A Mortal Bane(13)

Letice sat down beside Sabina and put an arm around her, but with the other hand she pointed toward where the stable was, then cupped her hand and blew into it.

“Yes,” Magdalene said. “As Letice points out, even if you sacrificed yourself, you silly girl, the horse would not disappear into thin air. It would still be in our stable.” She stared at the floor for a moment, then said, “Letice, go wake Dulcie. She will have to stay with Sabina while you and I move the horse.”

[page]Between signs and words repeated several times, though not so loudly as to wake Ella, the situation was explained to the maid. Dulcie did not seem surprised or frightened, and Magdalene suddenly wondered if the cookhouse she had come from was in a place where dead bodies were not uncommon. The question seemed answered as Dulcie calmly examined Sabina’s clothes and said they would need washing or the stains Letice’s wiping could not remove might set. Not to worry, she said to Magdalene, she would make sure no one knew she was washing clothes. The garments would soak well under pots and dishes, and dry hidden behind herbs near the fireplace. Then she gave the half-fainting girl a rough hug and led her away toward her room.

One problem solved. Magdalene told Letice to put on shoes and take a cloak, and followed that advice herself. Then she found a dark lantern on the bottom shelf. She lit it, but the thread of moon and starlight was enough and they did not need it to find the stable. Carefully closing the door, Magdalene unshuttered the lantern completely and then stood stock-still, staring openmouthed at the disorder.

The horse was there, calmly lipping up some of the oats that had fallen from the bin in which they were stored. Clearly, someone had been searching through the feed for something hidden beneath it. Around the beast’s feet was fresh hay strewn from bales broken when they had been tossed here and there. The saddle was hanging half off the rack on which it had originally been placed, and the saddlebags now lay on the ground open, their contents scattered over the floor.

“Oh, heaven,” Magdalene whispered, raising the lantern and looking around. ‘The murderer must have been here searching for….”

Letice cocked her head on the side.

“For what?” Magdalene asked the question aloud for her in case she had guessed wrong, and when Letice nodded, answered it. “I have no idea. I wonder if…no, this is no time for wondering. Let us gather up everything that belongs in the saddlebags and rid ourselves of this sign of guilt.”

As Letice gathered, Magdalene stowed as neatly as she could manage, although her hands began to shake from time to time. She did not waste any effort over excessive neatness however, partly because she did not know how neat the guest had been but more because she wanted the bags to seem to have been searched. When she had closed them and was about to lift the saddle to the horse’s back, Letice stopped her, pointed to the horse, and made an arch with her hands. Then she walked the fingers of the left hand into the half arch that her right hand maintained and showed them getting stuck.

“You are right,” Magdalene said. “I think we can get the horse through the gate, but certainly not wearing the saddle. You will have to carry the saddle while I lead the horse.”

It was strange, Magdalene thought as she slipped the bit between the animal’s teeth and fastened it to the halter, how everything tonight conspired to bring back memories of her life as Arabel de St. Foi. First the blood…. She pushed that thought away. And now the more pleasant memories of being mistress of her own small farm, of saddling and riding, dealing with horses….

Silly beasts, she thought affectionately, so beautiful but so brainless. Everything frightened them. She paused as she was about to set the lantern down in a clear corner and close its shutters so she could open the stable doors. It would be hard to persuade a horse to pass through that low, narrow gate, especially in silence. It might balk or whinny. Magdalene bit her lip and then unwound the scarf that she had automatically used to cover her wealth of honey-gold hair. What a horse could not see would not cause it to balk. With soothing words and slow motions, she put the scarf over the horse’s head so that its eyes were covered.