A Mortal Bane(110)

Perhaps she could find out. Magdalene sighed heavily, exaggeratedly. “Another one looking for the lost pouch! I will try to answer all your questions at once. Yes, I believe Messer Baldassare was wearing a pouch, although I did not see it clearly, and no, he did not leave it here. The bishop’s knight searched high and low for it. I am glad we dust our rafters and wash the back of our shelves because there was no spot from cellar to attic into which he did not pry.”

The man laughed too heartily. “I did not come for the papal messenger’s pouch. I did not know anything about it before you mentioned it. But I am curious about why he stopped here and what he said.”

So she told him of Beaumeis’s mischief and then said, “Excuse me,” and went down on her knees. “Pins are costly.” And when she found it, she rose and began to fold the cloth.

“Will that not smear your design?” the man asked, as if eager to change the subject. “It is only drawn in charcoal and cannot last long.”

Magdalene was not sorry to change the subject herself; she had thought of another way to pursue her purpose. “If I do not rub the cloth, the lines will remain, and it does not matter if it does not last. It is only to show the design to the bishop.”

The deliberate untruth got an immediate reaction. “To the bishop,” he repeated sharply. “I did not know you were familiar with the bishop.”

“I am not familiar with him, but my lord of Winchester has some hope of redeeming me. Thus, since I am a good embroideress, he is generous enough to provide work so I will not need to resort to whoring to fill my belly. I am very glad of his commission and wish to show him my design for an altar cloth for his chapel tomorrow.”

Magdalene could almost see a sharp command rise to his lips; she certainly saw the effort it took to swallow it back and speak gently.

“Ah, I would prefer if you did not mention that one of his Household recommended this place to me. Winchester might not understand. I would not want to make trouble for my friend.”

But he had hidden his colors and badge from the “friend,” or was it from the others in the bishop’s Household? Could his friend be carrying tales to…to whom? Winchester had many enemies. Magdalene could not take time to think about it; she needed to reply. She shook her head.

“We will talk about the altar cloth, not about the business of this house,” she assured him. “Lord Winchester never asks unless there is trouble. I could not lie to the bishop, but I can promise I will give him no reason to ask about you.”

She took the cloth and laid it on a shelf where it would be safe and was about to ask if he would like another cup of ale when Ella came back into the room. After a few exchanges, which left the man grinning, they went off together.

Magdalene immediately took the pitcher of ale back to the kitchen. The bathing room was just the other side of the kitchen and she would hear easily if Ella screamed. Although there were no untoward sounds from the bathing room, the longer she puttered about, the lower her heart sank. She was sure that Dulcie had had time enough to walk to the bishop’s house, give Bell the message, and walk back with him. Either he was not there or he would not come.

She jumped with tension when she heard a door open, quickly turned her back, and bent over the fire to hide her face. But her breathing eased when she heard a familiar voice say, “Why not? I would be good to you, Sabina, you know that. Is it because of my looks?”

“My dear Master Mainard, you know that cannot be true. I cannot see your looks, and your voice tells me you look good and kind. I am always glad to hear you come and sorry when you go. I would be happy if you came more often and stayed longer. Indeed, if it is a question of the cost that prevents you, I could take less—”