A Mortal Bane(117)

“Why bring him to us?” Somer asked irritably. “Surely—”

“If you will forgive me, I had rather tell the tale once, and where there are fewer ears to hear it.”

“That way, is it?” Somer said, eyes narrowing. “William said if you came without his summons, it would be trouble.” He moved to the side of the cart to help Magdalene down and gestured toward the guard at the door. “It’s all right. The lord wants to see her,” he said and then told Magdalene, “The stair is just within, against the side of the building. Go up. He’s waiting for you.”

Magdalene shielded her face again, but she was uneasy about whether Somer and Bell would rub each other wrong and hesitated by the door. However, it was not Somer who raised Bell’s hackles, and Magdalene soon entered the building. The hall was rather overfull of armed men, but only one or two glanced at her and, seeing a woman, looked away. Nonetheless, she was glad to get up the stair. The door was open, but she called from the landing.

“Come in, chick,” William said.

He was wearing worn leathers under a sumptuous surcoat. Worried as she was, Magdalene could not help smiling. It was typical of William to dress for safety—the leather over a light gambeson would turn a knife and even protect against all but the most direct and violent sword blow—and at the same time dress for show, because the surcoat could be pulled together to impress an important visitor. He seemed to be lounging at ease in a large chair with arms as well as a back, positioned comfortably near a stone hearth in the middle of the room, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

Magdalene went forward quickly, unwinding her veil and draping it loosely over her shoulders. “I am sorry to bring trouble to you,” she said, coming close to the chair as he beckoned.

He gripped her around the waist and pulled her down so he could kiss her. “What else does anyone ever bring me?” he asked and laughed. “At least you are pretty to look at.”

But he let her go quickly and stood up when the sound of heavy footsteps and heavy breathing came up the stairwell. Bell and Somer struggled into the room and to within a couple of arm’s lengths of William before they deposited their burden on his bound feet. Somer continued to steady the man, who had been writhing as they carried him across the floor but seemed to realize that resistance was futile when they set him on his feet, and Bell pulled down the hood of the cloak and removed first the blindfold and then the gag.

“Raoul de Samur!” Somer exclaimed.

[page]“You know him?” William asked.

“We are acquainted,” Somer replied. “He was friendly with Henry of Essex and Camville and a few others in the king’s Household, but I do not think he had any appointment.”

“The king’s Household?” Bell echoed. ‘Then why does he carry a cinquefoil badge on a red-and-white ribbon in his purse? The king’s badge is a lion with blue and gold.”

William of Ypres’s eyes went to Bell, and Magdalene said quickly, “Sir Bellamy of Itchen, the Bishop of Winchester’s knight. I sent for him when I realized this man, Sir Raoul, if Somer says so—intended to force his way into my house will I, nil I. Sir Bellamy lodges near the bishop’s house, just around the street from us, so Dulcie could reach him quickly. You were too far away.”

William had started to look offended when she said she had sent for Bell, but as she well knew, he did not really care deeply enough to reject a reasonable explanation. He nodded brusquely, but his attention was still on the man his occasional bedmate favored. Bell had now met Ypres’s eyes. Magdalene held her breath and, at the same time had to fight against an impulse to giggle. Their expressions reminded her vividly of two dogs, bristles up, circling. But it was not in the least funny, really.