A Mortal Bane(29)

A robed figure carrying a tallow taper had entered from the south door, which connected through a chapel and a short passage to the monastery. Magdalene clasped her hands and bowed her head, thanking God that they were well away from the Saint Christopher. Even so, if they were found and the pouch was also found in the next day or two, it would not take Brother Paulinus long to put two and two together and insist they had brought the pouch to the church.

The monk did not bother to look down the nave, however. He hurried from the doorway to the center of the chancel and then walked into the apse. When he was close to the altar, he paused and removed from the breast of his robe an object that glittered faintly, which he lifted, admiring it. Magdalene saw that it was a handsome silver candlestick. Then he walked around to the back of the altar, where he knelt.

Magdalene could see nothing more. Mentally, she groaned. If the monk had come to perform a penance, or even to pray over self-perceived sins, they might be there for hours. But he was not praying. In only a few moments the monk reappeared, no longer carrying the candlestick. Relief nearly brought self-betrayal as Magdalene fought not to giggle. Idiot that she was. Plainly, the monk had come to return the candlestick to its storage place under the altar. Even as she thought it, he made his way toward the door, where the light suddenly went out and she heard the soft click of the latch.

Dulcie jumped to her feet and pulled at Magdalene, who had hesitated, breathing a prayer of thanks to the Mother of God. She smiled as she rose, thinking that perhaps being a whore was less offensive to Mary, the only woman who had ever conceived without carnal union with a man, than to her holier-than-thou disciple. Mary knew the heart, and in this case at least, Magdalene knew her heart was pure.

Not long after, the gate relocked behind them, she and Dulcie were safe inside the house. Magdalene was ready to drop and desired only her bed, but Letice and Sabina, who had been waiting anxiously, had to be told what had happened. Letice only signed that she was glad they got away.

Sabina sniffed. “I thought monks were supposed to keep regular hours,” she said, her voice querulous. “It seems to me that they are always walking about, looking for mischief.”

At the time, Magdalene was too tired to want to inquire into what Sabina meant, and she only suggested that everyone go to bed. She got no arguments; the fears and tensions of the day had worn on them all. For herself, Magdalene fell asleep the moment her clothing was off and she crawled into bed. She did not sleep peacefully, however; memories of the dead man, of the sacristan’s threats, and of Sabina’s last remark worked on her.





21 April 1139





The Bishop of Winchester’s House



Magdalene woke the next morning determined to avenge Baldassare de Firenze and prove she and her women were innocent of murder. To take the easiest question first, Magdalene asked Sabina what she had meant by monks wandering about.

“When I went to pray that night,” Sabina said, not identifying the time more closely because Ella was sitting at the edge of the bench occupied by Letice, who was cutting up her food for her, “I heard a monk cry out, ‘Who is there?’ and I had to wait before going into the church. I told you that.”

“Likely you did, love, but all I heard was the bad news. Do you mean some monk was near the door of the north porch when you found it?” Magdalene asked.

“Found what?” Ella asked, sidling up close to Letice as soon as she put down the knife she had been using. “Was it nice?”

“No,” Sabina said, swallowing. “It was not nice at all, which was why I left it there and did not bring it home.”