To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (33 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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Edgar only looked at her, waiting until she had put on her cloak and street shoes. Samonie cringed. His silences were much more frightening than another man’s raging.
They said nothing more during the walk to the felt maker’s. Just before they entered, Samonie turned to Edgar.
“I’ve told Martin only that I’m going to spend the night at his sister’s,” she said. “You won’t upset him, will you? Not before you have to.”
“I’ve no quarrel with Martin,” Edgar said. “Unless he’s helping you.”
“He didn’t even know about the man,” Samonie said. “He always sleeps like the dead. He never knew I was gone.”
Bodille and Willa were still up when they came in. They were surprised to see Samonie instead of Clemence.
“Master Edgar,” Willa began, “he didn’t come to your house, did he? We wouldn’t tell him where she was, even though he threatened to throttle Mistress Bodille.”
“Who?” Edgar said, thinking he should return home at once. “No one came to see us.”
“Shortly after you left,” Bodille told them, “a man came looking for Lady Clemence. He said he was her husband, but he didn’t look like a lord to me and you told us not to let anyone know she was
here. So we told him he had the wrong house and he finally went off.”
“What did he look like?” Edgar said.
“In his early twenties,” Willa answered. “Dark hair, Picard accent.”
“Lambert,” Edgar said. “Damn. Does either of you know where he went?”
The women shook their heads.
“If he should come back, send him to us,” Edgar ordered. “Lord or not, he really is her husband, and we have to find him.”
 
Solomon was having a quiet game of chess with his uncle when Edgar arrived.
“Come with me,” he said as he threw Solomon his cloak. “We’ve got to track down Jehan, Lambert and Samonie’s lover.”
“Her what?” Solomon said as he caught the cloak and swung it over his shoulders, knocking the pieces off the chessboard.
“No demons or ghosts in the house,” Edgar said. “Just Samonie sneaking out for a quick tumble.”
“You should have her whipped!” Hubert said as he gathered up the chessmen. “Leaving the house open to anyone!”
“I’m taking care of it,” Edgar said. “It’s nothing to do with you anymore.”
“Edgar!” Solomon protested as they went out.
Edgar rounded on him. “Hubert’s left us this mess,” he told Solomon. “He has no right to tell me what I should do.”
“Very well,” Solomon answered. “But would you mind telling
me
what we’re doing?”
“As soon as I decide,” Edgar said, as they stepped into the night.
 
At the house, Catherine had first made sure all the doors were barred and bolted. Then she told Martin to wait in the entry for Edgar to return. Finally, she, Margaret, and Clemence went up to the third floor, where the children and Margaret slept. James and Edana hopped up in front of them, totally unaware of the tension in their elders.
“I’ve brought all this trouble on your house,” Clemence said. “I’m so sorry.”
“My dear, the trouble was here long before you were born,” Catherine said wearily. “It’s because of us that Jehan took an interest in your husband. It’s Samonie I can’t believe. She must have bribed the guards to look the other way when she went out and in. But why? Is the man married? A priest? Has she said nothing to you, Margaret?”
“I knew she was worried about something,” Margaret said. “But I thought it had to do with Willa.”
“What about Willa?” Catherine asked.
“Haven’t you noticed? She’s not well.” Margaret sounded worried, herself. “She’s not pregnant, but her fluxes have stopped and she coughs all the time and she’s getting thinner and paler.”
Catherine stopped in mid-step. “Blessed Mother, forgive me. I saw but didn’t realize. Has she seen a leech?”
“Yes. The woman told her it was a wasting sickness and gave her some medicine, but it’s not working,” Margaret said.
“Poor Willa!” Catherine said. “And poor Samonie! She should have told us. Perhaps a
medicus
would know more. I’ll ask Maurice whom to go to.”
“I wonder if it’s the felt,” Clemence said. “I’ve been coughing since I got there, but I stopped once I was away from the house.”
“Felt?” Catherine said. “I don’t know. To be honest, I have no idea how the stuff is made, except that wet wool is pressed to make a thick cloth. Maybe standing in the water all day isn’t good for her.”
“But I didn’t stand in the water,” Clemence said. “There must be a foul humor in the air there, like at the tannery or the dyer’s.”
“I’ll go see her tomorrow,” Catherine said, “and have a long talk with Samonie. I don’t know what’s changed her so. She used to tell me everything.”
 
Bertulf waited until he heard Godfrey sneak out before he threw off his covers, revealing that he was not only still in shoes and belt, but also his mail shirt. He picked up his sword and buckler and held them carefully so that they didn’t make a sound as he followed his servant.
He thought he was the only one who had noticed Godfrey’s nightly peregrinations. However, as he left the preceptory, right behind him followed Brother Baudwin and Master Durand.
 
 
“First we’re going to question the wizard,” Edgar said. “He may know where Jehan lives, and, if not, he can tell us what sort of concoctions he’s been selling.”
“You mean that crazy old man who lives by the Biévre?” Solomon asked. “I thought only students and girls seeking love potions went to him.”
“And fools,” Edgar answered. “Do you remember Jehan from your childhood? Was he always so credulous?”
“I don’t know,” Solomon answered. “He was just another one of those brutes who rode around looking dangerous. He and Catherine’s uncle Roger seemed to be the loudest of them, but Aunt Johanna told me that knights skewered bad little Jewish boys at the end of their spears and roasted them, so mostly I just stayed clear of anyone in a mail shirt.”
The two men reached the hut mostly by feeling their way along the pitch-dark path. The sound of flowing water warned them when they had passed it.
“Odd that he doesn’t have a lamp,” Solomon commented. “You’d think he’d get most of his customers at night.”
They slipped over the mossy logs that surrounded the hut and finally found the door. When Edgar knocked, it creaked open.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Solomon said.
“Hallo!” Edgar called. “Wizard! Merda! I don’t even know if he has a name.”
“Edgar, if he were here, he’d have answered by now,” Solomon said. “This is hardly a five-level keep.”
“I wish we had a light,” Edgar swore again. “We should have brought a torch.”
“I’ll go fetch one,” Solomon offered. “Even better, let’s go together. Just in case he did conjure up a devil after all, and it devoured him.”
“Yes.” Edgar backed out. “Maybe you’re right. Can you find your way back to the main path?”
“Now that we know where the door is, I think so.”
Solomon felt for a space between the bushes and, hands out in front of him, started up toward the path.
“I think we’re almost to the place where we got lost going down,” he said after a moment. “I think the darkness is lighter up there. Just stay close behind … Ulp!”
Solomon tripped and fell over an obstacle, with Edgar landing on top of him. They both were immediatly aware that there was a third body present.
“Is that your leg?” Solomon asked.
“No. Is this your arm?”
“No.”
They gingerly got to their knees and felt the form of a man. He seemed to be merely very deeply asleep until something clanked against Edgar’s ring.
“What’s that?” Solomon’s voice came from the darkness.
“I’d say a knife,” Edgar said.
“Don’t cut yourself.”
“No fear of that.” Edgar grabbed for Solomon’s hand and guided it to the spot. “It seems to be fully sheathed in this man’s chest.”
Solomon paused to consider this. “How long do you think he’s been here?” he asked at last.
They both felt for the man’s skin. It was cold and stiffening.
“Get the torch, Solomon,” Edgar said. “We need to find out who this is.”
“I don’t suppose we’d be lucky enough to find it was Jehan,” Solomon grumbled as he left.
He was back soon with a lantern he had borrowed from a man using it to light his way to the privy.
“I have to return it by the time he’s finished,” he told Edgar. “Now.”
The light showed a face contorted more in anger than fear.
“The wizard,” both men said at once.
“Now what?” Solomon said.
“Well, the one who did it is likely long gone by now,” Edgar said. “I wish I could swear this is Jehan’s knife, but I don’t recognize it.”
“What do you think?” Solomon asked after a moment. “Do we go for the watch or head straight home and forget we ever had this little adventure?”
Edgar thought about it briefly. “I suppose the watch will want to know what we were doing down here.”
“We got lost on the way to the Blue Boar?” Solomon said. “It sounds feeble even to me.”
“Right,” Edgar got up. “Home it is.”
“You realize,” Solomon said, when they were well away, “if Catherine finds out about this, she’ll never let us hear the end of it.”
“Why, because we didn’t investigate further?”
“No,” Solomon answered. “Because this time we were the ones to trip over a body.”
 
Catherine got the girls and the little ones settled in for the night. She was amazed at how quickly Clemence fell asleep considering all the uncertainty in her life. It was as if she’d been sharing a bed with Margaret for years. When Catherine checked, the two were nestled together like baby birds sound asleep.
After checking all the doors and windows again and making Martin a mint-and-honey drink to help him stay awake, Catherine was still restless. She knew she couldn’t go to bed until Edgar was home again. But why was it taking him so long? Had he and Samonie been attacked? Could she have tried to run from him?
She sat at the top of the steps, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her hands. She was prepared to stay there until daybreak, if necessary.
The house was terribly quiet.
She could sense the door of the counting room behind her. It was shut and locked. So why did she keep thinking that she heard something rustling inside?
She was tired, she told herself, and prey to fancy. The ghost of the dead man must know they were doing all they could to find his name and that of his killer. And, if he were a member of the Knights of the Temple, then he must already be in heaven and not likely to haunt the place where he had lain. He hadn’t even died there. The sound was only a breeze in the rushes. Except there were no rushes in the counting room. Very well, then it was only her imagination.
“Catherine?”
Catherine’s shriek was enough to wake the entire household and topple Martin from the packing barrel where he had been dozing.
Catherine turned at the bottom of the stairs without remembering how she had arrived there. She put one hand over her heart to keep it from jumping out of her breast.
“Margaret!” she said. “Don’t ever do that again. Why are you up?”
“I forgot to fill the water pitcher.” Margaret held up the earthen jug. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Go back to bed, Margaret,” Catherine took the jug. “I’ll bring the water up.”
“Is my brother back, yet?” Margaret ignored her suggestion, following her out to the kitchen.
“No,” Catherine said as she poured water from the covered ewer on the table into the little pitcher. “I’m sure he’ll be soon. Here, take this. I’ll wait up. You need your sleep.”
Margaret seemed about to object, then yawned and, taking the pitcher, went back up to bed.
Catherine saw that Martin was now sitting alertly on his barrel, although his eyelids were tending to droop.
“It seems that Edgar and Solomon are staying the night somewhere else,” she told the boy. “Go on to bed.”
Gratefully, he went. That left Catherine the lone soul awake in the house. Determined not to let her fancies dominate her reason, she returned to the top of the stairs.
She heard no more noises from the counting room. As the night wore on and nothing more happened, she began to droop, herself. But something told her that she needed to be watchful.
“What’s the matter with me?” she said aloud. “Hours of quiet without interruption and all I can do is sit and stare at the wall?”

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