A Mortal Bane(84)

Not another half-candlemark had passed before the bell was ringing again and the whole scene was repeated with another goldsmith, who also had had business with the sacristan. Fortunately, Ella was quite ready to receive the second man. He said that since anyone who had noticed him at the front gate would say there was no smoke without fire, he might as well enjoy the fire instead of being blamed and missing the warmth.

Both clients were ill at ease, however, and because they did not linger, Ella and Sabina were able to join Magdalene and Letice for dinner. They were aware of being late and ate quickly, but Dulcie had hardly cleared the wine cups from the table when the bell was pealing again. Ella jumped to her feet; the other three women sighed and then found smiles. Saturday, before the confessions and Masses of Sunday, was always very busy.

On that day, Magdalene worked no less hard than her women. Although she never left the common room, she was responsible for keeping those guests who came ahead of their time—or those who followed clients who were slow to find arousal and release—busy, amused, and just titillated enough to be unwilling to leave but not excited enough to demand immediate service. Everyone, even Ella, was exhausted by dusk, and when Magdalene went out to lock the gate, she was actually looking at the bell rope and thinking of pulling it in when a man strode up.

“I am very sorry,” she began, then stopped and laughed. “Bell! Come in. I thought you were another client and was about to turn you away. For once, I and my women need rest more than custom.”

He seemed to stiffen and hesitate, but she gestured him in and added as she closed and locked the gate, “Between those who came to blame us for murder—and stayed to enjoy what they fear they must deny themselves in the future—and those who knew nothing of the crime, I have had my fill of pacifying impatient men. And my women are tired. Still, I am glad to see you. I have learned where a round dozen of my clients were on Wednesday night.”

“And you believe what they told you?”

“Mostly yes, and if what I learned is true, you will find it very easy to prove, most discreetly, the whereabouts of more than half those on my list. Did you know that many guilds have their meetings on Wednesday?”

“Yes, I knew—oh! Your clients are mostly craftmasters. I understand.”

[page]“So, if the craftmasters were at their guild meetings, they are innocent. No one need question them directly, and my reputation for keeping their secrets will remain intact.”

He laughed as he walked into the torch-and taper-lit house with her, and accepted gladly when she asked whether he wished to share their evening meal. As they ate, he told her that all the guests who had stayed at the priory guesthouse the night Baldassare was killed had been cleared also.

Three were still at the priory and would be there for at least another week. Those were the men who had been on horseback. They were stoneworkers, employed for many years by the abbot of the mother house of the priory, and they had readily answered his questions. None knew Baldassare, none had any interest in whether the king held the throne or the empress took it, none cared who was archbishop or whether or not a legate was appointed. They had all attended Compline service together, left the church with several monks who knew them, and gone to bed, sharing blankets and a pallet, so none could have left without waking the others.

Four other guests had annoyed a fifth enough for him to complain to Brother Elwin, one of Brother Godwine’s assistants. The four had brought along wine flasks and bread and sat talking and, the fifth guest thought, rolling knucklebones until nearly midnight. They had invited him to join them, which he had refused because he was tired and wished to sleep. But he had not slept, he said bitterly; they made so much noise that he never closed his eyes.