A Mortal Bane(42)

“But you told the sacristan the man had never been with you,” Brother Godwine said severely.

“I told the sacristan that all of our clients had left our house safe and sound and that neither I nor any other member of the household followed or harmed any client. I told the truth then, and I have told the truth now.”

Bell looked at her sidelong. He knew both tales and suspected that every word she had said was true—and added up to a thumping lie. Clever. Yes, she was clever.

“We will see,” Bell said, and then to Brother Godwine. “I know the man. His name was Baldassare de Firenze, and he often served as a papal messenger.”

“Papal messenger!” the porter echoed, his eyes filled with horror. “How terrible! What can he have been carrying that he should ask for the church of St. Mary Overy? We have made no recent request of the pope.”

Hardly listening to the horrified effusions, Bell bent over the neatly folded pile of clothes and other possessions that were on a small bench by the foot of the bier. The upper part of the shirt, tunic, and cloak were stained, despite washing; the braies were not. On the belt, laid atop the clothing, was a sheathed knife with a horn hilt inlaid with gold wire—a valuable knife, not taken. Beside that was a coiled leather strap about two or three fingers wide.

“Look,” Bell said, pointing to a fresh-looking cut in the leather of the belt. “That is where the loop of the purse was cut.” Then he lifted the coiled strap. Midway along, it was stained with blood. “He was wearing that when he died, likely to support a pouch. Did you find a pouch?”

[page]“No,” Brother Godwine said firmly. “No purse either. You say the purse was stolen? Oh, heaven! What a calamity! Was the pouch stolen, too? Will we ever learn what the Holy Father wished to tell us?”

Bell had examined the strap inch by inch. “No cuts and it would be hard to remove the pouch without marks.”

“Perhaps he was not wearing it?” Magdalene was dying to say that the pouch could have been hidden, but she dared not.

Sir Bellamy nodded to her remark, then patted Brother Godwine’s shoulder. “Yes, of course you will learn what the Holy Father wished to tell. The bishop will send a messenger to inform the pope that Baldassare was slain and the contents of his pouch lost.”

“We will be blamed. The Holy Father will call us guilty of great neglect to allow his messenger to be murdered on our doorstep.”

“Not if you help me find the killer and we can tell the pope his messenger is avenged.”

“Gladly. We will all gladly help. But Messer Baldassare did not enter the priory by the front gate. I swear it! No one knew of his presence until the body was found.”

“And when was that?”

“At Prime. We—we heard crows cawing. All through the service the crows called. The sacristan bade the lay brother who assists him, Brother Knud, to see if some offal had been left in the graveyard. And Knud found…found…oh, it was terrible!”

“I’m sure it was,” Bell said. “Can you show me just where the body was found?”

The porter led the way out of the chapel and across the chancel to the north porch door, Magdalene following silently on Sir Bellamy’s heels. As annoyed as she had been with him for forcing her to make a statement about Baldassare, she was now grateful because she realized it was important for her to see where the crime had been committed. Sabina saw much with her fingers, but only what she had touched, and the shock and fear could easily have made her forget things.

The porter opened the door but did not step out. Pointing, he said, “There. You can see where he was found. The lay brothers have not been able to wash away the stain of the blood.”