A Mortal Bane(26)

While they had been speaking, Letice had refolded the letter, supporting the seal with the blade. Magdalene turned to watch as she laid down the knife and fetched one of the special, fine beeswax candles a client had brought. She carved some thin curls from the bottom onto the spot on the letter from which the seal had been raised. Seeing what she was about, Magdalene fetched a spill, lit it at the fire, then lit the candle. With lips set hard, Letice held the candle so the flame would pass over the wax shavings. Hardly breathing now, she slid the knife free and, most delicately, applied the flame to the bottom of the seal, lowering it back onto the parchment as it warmed. Very carefully, very gently, she pressed down on the edge until the soft seal and the soft wax bonded to the parchment. The pressure also spread the edge of the seal a tiny bit, so that it covered any small smear of wax that might have been made by the original lifting. When the wax had cooled hard, she took a deep breath and held out the letter.

“I can hardly believe we had that open,” Magdalene said, examining it carefully. “And I doubt anyone will look as carefully at it as I did. Will it hold?”

Letice raised her hands and then nodded.

[page]“Likely it will, she thinks.” Dulcie voiced what Letice would have said if she could. “'Nd if nothin’ else don’ look wrong ‘nd th’ purse be in th’ church, not far from where th’ poor man be kilt, it don’ matter much. Them as finds it’ll think stuffin’ it in th’ hole there did th’ damage.”

Magdalene took another ten pennies and added them to the gold coins in the bottom of the purse, then replaced the bull, the king’s letter, the letter of credit, and on top of the others, the letter of introduction.

“I think that will look right,” she said. “The letter he used most is in front, the most precious at the back where he could not pull it out by accident. The fact that the gold and a good sum in silver are there will mean to most that we did not open the pouch. Who would believe that a whore would not take gold, or clean out every scrap of silver?”

She took up the cords that tied the pouch and pulled them until the smooth parts, which had not been part of the knot, matched. Then slowly, carefully, making sure that every bend in the cord folded into the new knot, she wove the knot anew. When it was tied, she examined it front and back, Dulcie and Letice examined it front and back, and Sabina ran her sensitive fingers over the cord and the knot.

“It is smooth,” she said. “I cannot feel any place where the cord feels crimped, nor any uneven spot on the knot itself.”

“I’d swear that were never touched,” Dulcie confirmed, and so did Letice with a nod. “I’ll go get me cleanin’ rags now. Sooner that be out o’ here, th’ better.”

All the woman heaved a sigh of relief when Dulcie had packed the pouch into the basket with her sand and ash and straw and rags. Unfortunately, they had relaxed too soon. In only a few moments, Dulcie was back.

“Can’t open the gate,” she reported. “'Tis locked, it is. Latch goes up and down, but th’ gate don’ move.”

“It must be stuck,” Magdalene said.

Dulcie shook her head. “I be no weakling, ‘nd I pushed hard.”

They all stared at her, dumbfound. The gate had been locked when they first moved into the house because the previous renter had run an ordinary stew. There had been noise and brawls, and the women had displayed themselves in unseemly ways, even coupling in the garden, which could be seen from the windows of the second-floor dorter. Henry of Winchester had ordered them out.

On the way to Oxford in company with William of Ypres, an old friend, he had complained about the outrage. When William arrived in Oxford, he had repaired to his favorite house of ease, only to have Magdalene ask her most powerful patron to vouch for her as being honest and discreet so she could rent a larger house. William quickly put two and two together, decided that having Magdalene in London would be more convenient for him, and suggested to Winchester that he offer the now-vacant house to Magdalene la Batarde, his favorite whore mistress. She would pay the exorbitant rent, William assured the bishop, and she and her women passed as embroiderers and would not offend.