A Mortal Bane(135)

“What happened?” Ypres asked. “Got a crazy story of a gang of thieves that came to rob the church and killed a monk while they were getting the plate. Did they get it all? I could help with a chalice and an offering dish.”

“It is not so bad as that,” Winchester said. “We do not actually know whether anything was taken. What we do know is that some of the pieces that were solid silver and gold have been replaced by plated copies.”

“Plated copies?” William repeated. “How can that be possible? The real piece would have had to be taken to whoever did the copying. I am no metalsmith, but if the plate of St. Mary Overy is anything like that of my church, it is ornate and could not be copied in a candlemark or two. Would not the sacristan have noticed that a piece was gone before the copy could be substituted?”

“I had not thought of that, but you are quite right, Lord William,” the bishop said.

“God have mercy on us!” The prior sighed as he got to his feet. “That means it must be someone in the priory, someone who would be able to remove the pieces, then return them while the goldsmith created the copies, and then bring the copies to replace the originals.”

Stepping up on the stool again to begin washing another section of the wall, Magdalene had to struggle to keep her expression indifferent. That William! He had turned so he could see both Winchester and the prior; his back was to the church. No one could seem less interested in the cleaning process or expect less that anything would come of it. Moreover, she suspected he had about as much interest in what had happened to the church plate as he had in what the monks would have for dinner. It was the subject of primary interest to the bishop and the prior, however, and one they would be unable to resist talking about and speculating over. And if that topic failed to keep their interest long enough, she was quite sure that William would have another one ready.

Fortunately, providing another topic was not necessary. Father Benin would not have noticed, but Winchester might well have smelled bad fish if William lingered after discussion of the theft ended. As she began to wash another strip of wall, Magdalene found herself mentally urging more speed and less scrupulous care on the part of the workers on the other side. Probably that had not the smallest effect; however, before the prior had fully described the discovery of the fakes, the novice washing the opposite wall moved his ladder beside the St. Christopher relief. He wrung out his cleaning cloth, climbed three rungs, and cried out with surprise that something was lodged between the Christ Child and His bearer.

Magdalene could have cheered when William only looked from the prior, who had been speaking, to Winchester. It was the bishop who turned swiftly, stepped down from the dais, and as he saw what the boy was drawing from the hollow behind the Christ Child, almost ran to the foot of the ladder. By then, everyone in the church had stopped work to look, and it was safe for Magdalene to turn and stare with the others.

The prior and William had followed Winchester and were beside him as he reached up to take the pouch from the boy’s hand. Winchester was staring at the complex knot of the cords that bound the pouch, and the prior bent his head toward it, too, sighing, “Sealed. It is still sealed.”

[page]Over their heads, William’s eyes met Magdalene’s for a brief, meaningful moment. Then he laid a hand on Winchester’s arm and asked, “Have we any right to open this? Should it not be taken to the king?”

“This is Church business,” Winchester replied immediately. “What has it to do with the king? If the archbishop—” He sounded as if he wished to spit, but his voice smoothed as he added, “—were here, it might be his right, but likely he is still in Rome—”