A Mortal Bane(31)

Magdalene uttered a tired laugh. “A pox on Brother Paulinus.” She sighed. “Oh, how I agree. But I doubt that even a pox could take him swiftly enough to stop him from making trouble for us.”

‘There is another thing,” Sabina said softly. “He also said he had a friend close to the Bishop of Winchester. The bishop will not want to listen to what will cost him our rent, but if the sacristan’s story is supported by someone who saw Messer Baldassare enter here….”

“Oh, heavens,” Magdalene breathed. “That would be fatal—” She stopped abruptly and shuddered. The word might turn out to be literally true. “I must tell the bishop. I must tell him everything—”

Letice jumped from her chair and grabbed Magdalene’s hand, shaking her head furiously and making signs that Magdalene finally figured out referred to the pouch.

[page]“Oh, no,” she agreed. “I will not tell him about the pouch. We must insist that Baldassare took everything with him when he left here and that he did not intend to return.” She stood abruptly. “I should have gone as soon as I wakened. I must not waste any more time. I will go now. Letice, come help me to dress.”

When Magdalene left the house, she was as soberly and elegantly clad as any rich merchant’s wife. A bleached chemise, gathered at the base of the throat with a rolled tie, peeped demurely out of the neck of a soft tan undertunic with long, tight sleeves. Over that she wore a shorter overtunic of warm brown, with bands around the edges of the wide sleeves and down the front exquisitely embroidered in a pattern of climbing roses, golden flowers glinting among the green leaves. To cover her hair she wore a veil, fastened around her forehead with a fillet of the same embroidery as ornamented her gown. The veil was of a thin, delicate fabric but very voluminous, the trailing left edge pulled firmly around her throat and tucked under, the right edge thrown more loosely around the left shoulder so it could be raised to shield her face. She wore no jewelry, and the purse that hung from her embroidered cloth girdle was unadorned and almost flat.

Although it was much shorter to go through the monastery grounds, Magdalene went out the front gate. She bade a grave good-day to the mercer and grocer who had stalls in front of their shops across the road. Both returned her greeting—the mercer, who sometimes sold Letice’s or Etta’s embroideries, merrily; the grocer with a hasty glance over his shoulder. Magdalene smiled and walked up the road. Likely the grocer’s wife was in the shop and watching.

Magdalene had invited both men separately when she first arrived, explaining frankly that she wished them to know her house would cause no riots in the street and make no scandal, that it was no common stew. Then she told them her rate and offered to reduce it once and once only for the sake of good neighborly feeling. The mercer continued to come occasionally, when he had made a special profit on one of the embroideries. The grocer was not as friendly. Still, both greeted her as readily as they ever had, which meant, she hoped, that neither sacristan nor lay brother had gone to them with accusations or questions. Relieved, she stepped out more briskly.

The road from the bridge ran almost due south, but at the end of the monastery grounds, a narrower lane went west and then north, continuing along the priory wall right down to the river, where the monks had a small landing. From the turn north, the side of the lane opposite the priory held four neat houses, then a stone wall, as high and probably stronger than that of the priory. That wall was broken by a large, double-doored gate. This was invitingly open, signaling that the Bishop of Winchester was in residence.

Magdalene walked through the gate and up the path to the heavy door of a stone-built house somewhat larger and taller than her own; this, however, was a private residence, not a place meant to harbor many guests, and was thus impressive. The door of the house was closed, but Magdalene saw that the pull of the bell was hanging outside. She took a deep breath, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. The bell cord indicated that the bishop was not only in residence in Southwark, but actually in the house.