef, and dropped them on the broad trencher of stale bread that marked his place at the table.

By then Dulcie was back with a deep bowl of greens and another of turnips and carrots. A third trip brought a tureen from which rose the odor of a savory fish stew. With a broad smile, Letice filled her bowl with that and put some smoked salmon and some vegetables on her trencher. Then she fixed her eyes on Bell and as soon as she caught his, she made a sign for him to continue.

Bell chewed and swallowed, glanced at Ella, and sighed. “You know my lord has been at Winchester for some weeks past. Yesterday afternoon, late, we rode into London where he stopped at St. Paul’s to talk to Father Holdyn, the episcopal vicar, and then went on to his house. He had, of course, sent the servants and the carts ahead, but when we arrived, instead of finding all ready, the house was in turmoil.”

“Oh, I hope no ill has befallen Father Wilfrid,” Magdalene said. The old clerk who remained in London to attend to any minor problems with Winchester’s property had always been fair and reasonable when considering her requests—which was not always true when churchmen dealt with whores.

“No, no. He is well, except for feeling that he had somehow failed the bishop. When the servants went up to set up the bishop’s bed, you see, they had found a woman…ah, in the bishop’s chair, seated at his table, and…ah…it was impossible to…er…ask her to rise and leave.”

Letice and Diot stared at him; both then glanced at Ella, who was busy picking pieces off the slice of smoked salmon she had taken, pushing aside the pieces of beef that Letice had cut up for her.

“I suppose she had a reason,” Diot said.

“Yes. The poor woman seems to have been badly beaten and a day or two later she somehow…ah…damaged her neck…ah…permanently.”

Letice’s eyes opened wide. She signed one finger going down several others, then sliding, then lying bent on the table, then getting up and climbing the stair again. At which point she shook her head vehemently.

“Yes, just so. The bishop and I went up at once to look at her and it was clear that she could not have climbed up to Winchester’s bedchamber on her own. Moreover I found marks on the windowsill that showed she was pulled up by a rope.”

Diot shuddered, made sure Ella was concentrating on her food, and put her hands around her own throat. Bell shook his head.

“I will explain that later,” he said, glancing at Ella. “But what brings me here in particular, is that she is dressed as one of your sisterhood. Obviously, since the servants who found her cried out in alarm so that everyone in the house rushed up to see what was wrong, there is no way of keeping this secret. Plainly it was intended to embarrass the bishop, but he has
no
idea who would do such a thing—”

“Nonsense,” Magdalene said. “Anyone who wished to make the conclave the bishop has called into a travesty might try to show Winchester as sorely stained with secular vice.” She frowned. “That is not fair. Winchester has his faults, but he has kept his vows of abstemiousness and chastity.”

“No, it is not fair, but his opponents do not play fair. So, will you help us, Magdalene? The bishop hopes you will be able to find out who the woman was and to whom she was connected.”

“Yes, of course. I will try, at least. I do not know every whore in Southwark, but what does she look like?”

“Alas, very ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes, a pleasant face—well, it would have been pleasant if it were not slack and fallen in. Oh, yes, she had a mole right here.”

Bell touched the edge of his right brow. Magdalene shook her head but, oddly, both Diot and Letice frowned.

“It might be that I know her,” Diot said uncertainly, and Letice nodded agreement. After a glance at her sister whore, Diot added, “I would have to see her.” And again Letice nodded agreement, but she did not look at all happy.

“It is too late now,” Magdalene said. “Our guests will be arriving very soon. Tomorrow morning?”

Bell had not returned to share the evening meal with the women of the Old Priory Guesthouse despite Ella’s warm assurances that she had no friend coming to visit her that night and would be glad to play any game he liked. The few glances he cast at Magdalene showed her to be perfectly expressionless. Bell had sighed and shaken his head. It would have served no purpose to return.

With Ella free he would not have been able to discuss the woman’s murder with Magdalene and it would have been difficult to explain to Ella why he was not simply walking into Magdalene’s bedchamber to spend the night as he had been doing for months. It would have been hard to explain to his body also. And probably he could have her. All he needed was five silver pennies, which was her price. She said she was a whore. Then he could buy her like any other whore.

Only Bell knew that was not true. Magdalene was not for sale to
any
man. Oddly that thought gave him more comfort than pain, but he pushed it out of his mind and stretched his long legs, cursing himself mildly for walking out the front door of the Guesthouse instead of out the back. Now he would have to walk all around St. Mary Overy priory instead of just going through the gate at the back of Magdalene’s garden, crossing behind the church, the graveyard, out the front gate of the priory, and across the road to Winchester’s house.

When he arrived at the bishop’s house, however, he saw that arriving earlier would not have been any advantage.

Phillipe, the scholarly and learned young clerk in minor orders seated at the table partially blocking the door to the bishop’s private chamber, shook his head at Bell.

“I can tell him you are here, but he is deep in the affairs of London diocese with Father Holdyn.”

Bell nodded and sat down on the stool near Phillipe’s table. “Tell him. He was so overset by finding that woman in his bedchamber that he did not tell me what more he wanted me to do today.”

The young clerk shuddered and turned pale as he rose. “Terrible. That was so terrible. Why? Who would do such a thing?”

“I need to discover who she was before I can hope to discover who placed her in my lord’s chamber. I have set that first matter in hand, I hope, but—” he was about to say that the women who might give him information would be occupied until the following morning, but he decided to spare young Phillipe’s blushes and went on “—my informants cannot tell me more until tomorrow morning.”

Poor Phillipe blushed violently anyway as he hurried to enter the bishop’s chamber. Bell chuckled softly. Apparently the young man already knew to whom Bell had gone for information. But he liked Phillipe, who had his opinions but never allowed them to interfere with his duty.

To Bell’s surprise Phillipe was back in a moment, holding the door open and gesturing for Bell to enter. He did so at once, and saw Father Holdyn gathering up and putting in order the documents that were strewn over Winchester’s table.

Bell swallowed a grin. It always seemed so inappropriate to see documents in Father Holdyn’s huge hands. He towered over the bishop, topping Bell’s own considerable height, and he was as hard and fit as Bell too. There wasn’t a church in London that needed repairs that did not find Father Holdyn carrying stones and mortar for the walls or raising heavy beams. His lank black hair and deep-set dark eyes only added to the impression of strength and determination.

As he straightened the documents into order, the episcopal vicar said, “What is this terrible thing I hear about your servants finding a woman in your bedchamber?”

Winchester’s brows rose and Bell bit his lips to hold back laughter. Father Holdyn was a true ornament of the Church. He was very nearly as clever and as efficient as Winchester himself and he was much more truly pious.

“She was in no condition to be a temptation to me, I assure you,” the bishop said dryly, and then, his eyes being drawn to Bell by the knight’s approach added, “And when I think of the appearance of some of my tenants, not much of a temptation even had she been alive. Very ordinary. Brown hair, brown eyes, a mole near the end of her right eyebrow, and a full bosom… Oh, sorry, Holdyn, did I offend you by noticing that?”

“No, no, of course not,” Father Holdyn said stiffly, but he scrambled the remainder of the documents together and pushed them hurriedly into a large leather satchel. “I will attend to the matter of St. Columba’s church as you decided, and I will speak to the dean of St. Paul’s about better controlling the churchyard vendors.”

“Good,” Winchester said. “Thank you.” And as soon as the door closed behind Father Holdyn, sighed to Bell, “He is
such
a good man. Not only is he a wonderful administrator but he is a good priest, truly compassionate to the worst sinners. But why does he believe that taking holy orders caused me to go blind? I vowed to be chaste, not an idiot.”

Bell chuckled. “No, my lord, and even if you took a vow to be an idiot, I doubt you could keep that one. Besides, I suspect it was not the temptation of the woman’s bosom that made you think of it but what I found beneath it.”

The bishop sighed. “You may be right, Bell.” He stiffened for a moment—Bell guessed he was repressing a shiver—and added, “Thank God you decided to examine her to see if she had any other wounds. If we had just sent her over to St. Mary Overy… That accursed letter would have been common knowledge.”

“Well, the infirmarian would have had to tell the prior, of course, but Prior Benin is no fool. He might well have sent the letter directly to you or asked you to come for it. Still, I agree that it is much better that only you and I know of it. It leaves you free to do as you like.”

“Unfortunately it does not. What I would like to do would be to put that parchment in a fire, but I dare not.”

Bell looked offended. “My lord, if you think that I—”

“Do not be ridiculous. If betrayal was ever your intention, you could have put that letter in your pouch and I would never have known about it. You called me and showed me that she had something wrapped in her breastband. It is nothing to do with you, Bell. It has to do with how many others know of the letter. Gloucester knows, of course. How many in his court know he wrote it? If it were destroyed, what might be said of its contents—that we were in agreement that I would support him?”

“I see.” Bell gnawed gently on his lower lip. “At least if you have the letter, you can prove that it was in fact, harmless. Only sympathy over the way the king cheated you by not naming you archbishop and a wish, if it is possible, to be your friend.”

Winchester’s lips twisted. “Not so harmless with those two thoughts together.” Then he shook his head. “I cannot believe it. I cannot believe that a common whore would be carrying a letter from Robert of Gloucester wound up in her breastband. And dead. Seated at my table in my bedchamber. Is it possible, Bell, that the woman was killed here just to make sure that there would be a scandal?”

“She was not killed here, my lord. I showed you the marks of the rope on your windowsill. The body was drawn up by a rope and whoever put her in the chair then went out the same window to escape. They came over the outside wall, too. This morning before I went to Magdalene’s I examined the wall around this house. Two horses were tied down at the far corner in the alley; they were grazing and there were hoof prints where the earth was soft. I also found signs on the wall where the men climbed over.”