A Mortal Bane(8)

“Ella, my love, we do not urge ourselves on guests,” Magdalene reproved gently.

Ella sighed and moved away. “But he is such a pretty man,” she said. “Sabina does not care how they look. She does not need to look at them.”

Sabina laughed. “But I know how they look all the same, love. My fingers tell me. And there are so few who know how to help a blind woman without pulling and pushing at her. What is more, he has a lovely voice. So do not be a greedy little bird. We all want this one.”

“Now, now, you will make the poor man blush,” Magdalene said just as Letice came forward and touched the tip of a pointed finger to the guest’s lips, following the gentle touch with an even gentler kiss. “Sit down, all. You are getting in Dulcie’s way.”

[page]As the maid stepped through the corridor door and went to lay five large rounds of stale bread on the table, two at each long bench and one at the head, the man handed Sabina to a bench and sat down beside her. Ella, pouting only a little, sat on the other side of the table, while Letice went to the shelves and took down five cups, three knives, five spoons, and a ladle. She placed the ladle at Magdalene’s seat and left no knife at the guest’s or Ella’s; he had his own, and Ella would not touch a knife.

Dulcie returned with a pot of stew and a pasty, which she placed by Magdalene’s position at the head of the table. Meanwhile, Magdalene had brought a crock and the polished pitcher from the wall shelves and proceeded to pour ale for her women and herself, and wine for the guest. Then, before she sat down, she served everyone a portion of thick stew, which she dumped on the trencher with a slice of pasty beside it. Letice cut up Ella’s food and there was a short silence while everyone tasted the meal, broken at last by the guest’s compliments on the fine ragout.

“Dulcie is a good cook,” Magdalene said. “She came to me from a cookshop in Oxford. They could not keep her because she could no longer hear the orders. To me, her deafness is not important. In some ways it is a nuisance to have to shout or use gestures, but on the other hand, she cannot overhear what might be better unheard.”

“That is a comfort to some, I suppose, but not to me,” her guest said. “There are very few who would be interested in anything I had to say.”

Oh dear, Magdalene thought, this is a man who is concealing an important purpose and is not accustomed to doing so. A more practiced deceiver would never have denied a need for secrecy but laughed and agreed that all men had secrets. Magdalene kept her eyes on his face, careful not to glance at the pouch on its broad strap, which he had not set aside with his cloak. That pouch. Did it mark him a messenger?

“No, no,” she protested, laughing lightly. “Every man has things of interest to say. If you tell Sabina how lovely she is, she would hang on every word, I am sure.”

“And that would be a kindness,” Ella put in, “because, you know, she cannot see herself in a bowl of water or a plate of polished brass.”

“You are a sweet creature to think of that,” Sabina said to Ella, “but I am sure our guest has more amusing subjects to talk about.”

‘Truly, very little. In fact, I would be happy to hear any news of England, since I have been absent for some time. It is clear that the king is not in London. Has there been more rebellion that has carried him out to the field?”

“No, thank God,” Sabina said. “I do not know whether you were here when the Scots came down into Northumberland, and even to Yorkshire, but a great battle was fought at Northallerton, which was a victory for the English.”

Magdalene wondered, as Sabina told of the battle of the Standard and how it was Queen Maud who had traveled north to negotiate a truce, whether their guest could be a royal messenger. He certainly seemed interested when Sabina said the king was at Nottingham and assured him the news was reliable and had come to her from a well-informed client. But the man did not dress like a courier, nor was his bearing that of a man accustomed to wearing armor.