Roberta Gellis (40 page)

She was less angry now. Sir Druerie had his prejudices, that was for sure, but considering them he had been remarkably patient with Ella. In addition there was genuine liking and understanding in his expression when he looked at Mainard, and he looked him straight in the face, not wincing away from its deformity. She could hope that he would perceive that Sabina truly cared for Mainard. If he did, his assurance would go a long way to giving Mainard peace.

“Would you like a cup of wine, Master Mainard?” she asked.

“No, I—I do not think I could swallow it,” he said, and sat down heavily on a bench, only to spring upright again as the gate bell rang.

This was no peal, just a brief “clang-clang” to warn the house that someone was there. “That will be Bell,” Magdalene said, but when she went out, Mainard was on her heels.

It was, indeed, Bell, looking very satisfied with himself as she swung the gate open. “Letice is safe with her compatriots, and they assured me—at least the most villainous looking man I’ve ever seen, except that Letice clearly knows him very well and trusts him—assured me that she would be accompanied home tonight.”

“He is an uncle, I think, although I am by no means sure,” Magdalene replied, “but I am sure that smug expression on your face has little to do with Letice’s uncle.”

“Oh, yes it does. He was not at all pleased when I told him who might be having Letice followed, and he said he and his friends would look into it. It maybe the sheriff will— Hola, Mainard, what are you doing here?” He laughed as he said it. “Now that’s a fool remark if I ever made one.” Then a frown took the place of the laughter. “What I meant was why did you come to the gate with Magdalene?”

“Come inside,” Magdalene said. “We do not need to tell the whole street what has been happening.”

This time when she got the men seated around the table and Diot brought cups and wine, Mainard look a cup and downed it in one long swallow. Then he told Bell about the search of his shop and his conclusions. Bell listened with bright-eyed interest.

“Nothing could be better than if they do come,” he said.

“Magdalene, did you bring out those documents as I asked you to do?” She nodded. “Very good. Let us spread them out on the table—enough so that anyone who suspects what they might be would recognize them.”

Magdalene nodded again. “Yes, and when we see how they react, we can ask for an explanation.”

“You are not going to let then in!” Mainard protested. “I will go to the gate with you and turn them away—”

“Mainard, I will
pray
that they come and welcome them gladly. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder or guarding this house against invasion? These men must know that the proof of their misdeeds, whether desperate or mere peccadillo, is either destroyed or beyond their reach.”

“Absolutely,” Bell said. “When we discover which of them is Saeger, perhaps we can wring a confession out of him and be done with this matter. Once I show him the wills and the indictment and prove he will be hanged anyway for the death of his first wife, I will take everything remaining to the bishop of Winchester’s house where it can be locked safely away and guarded, and we will tell the others.”

“In that case, we had better look these over very, very carefully,” Magdalene said as she got the two boxes holding the documents and brought them to the table. She took out the bound parchments and laid them down, flipping them over and then down again, impatiently. “I wish I knew which of these we could burn without doing harm. This business about Herlyoud, for example, to expose that would be cruel and useless.”

“Yet, as I told you, he acts the most guilty. And he is the likeliest to have given Borc that dose of lily of the valley. When I spoke to Brother Samuel at St. Catherine’s Hospital, he could not yet tell me whether Borc died right after he visited Herlyoud’s shop or just before dawn on Saturday. He had to wait until the body either stiffened or softened more, and I have had no time today to learn what he discovered.”

Magdalene sighed and shrugged. “I know, but does it not occur to you, Bell, that Genlis would have written these notes in the most damaging way, deliberately omitting whatever might have mitigated the offense? What if we hear good and sufficient reasons for what was done?”

“I do believe that FitzRevery’s farm was not promised to the church,” Mainard said. “Or if it was, it was literally on the old man’s deathbed as a result of being deliberately frightened by threats of hell. I knew old FitzRevery—not as well as I know—” he hesitated and his lips thinned “—thought I knew Perekin, but the old man was simply not the kind to give more than what was due to anyone, including God, I am very sure.”

“Yet FitzRevery fits most closely into the pattern we have for the murderer, and with the threat of an accusation of treason hanging over him, he would be the most desperate to silence his accuser and destroy the evidence.”

“Why do I not cut the documents apart?” Magdalene asked. “We would then have all the accusations separate, and if we felt exposure would be unjust, we could destroy just those—”

The gate bell rang.

“I will go,” Magdalene said. “Diot, watch through the window. If it is anyone except the five men we hope will come, sweep all those documents back into the box and cover it in some way or carry the boxes to your chamber. If it is the five, I do not think they should see you when they first come in, Bell—”

The bell rang again, somewhat more insistently.

“You could wait in my room,” Magdalene said to Bell and then turned to Mainard.

He glanced down the corridor to where Sabina had taken Sir Druerie and shook his head. “There is no sense in hiding me. They must know I am here. I told Henry, and he would tell FitzRevery if he asked. Henry never came upstairs and does not know what was done to Sabina’s chamber.”

The third time the ringing could be called a peal.

Diot walked with Magdalene toward the door. “If it is a client other than the five, hold them in talk a few moments so I can get to the table,” she said.

As Magdalene stepped out, Diot went to the window and loosened the frame holding the sheets of oiled parchment, which let in the light but not the wind. Bell stepped into Magdalene’s room, leaving the door open enough to hear and see out, not that he could see much because the walls of the corridor cut off most of his view. Mainard stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking alternately down the corridor and toward the door.

In a moment, Diot had pushed the frame back into place and walked to the hearth, where she picked up her embroidery and seated herself on her stool. She dropped the work to her lap and looked up as Magdalene opened the door and stepped to the side so all five men could file in. She shut the door behind them, softly, and equally softly set in place the bar that locked it. Of course, the bar being inside only locked the door against those outside, but it would take a few moments to lift it from its slots and that delay might prevent the flight of a guilty man.

Ulfmaer FitzIsabelle stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mainard. He was pushed forward by Lintun Mercer, whose eyes were turned toward the table. John Herlyoud walked around them both, looking from side to side, as if he were more interested in the place than in the documents. Perekin FitzRevery saw Mainard, lifted a hand in appeal, and then dropped it without saying anything. Jokel de Josne came forward only enough to sidle toward where the door would open.

“You fool!” FitzIsabelle exclaimed, stepping toward Mainard. “What kind of an idiot gives information that might ruin a man to a bunch of whores.”

“You mean I should have left it at my home or my shop so that it would be easier for you to steal it?” Mainard asked bitterly.

Lintun Mercer had walked to the table and looked at the bound sheets of parchment
.
Magdalene came away from the door and stood beside him. Mainard moved closer also, near enough to prevent anyone from grabbing for the documents. Mercer glanced up at Mainard, smiled, and made no attempt to touch anything. When he turned his eyes to Magdalene, however, they were narrowed.

“Why are these lying exposed for anyone to see?” he asked. “What were you intending to do with them?”

“Certainly not ask anyone to pay for keeping them secret,” Magdalene said. “Master Mainard had asked, when he was told what was in the packet Johannes Gerlund was holding for his wife, if the evidence could not be destroyed. To speak the truth, I was wondering the same. Old sins, long repented and expiated, likely should be forgotten. Give me a good reason why you employed Gervase de Genlis to swear falsely, and perhaps they will be.”

“That is easy enough,” Jokel de Josne said immediately. “The merchants from whom I bought were gone from England, the receipts I had were in some heathen script no one could read, and two disappointed buyers were accusing me of stealing the goods. It was cheaper
and easier to get Genlis to swear he was witness to the sale than to fight my accusers.”

“Then why did you pay Bertrild to keep quiet?” Magdalene asked.

He shrugged. “For the same reason. It was cheaper and easier. She did not ask much the first time.”

“She did not ask much?” Ulfmaer echoed. “She was bleeding me white!”

“She knew she could prove nothing against me, no matter what her father wrote,” Josne said. “If you ask me, the only reason she tried to extort money from me was because I was with the rest of you when we brought Genlis here. Remember how she said we had corrupted him and caused his death?”

“There was more involved than spite,” Magdalene remarked coolly. “Bertrild had collected ten pounds.” She looked back at FitzIsabelle. “Perhaps more of it came from you because you robbed Gunther Granger, whose heirs would be frothing at the mouth and placing complaints with the justiciar if a hint of the loss came to them.”

“There were no heirs!” Ulfmaer bellowed. “The estate would have gone to the Crown.”

“Good Lord,” Josne said, laughing, “then you’ve committed treason as well as robbing the dead.”

“That for sure,” Ulfmaer spat. “To which Crown should I have proffered the inheritance? To Stephen, who usurped his cousin’s right? To the empress Matilda, whom we swore to uphold but who could not bestir herself to come to England? To whichever
I made the payment, the other would have called that treason and support of the enemy.”

He swung his head from side to side like a baited bear. Magdalene did not like Ulfmaer FitzIsabelle, but if it was true that there were no heirs, she found herself in complete sympathy with the man. She thought she would personally rather have her banker steal her money and use it to enjoy himself or support his wife and family than that it should go into the bottomless maw of the king’s purse. Nonetheless, the hint of treason might have added to the impetus to permanently quiet anyone who had proof of the crime.

“Let us go, Magdalene,” FitzRevery sighed. “We have been punished enough. The farm was not offered to the Church by my father, and the deed was honestly lost. If he had given it to the priest, would the priest not have brought it out and showed it when the case was argued? Because there was no deed, the judges would not give a final decision and that
priest tormented me until at last I decided to find a deed. Is that so great a sin?”

“Perhaps not,” Magdalene said, “but it grew, did it not? You carried letters to the rebels in Normandy.”

“No!” FitzRevery shouted. “I carried a packet to a wool factor in Brugge. Yes, Genlis asked me to carry the packet, but I had no reason to suspect that there was treasonous matter in it. Genlis
just asked. He did not threaten me or give me the smallest reason to suspect him of involvement with Talbot, Lovel, and Fitzjohn. It was only when I came back that he came to my shop and explained what I had done.”

He came forward toward the table then, but his eyes were on Mainard, not on the documents. “May God forgive me, for I know you never will, Mainard. I have violated your trust—but I was desperate. Do you know how a man convicted of treason dies? Do you know that all his possessions are confiscated? My son would have starved, my daughter been tainted.” He looked down, not at the table; his eyes were empty. “It seemed such a small thing, to open the door. I did not let them damage anything except the one thing you were working on after Bertrild died…. Will you let us all be destroyed because we searched your house and shop?”

“This is ridiculous,” Lintun Mercer said. “I was not desperate and will not be destroyed. I committed no crime. An old man was afraid to tell his daughter and son the truth about disposing of his business so he lied to them and left me with a nasty problem. Likely he did not expect to die so soon. He thought he would have time to explain to them. Why I paid? As Josne said, it was easier than adding a new doubt to the case being considered.”

“But I know that seals were removed from one document and placed on another for you. You were recognized—”

“Lies,” Mercer said, glaring at Magdalene. “Tell me who you have to speak against me.”

“The man you paid to have the work done and the woman who did the work.”

“A beggarmaster and a mute whore?” Mercer uttered a short bark of laughter without any humor in it. “As I said, I paid not out of fear but because I wanted no complications in the case to be presented to the justiciar. This is not worth discussing. If you want to bring the accusations to the justiciar, do so. I came to keep the others company.”

Magdalene nodded acknowledgment and looked questioningly at John Herlyoud who said, “Perhaps what I did was a crime, but I did not think
so when I did it, nearly twenty years ago, and I do not think so now. I was treated unfairly by a hard, greedy master. I begged for release, but he would not free me, so I left him without permission. Because I did not wish to starve in the road, I needed a letter that would permit me to look for another master.”

“How did you know that Genlis would write such a letter for you?” Magdalene asked.

Herlyoud looked down then up again, frowning. “I do not remember,” he said. “Perhaps my master did business with him that I knew was not honest. Perhaps a servant of his heard me complain and hinted he would help me for a price. I had to pay him every farthing I
had earned and saved over ten years. I am not sure. What can it matter twenty years later? I satisfied my second master, and I kept in mind the lessons I learned and have been, I believe, a good master to my own journeymen and apprentices.”