A Mortal Bane(23)

“Mary have mercy on us,” Magdalene said in a failing voice. “That is the pope’s seal, and it is lead. This is a papal bull our guest was carrying. Oh, my God, we dare not destroy it.”

“A papal bull?” Sabina put out her hand and Magdalene brought it to the seal. The blind woman’s fingers touched it delicately. “Are these letters?”

“Yes. On one side is the name of the pope, on the other the faces of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.”

Feeling around the parchment packet, Sabina found the second document with its wax seal. “This is the same,” she said. “Is it also a bull?”

“No, the seal is not metal. Likely that is a letter.” Magdalene’s mouth twisted. “Doubtless an important one.”

Letice picked up the letter and drew her eating knife. Without actually touching it, she made signs of sliding the knife under the wax.

“It is almost certainly in Latin,” Magdalene said. “I will not be able to read it. Let me look at these first.” With the words, she took up the open letters. “Ah, this one is in French. It is a letter of credit on the goldsmith Basyngs and those associated with his house, authorizing Baldassare de Firenze to obtain from them a substantial sum of money.” She sighed. “His name was Baldassare de Firenze. How sad that I cannot tell anyone who he was.”

Letice touched the letter.

“No,” Magdalene said, setting it aside and taking up the second one. “There is no way we could use it, not without being hung for murder.” She unfolded the other, read some, nodded, and set that atop the first. “This one is also in French; it is a letter of introduction, asking in the pope’s name for any and all to give what help he needs to Baldassare de Firenze. That has been unfolded and used several times. The letter of credit has had less use.” She grimaced. “He must have been using the money in the pouch first.”

Now she reached in and drew the coins from the pouch and breathed a sigh of relief. They were good English pennies, showing a little wear but no clipping, and mixed in with them, two coins that glinted yellow. She picked them out and stared at them. Gold. No one used gold coin, but no doubt the papal treasury had some hoarded. Small as they were, they were heavy. Meant to be changed for silver by a goldsmith. She sighed and shook her head.

“They are of no use to us,” she said and slipped them back into the pouch.

“You be goin’ t’ drop gold in t’ river?” Dulcie asked, eyes round as saucers.

Magdalene looked at her. “No,” she said, loudly and clearly. “We cannot throw the pouch in the river. This” —she touched it— “is a bull from the pope. It is very important.”

[page]“To who?” Dulcie asked. “It’ll get us hung if we don’ be rid ‘f it.”

Magdalene bit her lip. Letice drew her knife again and pointed to the red-sealed letter. Magdalene wrung her hands for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, all right. Try to lift the seal, Letice. Maybe I will find a name, a few words that look familiar….”

A nerve-racking period followed while Letice found a thin enough and broad enough knife for her purpose. Then came the task of heating it evenly, bracing the letter, sliding the glowing blade under half the seal, easing the parchment out from under the knife while it still supported the seal. Half the time Magdalene found herself unable to look, but Letice was amazingly skilled. She had done this often before, Magdalene thought, as Letice signed to her to unfold the parchment while she eased the seal off the cooling blade so it would not stick and then slid the knife back to support the fragile wax. Because she is mute, Magdalene thought. Because her previous master had assumed she could never tell what she had done. They had used her to remove seals, and perhaps to affix them on different documents.