A Mortal Bane(123)

“Panic can take the place of courage,” Bell said and then stated his belief that Baldassare had recognized Beaumeis and divined his purpose, further explaining that Beaumeis would have been ruined and the archbishop besmirched. He told Winchester of Beaumeis’s lie to Buchuinte about needing to leave for Canterbury, that William of Ypres’s men had found no sign of him along that road on Wednesday, the fact that Brother Godwine had seen him in the priory at Vespers and possibly later, and the man’s violent reaction to Baldassare’s burial.

“Well, I cannot say I will be sorry if he is guilty,” Winchester said. “But if he got the pouch, he will have destroyed anything that would benefit me, so I suppose I will have to write to the pope and tell him—”

“Not yet, my lord, if a few days will not matter. I have not yet been able to lay hands on Beaumeis, although I have been to St. Paul’s several times. He has not appeared there to take up his duties.”

Winchester laughed shortly. “He has no duties. The bishop of the diocese must confirm his appointment—and as the acting administrator of the London diocese, I am not likely to do that. Perhaps when Theobald returns to England. Beaumeis can persuade him to confirm him.” He bit his lip. “Could that fool have believed I would use the legatine power to override the archbishop’s confirmation of his appointment and wanted to steal the bull to prevent that?” He laughed aloud, then sighed. “It would be a tragedy if Baldassare died because a stupid man believed me so small-minded.”

“I hope not,” Bell said, “but I am glad you told me he is not yet a deacon of St. Paul’s. I will not waste my men’s time watching the cathedral. I will just set a watch on his lodging. Meanwhile, because Waleran and his brother seem to believe Baldassare’s pouch is in the Old Priory Guesthouse or that the women there know where it is, I will be lodging with them.”

Winchester raised his brows again and smiled. “I see my warning has fallen on deaf ears.”

Bell laughed. “No, you are quite right that she is tied most firmly to William of Ypres’s purposes, but in this case, I cannot see that his purpose is different from ours. And I am not, much as I would like it, lodging in Magdalene’s bed.”

Winchester’s frown returned. “I would not wish openly to cross Waleran or Hugh. They seek for causes of irritation and insult to report to the king.”

“I am sure they will know nothing about what happened to the man who came to Magdalene’s house. Ypres will take care of that.”

“Very well.” Winchester shrugged. “If you think it necessary to lodge there, be sure to let Robert or Guiscard know where to find you.”

Bell tensed to rise, but the bishop did not dismiss him, sitting quietly, his brow furrowed with thought. Finally he said, “Beaumeis…how I would like that…but it is known how little I love him. We will need to close all the doors through which he might try to escape.”

“I am aware, my lord,” Bell said. “I have set inquiries and found assurances that all but one or two of Magdalene’s noble clients could not have been the killer. There are a few men of the city—Baldassare’s friend Buchuinte, for one—who are not yet cleared, but when I lay hands on Beaumeis, I will know better what his excuses will be and how to counter them.”

Bell was back at Magdalene’s house in time for dinner, which he shared with the women. When the bell rang for the first client, he retired to his own chamber, leaving the door open so he could respond to any emergency. None occurred. When the men were all settled, he came out and spent a very pleasant afternoon idling in Magdalene’s company. He retreated again when the men started to leave and the second set of clients arrived, among whom was Buchuinte. He came in full of a double outrage. Tuesday morning his servant had complained of being questioned about what time Buchuinte had come home on Wednesday night, and later that day, when he was at a guild meeting, his house had been invaded and most thoroughly searched.