Chains of Folly Read online

“Of course. He would just say he came on a later ship, or whatever other excuse for delay he wished to give. Now I do not think he would dare accuse anyone in Baynard’s Castle of stealing the letter—and why should they? It is another thing to discredit Winchester. What worries me is that Sir John might go to Linley to demand the letter, thinking that Linley would have collected all of Nelda’s valuables and Linley will tell him at once that Diot and I had taken them. Then likely Sir John will come here.”

  “Would not Linley say the bishop had everything? That is what you told him.”

  “Perhaps.” Magdalene shrugged. “Although I think Linley would guess that Sir John would be enraged and want to give him a possible target for venting that rage. Linley would know Sir John could not attack the bishop, and Linley did not strike me as a particularly brave man.” She bent her head and picked up the piece of embroidery again. “Most likely he will say he never found any letter among Nelda’s things.”

  Bell had an instant memory of one of Linley’s companions intimating that Linley was useless as a fighter. “And Sir John will press him, and Linley will say he saw you and Diot taking away Nelda’s valuables…”

  “It is unfortunate that Sir John has been a client here several times. He knows at what times we entertain clients. He might even know how to come through the back gate so he would not need to ring the outside bell. Dulcie would not hear him if he sneaked through the kitchen.”

  Bell looked at her, looked away from her lovely face. I think this is a trap for my wary but too-eager feet. And yet, it might happen just as she says.

  “Ah…damnation visit all of them!” he burst out torn between suspicion and concern. “I cannot be here all day. The bishop plans to visit St. Bartholomew’s and perhaps if he has time St. Catherine’s also. I doubt there will be any further attempt made on him, specially since his visits to the hospitals can have nothing to do with the conclave, but I cannot send him with only the men-at-arms.”

  Magdalene smiled at him. “Tom Watchman will be here during the day. He is no match for two knights, but if he can distract them and raise an alarm, as you know the women and I can defend ourselves.”

  Chapter 12

  Once again Magdalene’s anxiety seemed to have been excessive. Bell did warn Dulcie to keep the back door locked, and she did, but no one tried to get into the house that way. Magdalene sent Letice to her uncle to ask if she should tell any poppy eater where to find Umar so that they could buy direct from him, and Letice returned with a nearly indistinguishable scrawl to the effect that Umar said he would sell to anyone with sufficient silver.

  All the clients came on time and left on time. Nothing at all unusual happened all day long. Attacking before she could be accused of deliberately awakening fears, Magdalene apologized to Bell when he arrived for the evening meal for dreaming up dangers. He only shook his head and said that travel was chancy and Sir John might not yet have arrived in London.

  If he had, he did not trouble them that night. All the women had bed partners and Bell and Magdalene spent the time before they, too, retired—alas to different beds—going over the rings and seals Magdalene had taken from Nelda’s hidden hoard. They were able to identify all but two of the rings and Bell said he had a nearly free day on the morrow and he would try to find out where those men were and speak to them.

  Bell left at his usual early hour to report to the bishop what he planned to do about the tokens Nelda had held. Having gone early to bed, Magdalene wakened early also. Diot and Ella were less than a quarter candlemark behind her. Baby Face had given Ella a purse in addition to his payment to Magdalene, and Diot had offered to take Ella to the East Chepe so she could spend some of the money. The rest Magdalene would deposit with her goldsmith, building a fund for Ella to live on when her beauty faded.

  Letice came from her chamber shortly after Ella and Diot left. She broke her fast and then devoted herself to copying on some scraps of old parchment a simple story that Magdalene had written out for her. Occasionally she touched Magdalene’s hand and pointed to a word and Magdalene said it aloud. Letice worked with a passionate devotion, fueled by the need to be able to express herself and also by her uncle’s promise that he would find a place for her in his business if she ever desired it.

  When the bell at the gate rang, Magdalene made a face. All her women were occupied at every time interval for the remainder of the week. Nonetheless she got up to answer. Next week was not full. As she rose, she thrust her hand through the slit in her skirt that ordinarily gave access to her pocket. For the last few days, it had also given access to a well-honed knife strapped to her thigh. Magdalene touched the hilt gingerly; she hated to draw a knife. Every time she did so she could feel the rush of hot, sticky blood flowing over her hand, smell it, hear the thud when her husband hit the floor…

  Pushing away the too-vivid memory—why would it not fade as most memories did?—Magdalene hurried out, unlatched the gate, and opened it to the length of the chain. At first she saw no one. Then she looked down, expecting a child who had been used as a messenger.

  “Oh!” she said, surprised, undoing the chain, “Tayte. Come in. What brings you here?”

  As she said the words, Magdalene wished them unsaid.

  The very last thing she wanted was for Tayte to tell her she had been dismissed by the man who kept her and that she wanted a place in the Old Priory Guesthouse. Tayte was just not the type to satisfy Magdalene’s clients.

  “You gave me three pennies,” Tayte said, coming in. “My man said that you would expect some service for that.”

  “Good God no!” Magdalene exclaimed. “I took up your time that day and I felt you should be paid for it, that is all. I…I do not…ah…use casual women…”

  “Oh, no!” Tatye’s little face turned bright red, and then she scowled angrily and said, “What kind of a man would send his woman out to pay a debt with her body? We are not rich, but Di—my man could find a way to pay you back—”

  “Forgive me, Tayte,” Magdalene said. “I have led a harder life than you, my dear.” Her lips twisted. “The men who used me—even the best of them—” she thought of the many times William had sent men to her, men he wanted cozened out of information or fed lies, “thought of my body as coin. I should have remembered that you have a single man…” She cocked her head. “Why does he not marry you, Tayte?”

  The red, which had been fading to pink while Magdalene explained, darkened again. “His father would not permit it. I was a servant, mostly a sempstress in the house, and when my man spoke of his preference for me, his father cast me out. But he is working and saving, as am I, and soon he will open a shop of his own. We will marry then.”

  “Ah,” Magdalene said, trying not to allow sadness to change her expression. Once he had his shop, would Tayte’s man not look for a wife with a decent dowry to increase his business? She pushed the thought away and smiled at the diminutive girl, “Will you not come in, my dear, and tell me how you thought you should serve me for my pennies?”

  “Oh, no, I…”

  “There is nothing in the Old Priory Guesthouse to distress you, I promise. We have no clients at this time of day. It is already growing warm. Do come in and have a sip of ale or wine.”

  Curiosity warred with fear and then Tayte nodded and followed Magdalene into the house. She paused just over the doorsill, almost seeming poised to run, but then settled more firmly on her feet and…was that a shade of disappointment that flicked across her face? Magdalene restrained a grin. Had the child expected a huge tub in the middle of the floor with writhing couples in it? Or perhaps grunting pairs in the corners of the room?

  Tayte took a half step back toward the door when she saw what Letice was doing and whispered, “Is she drawing spells?”

  “No, indeed,” Magdalene said reassuringly. “Letice is mute. She cannot speak, so she is learning to read and write in order to tell others what she thinks and needs. Now, do you want ale or wine?”

  “Learning to read and
write?” Tayte repeated with as much wonder as if Magdalene had said Letice was learning to fly. Then she frowned. “Is that not denying God’s will? If He made her silent, perhaps it is to keep locked away what she might tell others.”

  “I do not know,” Magdalene said, this time somewhat sharply. “I do not presume to know God’s will. Since Letice is learning much faster than most others, I can only assume God is pleased with her progress. Now, have you decided what you would like to drink?”

  “Wine, please, but with water.” Tayte smiled shyly after shaking her head at Letice’s activity. “We do not have wine often.”

  Magdalene got a goblet from the shelf, poured a third of a cup of William’s good wine into it, and filled the cup with water. She set that at Bell’s usual place at the table, and seated herself. Having taken a swallow of her own drink, which was ale, she cocked her head again.

  “So what service did you think you owed me for my penny?”

  Tayte sipped from the cup Magdalene had given her and made an appreciative murmur. “When you asked me about doings in Nelda’s rooms—that was what you paid me to tell you—you seemed interested in that big man who sometimes went out with Nelda, the one who once beat her.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was working in the shop yesterday—I mend for the woman who keeps it—and I saw him come in and go up. I was surprised when he did not knock and come down again. I thought the door to Nelda’s rooms was locked.”

  “It was. Sir Bellamy locked it when we left and he took away the key Nelda’s man had.”

  “Well, I suppose this man had a key of his own because he was not waiting on the landing and he was certainly not in my room—where I can promise you the door was locked. He must have gone inside Nelda’s apartment. I was a little surprised, but it was none of my affair. However, I had to leave the door of my room open. It was hot, you know, and I was preparing dinner over a brazier. So I was near the door for whatever cool air I could find.”

  Magdalene said nothing but she had much ado not to grin. It was a most curious little mouse and had the best reasons for everything it did, and always reasons that had nothing to do with its curiosity.

  “Well, just about the time my stew had heated through, I heard a kind of hoarse shout as if…as if the man were surprised or in pain and there was a crash and then more crashes.”

  “Like a fight taking place?”

  “Perhaps, but I would swear that no one else had gone up to Nelda’s rooms. No, the sound was more as if the big man had lost his temper and was smashing the furniture. And then there was a heavy thud…and then nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing? I freely admit that if I had heard all that, I would have been standing with my ear pressed to the door for what happened next.”

  “Well…” Tatye’s face grew a little pinker. She drank from her cup again. “I did not do that, but I could not help but pay attention. I even moved so I could see Nelda’s door. But he never came out and I watched all afternoon, and when my man came I told him and he said he thought you would want to know and that I owed it to you… It was one of your pennies that bought the stew; we do not have meat very often. And when the man did not come out all night—” she blushed again “—although the door was closed then, of course, and we were busy so we might have missed hearing him go. Anyway, I decided to come and tell you.”

  You mean that you and your man want to know what happened, Magdalene thought, amused. But she chided herself for her criticism; after all, she wanted to know also.

  “I am glad you did,” Magdalene said, “but there is nothing I can do about it right now. Sir Bellamy is the one who has the key. When he comes, I will tell him what you have told me. Likely he will be willing to go to Nelda’s apartment and look.” She hesitated, saw the disappointment on the little mouse’s face, and added, “I will come and tell you what we find, unless, of course, Sir Bellamy forbids me.”

  Tayte sighed. “I hope he does not, but men do seem to take a pleasure in telling women what to do.”

  They did, indeed, Magdalene thought, as she watched Tayte lift her cup and drain it, but she made no reply, and Tayte said a formal thanks, rose, and scuttled out of the door. Magdalene followed her to put the chain back on the gate. She stood a moment, looking rather blankly at the wood.

  Magdalene itched to start for Nelda’s place, but Diot, who could pick the lock, was heaven-alone knew where with Ella, and she had never thought to ask Bell for the key. When Diot returned—no, they had to eat dinner because all of the women had clients coming. Nor could Diot afford to be late because she had to be rid of that client in good time to take another. Magdalene sighed. She would have to wait for Bell.

  She had hoped Bell would come in time to have dinner with them, but he did not. He did not, in fact, arrive until the evening meal was sitting on the table. He had not rung the bell, merely strode in through the open door and made for his usual spot. He looked hot and dusty and emptied the wine cup sitting by his place in a few long swallows. Then, he smiled at everyone and said, “Good day to you all.”

  A burst of laughter greeted his remark, and Bell laughed also and sat down. “A long, hot day,” he said, “but nearly all my questions were answered and the answers will not make my life more difficult.” A sidelong glance first in Ella’s direction and then at Magdalene indicated that it would be too difficult to explain himself in Ella’s presence.

  Magdalene understood that he must have been able to track down most of the men who had given Nelda tokens and that they did not seem likely to be involved in her death. She could wait for further details without impatience.

  “I have had a most interesting day myself,” she said. “Do you remember the woman who lives in the other room in Linley’s house? She was the one who told me about Sir John being with Nelda.”

  Bell nodded wordlessly, his mouth being full of a big bite of a goose and egg pie, and Magdalene recited to him the gist of Tayte’s information.

  “Gehard,” Bell said when he had swallowed. “He must have gone there to look for his seal. How the devil did he get in? Not with Linley’s key, I have that.”

  “He might have had his own key,” Magdalene offered. “He went with Nelda to The Saracen’s Head when she bought the poppy from Umar.”

  “Do you think Nelda would trust him so far as a key to her rooms?” Diot asked. “I find that hard to believe. She was not a trusting person.”

  “Keys should be hung on the wall. I would be afraid of losing a key if I carried it,” Ella said.

  “Hmmm.” Magdalene, as she often did, followed Ella’s innocent remark farther. “It is not impossible that Gehard somehow gained possession of Nelda’s key long enough to have a copy made. And there was Nelda’s own key. We had forgotten about that. I wonder what happened to it? But does that mean he never approached Linley about his lost seal? Possibly that Linley did not know he intended to search Nelda’s apartment?”

  Bell shrugged. “I do not know, but it does seem to me that if Gehard thought Linley had got Nelda’s possessions and asked for them, Linley would have told Gehard that you, or the bishop, had them now. From what his fellow captains in Surrey’s service said, Linley was no great hero. Yet Gehard did not come here.”

  “Thank God for that!” Magdalene exclaimed. “With a full house I do not need the kind of riot that one would make.”

  To that Bell made no direct response, but he said, as if he hardly heard her, “So when he did not find the seal, he lost his temper and broke up the furniture.” He nodded. “I can imagine him doing that, but why then did he not leave?”

  “There was that heavy thud Tayte mentioned.”

  “Perhaps he tripped on something and fell,” Diot said, and then shook her head. “But being the man you implied he was, Bell, tripping and falling should have made him more furious so that he broke up more furniture. Only Magdalene said it was quiet after that. And whatever happened, it still does not explain why he did not leave.”

  �
��Hit his head?” Bell suggested. “And we don’t know that he didn’t leave later. From what Magdalene says, Tayte and her man closed her door after the man arrived and—” Bell chuckled “—were busy.”

  The laugh died in his throat and his expression froze. Magdalene’s hand tightened on the cup she held. Letice looked down at the piece of pasty in her hand. Diot looked away toward the window.

  “I was very busy this morning,” Ella said, smiling. “Diot was kind enough to take me to the East Chepe. Baby Face had left me a purse…” She turned to Magdalene and said earnestly, “I tried to give it back to him, but he would have none of it and said it was for me. I told him you gave me money enough—”

  “It was something he wished you to have, likely so you could buy something that you could say came from him since he is too timid to buy you a gift himself.”

  Ella’s eyes opened wide. “That is just what Diot said,” she marveled. “And it sounded right, so I bought a really beautiful clasp to hold my hair, and when he comes I will show it to him and tell him what you said, Magdalene, and that I would always think of him when I put it in my hair.”

  Magdalene opened her mouth to commend this idea, but the bell of St. Mary Overy pealed the hour of Vespers. In a little while, the men who planned to spend the night in the Old Priory Guesthouse would be arriving. Bell hastily swallowed the remains of the pottage in his bowl and took more of the cold sliced meat, which he slapped on a piece of bread. He swung over the bench and pulled his sword belt over his shoulder. With both hands free, he added a wedge of cheese to the bread and meat, caught up the cup of ale, and walked down the corridor toward the room in which he slept.

  “Where is Bell going?” Ella asked.

  “To his room,” Magdalene said patiently, but her voice trembled slightly. “You know some of our guests do not like it known that they come here. They would be uncomfortable and unhappy if they saw Bell or he saw them. That is why you must never speak to any of your friends when you meet them outside this house.”