A Mortal Bane(158)

She expected Bell back, but he did not come and she wondered if the bishop had forgotten her and ordered Bell to accompany him. Well, it did not matter, she thought. She would be better off if he avoided her in the future. He had killed one man already, partly because of her, and she was afraid there would be more if he continued to desire her. Enough! She opened her eyes and got to her feet.

[page]“And where are you going, Mistress Magdalene?”

She smiled, a bit wryly when she realized that the time between his leaving with the bishop and his return was less than her eagerness for his return had made it seem. “I was going home to rest and to put on a clean gown. I do not want to frighten my clients by being covered with blood.”

“Sit down again. I will see if I can find a litter for you. I think—”

“No, thank you. I am quite well enough to walk, and I do not think anyone will object today if I go through the priory grounds, so it is not far.”

He watched her make her way slowly but steadily enough to the end of the table, then came and offered his arm. She hesitated momentarily, remembering that she really should not encourage him, and he dropped his arm and turned his face a little, almost as if she had slapped him.

“I am sorry I did not stop him before he was able to hurt you,” he said. “I have failed most thoroughly, for if not for you, Winchester would have died.”

All practical considerations flew away in the face of Bell’s pain. She hastily took another step toward him and took his hand. “Don’t talk so silly. How could you have guessed what Guiscard would do? I thought he would be enraged and go for the goldsmith, too, but he may have noticed Master Domenic when you brought him in and got over his first rage and terror. Likely he was planning what to do all the while Master Domenic and the bishop were talking.”

Bell sighed. “Perhaps. Still, I should have—” He shook his head, raised his arm, and placed her hand on it. “Are you sure this is support enough?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes. If I tire, we can stop in the churchyard….” Her voice drifted away. “I think we should stop. I would like to visit Messer Baldassare’s grave.”

“He is avenged,” Bell said through thinned lips as he steered her out of the bishop’s chamber and started through the hall. As they neared the outer door, he added, “The Church does not take blood vengeance, but I am no churchman.”

His voice was cold and hard, yet Magdalene felt a great lightening of her spirit. Yes, Bell had killed apurpose, and one reason had surely been because Guiscard had attacked her, but he would have done the same for the bishop or for any other person in danger. Moreover, the small injury done her could easily have been avenged—more than avenged—by whatever punishment the Church decreed for murder and Guiscard’s threat to the bishop. It was Baldassare ‘s death, not the attack, that had called for blood and made Bell tilt his knife at just the angle that would find Guiscard’s heart.

They spoke no more until they had passed through the priory gate—Brother Elwin, as she had predicted, only nodded at her as he opened for them—and into the graveyard. For a few moments more, they were silent, looking down at the wooden marker.

“The bishop is having a fitting gravestone carved,” Bell said softly. “There is a Latin verse praising Baldassare’s devotion to his duty.”

“It should praise his intelligence and good nature, too.” Magdalene raised a hand to wipe her eyes. “He was a good man, and a kind one. I know we are not supposed to question the will of God, but why? He did not die for any reason, just by the accident of coming into the church at the wrong time and because Beaumeis was too great a coward to call out. Perhaps if he had taken the pouch—”