A Mortal Bane(157)

He would not ask a whore to loosen the neck of her gown, Magdalene thought, suppressing a smile. But at least he had been willing to treat her. Still, he was quick to turn away, gathering up the bandages and another small pot, which he put into a leather bag, and walking around the end of the table. When his bulk no longer blocked the bishop’s view of her, Winchester turned in her direction.

“You saved my life, Magdalene,” he said, “at some risk to your own. I am very grateful. But why?”

“Because you are wilting to be grateful to a whore, my lord,” she said, and smiled.

He laughed. “And how am I to reward you for so great a service?”

Magdalene shrugged. “In a sense, you owe me nothing. I am afraid I did not think so much of your life, my lord, as of how much harder my own would be without you. Nor do I really remember thinking clearly that I would do this thing. I—I just did it.”

Winchester stared at her for a moment, then said, “I do not like a sense of obligation hanging over my head.”

She laughed and shrugged again. “If you feel so, my lord, then money is always useful to a whore. The more I have, the closer is the day when I can leave my work.”

“Ah, you should not have said that.” Winchester shook his head, but he was smiling. “It might make me parsimonious. Not for greed, at least not mostly for greed, but because I am not so sure that I want you to leave the Old Priory Guesthouse.” He sighed ostentatiously. “However, I know it is a sin for a churchman not to try to wean a whore from her lechery, and I owe you for a great increase in the prior’s peace of mind also.”

“The prior?” Magdalene repeated, surprise giving her a small spurt of strength, which permitted her to keep her eyes open and not sag back against the wall.

The bishop struggled with his mouth and kept himself from grinning. “The prior will be rid of the sacristan, who is much chastened. This day has finally hammered home to Brother Paulinus that his hatred of you and your work has led him to excess and to misuse of his power as sacristan. He has requested permission to give up his place to Brother Boniface and go back to the mother house to restore his soul.”

“Brother Boniface?” she breathed, and then bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Brother Boniface was as much the opposite of Brother Paulinus as a monk could be. Although he loved the buildings of the priory and would see to their welfare devotedly, he was round and jolly and one of the few monks who was an occasional patron of her house. She had sense enough, however, to look down and say no more, hoping the bishop would not realize she knew Brother Boniface. And at last she was able to yield openly to the exhaustion that was turning her bones to water. Sighing, she allowed herself to fall back against the wall and close her eyes.

“She needs to go home and rest, my lord,” Bell said.

Winchester nodded. “Yes. I would like to go above and rest myself, but I must reconsecrate the church.” He sighed. “I think I will need my litter to get there.”

Bell smiled. “At least you will sit in it alone, without a knife at your throat. I was getting so desperate I was wondering if I could thrust my sword in and skewer Guiscard without giving him time to skewer you. I’ll go and tell the men now.”

Magdalene simply sat, hoping the bishop would not speak again. He did not, and slowly the aches and tremblings of her body that resulted from the shock eased away. At first the fading of her reaction left her even weaker and more flaccid, but by the time she heard the sound of Bell’s footsteps returning, she was already feeling better. Nonetheless, she continued to sit with closed eyes, leaning back against the wall as Bell helped the bishop to his feet and, she assumed, lent him a strong arm to lean on as they made their way to the litter.