A Mortal Bane (21 page)

Brother Fareman shrugged. “And that Messer Baldassare probably came through the back gate. If you can convince Father Benin that there is little likelihood of your guilt, I believe that he will forbid Brother Paulinus to make any further accusations, or even speak of the murder in public, unless he finds proof.”

That was a comforting notion and Magdalene set such a pace that the short, rotund secretary had to beg her to slow down. They went through the gate, which the secretary relocked, to Magdalene’s disappointment. A short way down the path to the church, Brother Fareman turned left and walked past the wall of the south transept and to the prior’s house, just opposite the chapter house.

Magdalene could see that the prior’s house was much smaller than the bishop’s house; she thought there would be space for only a comfortable room for business on the ground floor and possibly a solar and bedchamber above. An outside flight of stairs beside the door to the lower floor led directly to the solar, and to Magdalene’s surprise, it was to this that the secretary led her.

She was surprised again by a feeling of acute discomfort wakened by the large, curtained bed that stood with its head against the wall to the far right. She turned away and saw with some relief that this was not only a bedchamber. To the left was a beautifully carved, cushioned chair with a high back and arms, set beside a hearth under a stone overhang. To the right of the hearth was a heavy, polished table; behind it, the prior sat in a second chair with a back and arms, although not so large or high. The table was lit by a window in the wall. Another window on the same wall as the door made the room bright.

“Magdalene the whore, my lord,” the secretary said, gesturing Magdalene forward.

She walked to the table and bowed. “Father Prior, I am glad you are come home again. May I hope that your business prospered?”

The prior waved a hand in dismissal and the secretary stepped out, closing the door behind him.

“Well enough,” the prior said, “but now I wish I had not gone. What a dreadful thing! A murder at the church door. And Brother Sacristan saying that the dead man came from your house—”

“Father Prior, the man may have gone to the church through the back gate, but not with my knowledge or by my contrivance. And I swear to you that neither I nor any in my household did him harm or wished him harm. Nor was Messer Baldassare one of my regular clients.”

“Then how did he come to use your back gate?”

“I believe he was to meet someone in the church,” she replied, and launched into the tale of Baldassare’s coming to her gate, just as she had told it to Brother Paulinus.

She had just begun to explain—for the thousandth time, it seemed to her—why it was ridiculous to suspect her or her women of the crime, when the door burst open and Brother Paulinus stalked in. When he saw Magdalene, his eyes widened and he stopped dead, then rushed forward.

“Did you know what she had done?” he asked, his eyes wide. “How did you know? I only discovered the theft less than a quarter candlemark ago.” He turned on Magdalene, shouting, “Whore! Thief! How dare you touch a holy vessel of the church?”

“But I am not touching Father Benin,” Magdalene said, completely bewildered by the accusation and trying to make some sense of it. “I might kiss his hand in gratitude for his kindness, but I have not—”

“Liar!” Paulinus bellowed. “What have you done with the small golden pyx? Give it back! I will—”

“Brother Paulinus,” Father Benin said, “calm yourself. What are you talking about? I know nothing of the small golden pyx. What small golden pyx?”

“The one that was left here by the sisters. It is gone. Stolen. By this whore! You knew it. You summoned her to answer for her crime.”

“She is here to tell me what she knows about the death of Messer Baldassare.”

“I explained all that to you,” the sacristan said; then, turning on Magdalene again, he shouted, “You filthy whore, how dare you come here and spew your lies into the holy father’s ear?”

“I told him no lies.” That was true enough, Magdalene reassured herself. She had been very careful what she said to Father Benin. She had left out quite a bit, but told no lies. She met the sacristan’s furious gaze steadily and added, “You are correct in one thing at least, that I would never dare lie to Father Prior. Even a whore can tell the truth when it is to her advantage, and the more truth that is known about Messer Baldassare’s death, the safer I will be. I deal in the joys of life, never in death.”

“The death of the soul is the fruit of your joy!” He turned from her to the prior and said, “How can you allow that whore to contaminate your private chamber—”

From the mingled expressions of chagrin and impatience, just tinged with shame, that Magdalene saw flit across the prior’s face, she suddenly realized why she had been taken to his private chamber instead of being interviewed in the room devoted to business below. Father Benin had hoped Brother Paulinus would not know she had been invited to explain.

Magdalene laughed, knowing it would infuriate the sacristan and hoping to draw his attention to give the prior time to gather his forces. “Rest at ease, Brother Paulinus,” she said. “Whoredom is not something you can breathe in and catch like a fever from the night air. Unless you desire it and seek it out, it will not touch you.”

“Me?” Brother Paulinus bellowed, raising his hand.

“Nay, Brother Paulinus,” the prior said sharply. “Even with such as she, we do not practice violence.” His countenance once more placid, Father Benin shook his head at her and she bowed hers in response. He turned to the sacristan again. “Magdalene is in my solar to keep her out of the way of the younger brothers, who often come to my secretary with problems.” He smiled slightly. “At my age, I hope I am safe from her no matter where I choose to speak with her. Now, what is this about the small golden pyx being stolen? Are you sure it is missing, Brother Sacristan? It was very small and never used. Could it not have slipped back into the dark, or even into another of the vessels?”

“Of course I am sure. As you know, usually we clean the church plate on Friday so that it will be perfect for Sunday, but we have been all turned around by Brother Knud being questioned, so the work was not completed Friday. Today, when Brother Knud was about to finish that task, something moved me to examine the safe box, and I counted over every piece. The pyx was gone.” His face contorted as if he were about to burst into tears. “I have failed my trust. And” —he whirled about and glared at Magdalene— “it is her fault. She stole it!”

“Paulinus!” The prior got to his feet. “How can that be true? How could she steal the pyx out of a locked chest?”

“Who else could do it? Is she not a whore? Does not the foul sin she commits corrupt the whole being of those who engage in its evil practices? Is this not proof that the whores murdered the pope’s messenger?”

“Proof?” Magdalene cried. “What has a stolen pyx to do with Messer Baldassare’s death?”

“Who else but a whore and a murderess would dare steal from the church, from the storage closet beneath the very altar itself? Indeed that must be why you killed him. He must have seen you stealing the pyx.”

“Father Benin,” Magdalene protested, “this is madness. I never left my house the night Messer Baldassare was killed. My women and I were together after Vespers. My maid, who is not a whore, not excommunicate, and a faithful daughter of the church, will attest to that.”

Dulcie would not have to lie, she told herself. They
had
all been together after Vespers, and
had
remained so until Sabina went to bed with Baldassare, but he was certainly lively enough then. And she had not left the house after he did.

“And after Thursday morning,” Magdalene continued before either the sacristan or the prior could speak, “the gate between the church and the Old Guesthouse was locked, so I could not come into the priory grounds unseen. You may ask your porter if I passed the gate since then—”

“You did, you lying whore. You were here yesterday.”

Magdalene blinked, for a moment terrified by the notion that Brother Paulinus had suborned the porter or one of his assistants to say she had entered the monastery—and then she remembered and smiled. “Yes, I was. I came with Sir Bellamy of Itchen, the bishop’s knight, to look at the dead man to see if I recognized him, which I did, and so did Sir Bellamy. But Brother Paulinus, I was in his presence and that of Brother Porter the whole time. Are you trying to say that Sir Bellamy and Brother Godwine either ignored me or watched me break open the safe box and take out the pyx?”

“You bemused them. You cast an evil glamour—”

“Hush, Brother Paulinus,” the prior said, coming around his desk and putting his hand on the distraught sacristan’s arm. “You are beside yourself with worry. I am sure it is not through any neglect of yours that the pyx is missing. Just calm yourself.” Then he turned to Magdalene. “Did you say you were with Sir Bellamy? How is he involved in this?”

“He was bidden by the bishop to discover, if he could, who had killed Messer Baldassare and what had happened to the pouch Messer Baldassare was carrying.”

“I was blamed for that, too,” the sacristan burst out. “Sir Bellamy accused me of not sending word to the bishop about the murder, but this priory owes no obedience to the bishop. I sent word to the abbot. Now the pyx is gone—”

The prior was looking desperately confused, and Magdalene said, “I told the bishop a man had been killed on the church porch when I went to speak to him on Friday morning. He was distressed by the news and by the fact that he had to hear it from me, particularly when he learned that the victim was Messer Baldassare, a papal messenger. He then ordered his knight, Sir Bellamy, to discover the identity of the killer.”

“He need not look very far if he will only look honestly,” the sacristan spat. “And I will insist a search for the pyx be made in your premises.”

“You may search and welcome,” Magdalene said, laughing. “Sir Bellamy all but scratched the dirt out between the boards of the floors when he searched on Friday.”

“He searched your house? Why?” Father Benin asked.

“He was looking for Master Baldassare’s pouch. I had seen it under his cloak, although I had not seen it clearly because he had thrust it to the back. But the pouch was not found with the body. The bishop wondered if Messer Baldassare had hidden the pouch in my house because he did not trust the person he was supposed to meet. And since the bishop is sure that Messer Baldassare had come with important documents from the pope, he is eager that Sir Bellamy find the pouch if he can.”

“I see. Well, I must say I am greatly relieved to learn that Sir Bellamy has been ordered to discover who committed this crime. I have found him to be honest and clever when he did the bishop’s work in the past.”

“He is not so honest now,” Brother Paulinus hissed. “He is bedazzled by this whore and his sole purpose is to remove any stigma from her. I tell you, she stole the pyx.”

The last idea Magdalene wanted fixed in the prior’s mind was that Bell was enamored of her. Better let him think about the missing pyx. “How did I steal it?” Magdalene cried. “Do I look strong enough to break open a safe box?”

“Your strength does not matter—the box was not
broken
open.”

Both Magdalene and Father Benin drew a sharp breath and turned to stare at the sacristan. Now Magdalene knew why he was acting like a madman. He had always been strongly opposed to having even so discreet a house of pleasure as hers adjoining the monastery and had always been more rigid about carnal sin than most. His effort to involve her and her women in the murder, once he learned that Baldassare had come through the back gate, was not really unreasonable; however, his insistence that she had stolen the pyx, which was impossible, was mad. But if the safe box had not been broken, someone who had the key must have stolen the pyx…and the person who held the key to the safe box was the sacristan.

“Oh, dear,” Magdalene whispered.

She did not like the sacristan. In his passionate desire for purity, Brother Paulinus could be cruel and, as she had seen when he struck Ella, violent. She could easily imagine him murdering Baldassare in some mistaken fit of righteousness; she could even imagine him blotting out the memory, or convincing himself that God had directed his act for the purpose of driving out the whores and their corruption. But what reason could Brother Paulinus possibly have for stealing the church plate? And she learned the answer in the next breath.

“It is not possible,” Father Benin had murmured simultaneously, and then, smiling wryly, said, “No, not even to repair the belfry roof. Even if you hold the key, Brother Paulinus, there must be another answer.”

“It cannot be the only key,” Magdalene said.

“Do not you dare defend me!” Brother Paulinus shouted. “Your evil purpose lies like a putrid glow over you. You—”

“Hush, Brother Sacristan,” Father Benin said. ‘The woman may be a sinner, but she means well in this. Why do you not go to my prie-dieu and say a prayer to calm yourself.”

That was not really a suggestion; no matter how gentle the voice, it was an order. And when the gaunt monk had walked to where the prior’s crucifix hung on the wall near his bed and knelt before it, the prior turned to Magdalene.

“I think you should leave us now, daughter. Go down to the chamber below and Brother Fareman will see you home.”

“Thank you, Father Prior,” she said, and then, struck by a notion, added softly, “Is it possible that because the little pyx is so small, it was left out when the other vessels were cleaned and returned? Could it be that after the box was locked, the person who forgot it was afraid to admit his fault and hid it somewhere in the church, intending to return it today when the box was opened to make the vessels ready for Sunday? If the church were searched—”

“You are a good-hearted, forgiving creature,” Father Benin said, smiling. “I am supposed to be humble and submissive to God’s will, but I do not know whether I could try so hard to help someone so eager to harm me. I will certainly ask the sacristan’s assistant if the pyx could have been mislaid, and I will also speak to Sir Bellamy about the murder to learn what he knows and to offer what help I can. Go with God, my daughter.”