A Mortal Bane(85)

“Well….” Magdalene said hesitantly. “He could have dozed from time to time and not realized it, but I tend to believe him.”

Bell nodded. “Moreover, Brother Patric, another of Godwine’s assistants, confirmed that they were together at midnight. He saw the lights in the guesthouse when he went to relieve Brother Elwin at the gate, and stepped in to tell them to go to bed. And those were all the guests that stayed the night.”

“All that stayed the night?” Magdalene repeated. “Is that what Brother Godwine actually said?”

Bell stopped with his knife extended toward the platter of sliced cold meat. He grimaced and banged his hand down on the table so that the hilt of his knife cracked against it. Ella jumped and cried out. Bell said, “I am sorry,” frowning so horribly that Ella whimpered and shrank against Letice.

“What is wrong?” Sabina cried, turning her head toward him anxiously.

“Nothing,” Bell said. “Forgive me. I have just realized that I have done something stupid, and I do not enjoy it. I did ask Brother Porter for the names of those who had stayed in the guesthouse, but there may have been many others who attended the Compline service and could have lingered behind and killed Baldassare.”

“Not many,” Magdalene said. “I occasionally attend that service with Sabina. If we do not expect any other guests, and after the gate is locked, we can slip into the church in the dark. Few others ever came—five or six pious women from the neighborhood, perhaps a husband or two accompanying them, a few men from the bishop’s Household when Winchester is in Southwark—perhaps nine or ten in all, not counting Sabina and myself. I cannot imagine there could have been more this time.”

“But I cannot see how I can trace those. The porter might have asked their purpose for entering the priory, but if they said it was to attend the service, I doubt he would have asked their names.”

“True enough, but most of them come regularly and he probably knows who they are. Besides, it seems unlikely that any of those would have murdered Baldassare.”

“I am not so sure. The church might have been named as a meeting place because the killer was familiar with it.”

“Killer?” Ella asked, eyes wide.

“They are talking of a long-ago tale, love,” Sabina said, reaching across the table to pat Ella’s hand. “You know you do not like those stories where men are forever being stabbed. Do not listen to them.”

Both Magdalene and Bell sighed. “Eat your supper, my love,” Magdalene said, “and then you can go to bed. You look very tired.”

“Will not our guest want company?” Ella asked, but her voice lacked its usual bright welcoming.

“No, love. This is not a guest, remember? He is the bishop’s knight. He is here on business for the bishop.”

Ella smiled and turned her attention to the food that Letice had cut up for her, and Magdalene said, “Well, of those who attended the service often, three of the women and two of the men are frail and bent with age. The other three or four you can find and question. More significant, I think, is that the porter will be able to tell you if there were any who came that he did not know.”

Bell groaned. “And if there were, that person might have come from anywhere in London or Southwark” he sighed— “actually, from anywhere in England, for it would take longer for Baldassare to reach this country from Italy than for anyone to come from any part of it to Southwark.”





23 April, 1139





St. Mary Overy Priory