Roberta Gellis (7 page)

“What! Another who wanted Bertrild dead?”

“I do not think Codi could have killed her, although—” Sabina bit her lip, then said, “You must promise not to tell anyone this, but it was Codi’s knife that killed her. Mainard found it when he went to look at the body, and he brought it in and cleaned it—”

“Does the man have a death wish?” Magdalene cried. “Is he trying to make himself look guilty?”

“No,” Sabina said indignantly. “He simply does not believe Codi could have done it.” She sighed. “You must know Codi before you understand.”

“Very well, love. For now I will take your trust and Mainard’s for truth. So, from what you have said, Bertrild left the shop making threats to Codi, but she was alive and well. How did she come to be dead?”

“I do not know,” Sabina breathed. “I told you that Mainard and I went to Pers Newelyne’s son’s christening. We were there all day. It was a very happy party. Poor Pers had three daughters before this son came, and the babe is large and strong. His wife is well also. Thus we were all very merry, and I was called to sing and play many times, which I did gladly. We did not leave, Mainard and I, until it was dusk. Indeed, Pers gave Mainard a torch to light our way.”

“He will remember that. Good. The house was quiet when you returned to it?”

“Yes, it was full dark by then. Pers house is all the way north in the West Chepe, and we were very full of food, and Mainard had, perhaps, a cup or two of wine too many. We had to sit down for a while on a bench outside an alehouse, and we were stopped twice by the Watch in different wards and had to explain ourselves. Fortunately the first knew about Pers’s christening party, and the second recognized Mainard. But we were very late coming home.”

“That is all to the good. The Watchmen will remember you also. And that will be proof of what time you came home. No one was waiting up for you?”

“No, they would not. Codi closes the door to the workroom where he and the boys sleep whenever Mainard stays the night so that, if Bertrild should ask—” she hesitated, swallowed, and went on, “they could say truthfully that Mainard slept on the pallet behind the counter in the shop, where they would find him in the morning.”

Magdalene sighed. “That is not so good, but I suppose he did not really sleep there.”

“No.” Sabina smiled. “He came up with me, of course, and slept in my bed. We were awake for some time longer. What with all the wine he had taken, he was a little slow to rouse and that frightens him because—well, you know Bertrild had virtually gelded him. I had to work to make him ready.” She stopped and her lips set suddenly. “That is how I know he could not have killed Bertrild,” she added angrily. “He was with me from before noon until near dawn.”

“He left you then?”

“Yes, but he could not have killed Bertrild after he left me,” Sabina protested.

“Why not?”

“Because the blood on her was all brown and dry.”

“How could you know that?” Magdalene asked, astonished.

Sabina licked her lips. “Because the blood on the knife was dry and hard.” She hesitated, but continued, her voice soft and steady. “It was not Mainard who cleaned the knife. I had come down when I heard what Gisel was yelling to wake Mainard, and when he came back from the yard, Codi was weeping and Mainard was at his wit’s end. When I understood why they were so overset, I said to give me the knife, and I cleaned it.”

There was a moment of silence, then Magdalene asked, “He did not leave you at any other time? After all that drinking, surely he needed to piss.”

Sabina’s head reared up. “He used the chamber pot, as did I. Are you trying to find him guilty, too?”

“Do not be silly. These are questions that will be asked by less friendly folk than I. I must know what is marshalled against your man before I can think how to order my own troops—”

Magdalene stopped and considered what she had said. It was a phrase borrowed from William of Ypres, the leader of the king’s mercenary forces and her oldest and most powerful patron. Lord William was the man to whom she would ordinarily go for help, but William was not at Rochester taking his ease and spoiling for amusement. If he was not already in Oxford, he was preparing to meet the king there. Friendship or no friendship, William was not going to be late in attending on the king to help her save a whore’s lover from a charge of murder. But she needed— Ah! Before he had lost his temper and called her “whore,” Bell had mentioned that the bishop of Winchester was not going to Oxford, which meant that Bell would not go either. She drew in a deep breath.

“Yes,” she said, “that is what we need, troops. Sit still, love.” She patted Sabina’s hand and stood up. I am going to send Dulcie to get Bell.”

Fortunately, Sir Bellamy had little enough to do on a Sunday after he had attended Mass. Dulcie found him at the bishop’s house, idling among the clerks and men-at-arms, and he was immediately ready to come back with her. He was a little troubled, thinking that Diot had transgressed in some fatal way, and he would be asked either to expel her from the house or to have her punished.

Dulcie
was able to remove that anxiety, but she had no idea about why he was wanted, which allowed him to indulge himself in believing that Magdalene had missed him enough to summon him. At least he could indulge himself for as long as it took to walk past the priory gate into the priory grounds, across the length of St. Mary Overy Church, to the gate in the wall (always invitingly open so those who sinned in the Old Priory Guesthouse could come to the church and confess), through Magdalene’s garden, and in the back door.

As soon as he came down the corridor into the common room, he saw Sabina, her face blotched and her nose reddened with tears, which somehow squeezed themselves out under her sealed eyelids. Although he had never touched any of Magdalene’s whores (he was holding out for Magdalene herself), he was fond of them all, particularly of the soft-spoken and gentle Sabina, who had done what he wanted Magdalene to do—given up whoring for love of a man. Sabina’s present condition could scarcely be an inducement for Magdalene to follow her example, however, and Bell strode forward, furious with Mainard who, he believed, had caused the gentle whore’s distress.

“What has happened, Sabina, love?” he asked, trying to keep anger out of his voice.

“Mainard’s wife is dead…. Murdered,” she said.

“Oh, good Lord!” Bell exclaimed, dropping down on the bench beside Magdalene. After another moment, he said, “She surely wanted killing, and with the evidence he can bring it maybe that he can escape with ‘justifiable homicide,’ but I am not sure what I can do to help him.”

Magdalene turned her head to stare at him, but he did not notice. She thought bitterly that if a woman nags at and berates a man, and he kills her—that is justifiable homicide. But if a man berates a woman, abuses her, beats her, threatens to mutilate her, and she kills him—that is murder.

Bell might have noticed the fixed, angry eyes had not Sabina cried, “He did not do it!”

His attention fixed on her, and Magdalene, having controlled a feeling she could not explain without breaking open a long-hidden grave, nodded and said calmly, “You had better listen to what she says.”

After the tale was retold and he had made almost the same comments as Magdalene about Pers Newelyne and the Watch, he looked from Sabina to Magdalene and lifted a questioning brow. Magdalene gave a barely perceptible shrug, indicating that she was no surer than he that Sabina was not lying for love about the blood being hard on the knife and that Mainard had never left her bed until dawn.

“I can do no more with hearsay,” he said. “I must go look at the body, if it is not yet washed and shrouded, or speak to the brothers if it is. I must look at the place where the body was found….”

Sabina stood up immediately. “Haesel!” she called.

The child came from the kitchen at once, chewing on a piece of unbaked pastry and giggling, probably at something Ella had said or done. Magdalene smiled at her, recalling the pathetic scrap of skin and bones, shivering with terror, that Sabina had brought to show them only a month ago. Bell had got up when Haesel appeared and Sabina took in hand the staff Letice had fetched for her. Now Magdalene got to her feet also.

“I think I will go along with you,” she said thoughtfully. “If you tell me what questions you want asked, Bell, I will try to get answers from the apprentices and possibly from Codi, too. They will be less frightened of me than of you, and Sunday is quiet here.” She turned toward the hearth. “Diot—

The new woman rose nervously to her feet, clasping her hands before her. Magdalene smiled at her.

“As you know, we have no regular appointments on Sunday, but sometimes a client finds himself with some free hours and wishes to spend them here, or someone passing through might stop. If the man is known to Dulcie, take his money and let him go with Ella or take him yourself, unless he is Letice’s client. If she is still here, and he asks specially for her, ask if she will see him. Usually she goes to where her countryfolk gather on Sunday. If it is someone new, you may use your judgment as to whether it is safe to let him in…and make sure he pays ahead of time.”

Diot flushed a little—her white skin readily showed her emotions. She was aware that she was being given this chance to show whether she could manage, partly because of the other women’s disabilities and partly because she could do little damage on Sunday. Nonetheless, she was delighted and grateful. Sabina was as disabled as the others.

“I will do my best, Magdalene.”

“Thank you,” Magdalene said, and went to get her veil, which she draped over her head to cover her hair and raised one end to hold across her face.

Haesel led Sabina, and Bell fell in behind with Magdalene. “Diot seems to have jumped high in your estimation,” he said.

“So far I am better pleased than I expected to be,” she agreed. “If she continues as she has begun, you will have brought me a treasure.”

“Now that she does not look so gaunt and haunted, she is even more beautiful.”

“Yes, but that is less important than her honesty and her manner. Leaving her in charge was something of another test, to see how she behaves when I am gone. Letice and Dulcie will watch her. Of course, she is still very new and the memory of Stav’s stew is still clear in her mind. I am concerned mostly about the future, about whether she will grow abusive or try to swindle or steal from the clients when that memory dims.”

“The men like her?”

“Yes, they do. She is very clever and seems able to judge just what will please them best, sometimes in despite of what they say they desire. One man, and he is not the most generous of souls, left her a whole shilling! He said she had given him the wildest ride he had ever had, yet he had chosen Sabina, he said for her gentleness.”

Bell shrugged. “Different night. Different desires.” He looked sidelong at her. “If Diot is satisfactory, I hope you will find no other excuses for—”

“I do not need excuses. Whoring is my business.” Her voice was sharp, but she caught his hand as his jaw set. “You must believe me, Bell. I swear it is for your own good. If you think of me as ‘your’ woman, disaster
must
follow.”

“Why?” he asked stubbornly.

She sighed. “Because I have been a whore for ten years. I cannot wipe that out. You cannot wipe that out. I am an honest woman and a good and loyal friend— William will tell you that.” She laughed. “Many men will tell you that.”

He winced, and she laughed again. She squeezed the hand she held.

“That is why it would be a disaster. Think about it, Bell. Think about accepting me as I am for what I am.”

“Master Mainard seems content with a retired whore,” he snapped back. Then his lips twisted. “Perhaps content enough to want to be rid of his wife.”

Since they had arrived at the bridge, neither said any more until they had passed through the crush generated by the shops, the customers, and the peddlers. When they had turned up Gracechurch Street, Bell, who had not forgotten what he had said, increased his pace until he could walk beside Sabina.

“Have you been happy with Master Mainard?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed softly. “He is so good to me. He is so good a man! You cannot imagine the good he has done.” Her mouth hardened. “That stupid Bertrild! She threatened Codi that she would send him back to his master, but he knew she could not. Because Mainard did not want Codi to feel trapped, he had explained to him that once he lived as a free man for a year and a day, his bonding as a serf was ended. He could live free anywhere and take any employment he wished.”

“Then Codi had no reason to kill her. You know, Sabina, it is Mainard who had the best reasons to wish her dead.”

“And I,” Sabina said stoutly. “I told you I wanted to kill her.”

“Because you expected Master Mainard to marry you?”

“Marry me?” She turned her face toward him, astonishment showing in her voice and every line of her body, even though her eyes could not open in amazement. “Why would Mainard want to marry me? I was a whore.”

Bell winced, but he was not touching Sabina and she remained unaware that she had pricked him in a sore spot.

“I think he loves me and will keep me,” she continued, “but that has nothing to do with marriage. I am sure that if he marries again, it will be to a woman of fine reputation about whose children no jests will be made.”

“You will not mind if he marries again?” Bell asked.

Sabina was silent for a long moment, turning her face forward as if she could see where she was going. Then she sighed. “Yes, I will care,” she said very softly. “I love him, and it will grieve me that he beds another woman, even if it be only to make children.” She sighed again. “And it will not be only that. If she will welcome him, Mainard will love her. He is gentle and needs love and so returns it readily. And it is his right to have children.” She squared her shoulders. “I can always go back to Magdalene.”

“Then perhaps you did not really want Bertrild dead?”