Roberta Gellis (33 page)

She started violently, then reached up to catch the clapper as she saw the bell tilt to ring again. If she could have done so without disturbing the two statues at her door, she would have shouted to whoever was outside to go away. Since that was impossible, she opened the gate just enough to peer out, opened her mouth to send the person away, and then opened the gate a bit wider.

The man outside was certainly no client. He was dressed like a decent servant, and his face was so twisted with anxiety that Magdalene had some difficulty remembering
that this was, or rather had been, Bertrild’s slave Jean.

“Is this the Old Priory Guesthouse?” Jean asked in a breathless voice. “Is Master Mainard here? I have just come from his shop, and Codi told me he was coming here.”

“Yes, he is here,” Magdalene said cautiously. “Can you give me a message so that he does not need to be disturbed?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jean faltered. “His uncle-by-marriage, Sir Druerie, is come from Swythling
and is asking for him.”

“Sir Druerie!” Magdalene echoed, and opened the gate wider. “Come in, Jean. You had better tell your master this yourself.”

Magdalene woke in a foul mood on Saturday morning. That was not very surprising because she had gone to bed in a foul mood the night before and had not slept well enough to wipe away her anger and frustration. She had been furious with Mainard and even more furious with Sabina because she had not tried to hold him or make him promise to return. A quarter candlemark, Magdalene was sure, could have made no difference to Sir Druerie’s business, whereas a promise of some kind would have been of great importance to Sabina.

However, when Mainard had heard Jean out and said, “Sir Druerie? What can have brought him all the way to London?” Sabina had only leaned forward, kissed him lightly, and said, “Go, love. You had better find out.”

He had started away at once, then stopped and looked back. “You stay here, Sabina. Do not go back to the shop. I do not want you there while Sir Druerie is in London.”

That could have meant anything at all. Sabina plainly took it to mean that when Sir Druerie was gone, Mainard would want her back. Perhaps there had been some silent communication between the two of which she had been unaware, but Magdalene was afraid that once Mainard was away from Sabina, he would fall prey to even stronger doubts. Then, remembering what had happened as soon as he saw her, he might resolve not to see her again because it was too dangerous. Poor Sabina would be hurt so much
the worse for her period of hope.

The morning did not improve. There were two early clients—Saturday was a very busy day—one for Diot, a man who came in complaining bitterly because it was raining (as if Magdalene should have arranged better weather for him), and one for Ella, this one dissatisfied because Magdalene could find no better time to accommodate him. Those had barely been tucked away with their companions when Bell arrived, soaking wet, in a violent rage. Borc had escaped Octadenarius’s men!

“How?” Magdalene asked, taking his dripping cloak to hang near the fire and coming hurriedly back to the table with a fresh cup for ale.

“Herlyoud,” Bell said succinctly. “Borc went into Herlyoud’s shop and never came out again. After waiting for him about a quarter candlemark, our man went in also, but the journeyman swore that Herlyoud was not there and had not been all day. Of course, he equally swore that no such man as Borc had entered the place.”

“Good God,” Magdalene breathed. “Herlyoud must be Saeger, but—but that is physically impossible! You mean Borc left the prison and went straight to Herlyoud’s shop and disappeared?”

“No, no,” Bell said. “Actually Herlyoud’s was the last place he visited.”

Magdalene shook her head. “Why did he go to Herlyoud’s last if…. No, I am only confusing myself. Tell me what happened from the beginning, please.”

“Octadenarius was as good as his word,” Bell growled. “There were four men following Borc when he left the Tun. They had all had plenty of chance
to watch him, were sure they knew him, and Borc gave not the slightest sign of suspicion that he was being followed.”

“Are you sure he is not shrewd enough to hide that?”

“Perhaps he is, but he would not have been shrewd enough when he left the Tun. Octadenarius had a brilliant idea. One of the gaolers carried in two skins of bad wine, pretending he had mistaken Borc’s cell for another, one floor up or down. As you can imagine, Borc wasted no time in drinking as much of the wine as he could pour down his throat before the gaoler recognized his mistake. He was all but falling-down drunk when he was released.”

Magdalene raised her brows. “That
was
a good idea.”

“It seems to have worked. Borc went straight south—well,
as straight as a man that drunk could walk—to Jokel de Josne’s shop. One of the men, realizing where he was going, beat him to the counter, but the journeyman there did not give Borc a chance to say anything. He came around the counter, struck Borc a violent blow, saying ‘I warned you!’ and drove him away with kicks and curses.”

“That does not sound much like Josne fears exposure by Borc, yet he
could
be Saeger. His whereabouts are unknown over the right years.”

“Borc may never have seen Saeger, you know. He seemed to know the name—he did not lie about that—but he may have heard his master talking about Saeger rather than having dealt with him.”

She shook her head. “Where else did he go?”

Bell gave a disgusted snort. “To every man who was in Mainard’s shop on that Friday—including Mainard himself. And none of the others was rid of him so summarily as Josne. He worked his way down the Chepe from Josne’s shop. There was only an apprentice at the counter at Lintun Mercer’s and Borc slipped inside, but he came out again before Octadenarius’s man could follow. He may have got money there; the man said Borc looked smug and self-satisfied when he came out.”

“Then?”

“He went on to Perekin FitzRevery’s place. The man thinks he was handed a coin or two there also because he was smiling and just tucking away his purse in the doorway, and he certainly got money from Mainard.”

“Mainard? You cannot mean that Bertrild was extorting money from Mainard. He’s not in Gervase’s notes at all.”

“No, but Mainard confirmed that he had given Borc money. One of Octadenarius’s men stopped him when he was leaving his shop to come here and asked what Borc wanted. Mainard said he had complained that he had been employed by Bertrild and that she had not paid him his week’s wages. Mainard said he doubted the truth of Borc’s complaint but gave him two pence anyway and told him he would give him no more.”

Magdalene sighed. “Sometimes Mainard makes it hard to believe in his innocence. Would you give Borc money because he said your dead wife owed it to him? And two pence? Maybe two farthings for pity and to be rid of him without any noise, but two pence?”

“He got more from Ulfmaer FitzIsabelle. Our man was lucky—or clever. I think Octadenarius told his men about the five who could have got the knife and when they saw that Borc had already visited three of them, the man got into Ulfmaer’s shop before Borc did. He was looking at some silver brooches when Borc arrived. Borc was pushed out of the shop, not into the street but into a back room where a shouting match soon began, during which our man heard something about five pence.”

“Five pence,” Magdalene repeated.

Bell nodded. “Our man did not hide the fact that he was listening. He pretended to be surprised by the loud voices and asked what was going on. The journeyman said it was a distant, ruined relative. Not long after, Borc came out looking very satisfied. He then walked across the road to Herlyoud’s place. That was as much as that man saw. Another took up the chase and said that at Herlyoud’s the journeyman actually invited Borc in—”

Bell stopped and sighed. “I suppose the man should have been suspicious at such a show of cordiality, but he was alone by then, the other three needing to keep out of the way because Borc may have noticed them at his other stops. He could not send anyone around to watch the back alley….”

“But if he did not go out through one of the gates he must still be in the city. I am sure Master Octadenarius sent someone to question the gate guards, and Borc is fairly noticeable.”

“Unfortunately he is not as noticeable as one would think, but it’s true that the gate guards do stop the extra ragged to make sure they are not carrying out of the city valuables they could not possibly own. No, he did not pass the gates.”

“Then he is in the city.” Now Magdalene sighed. “There are bolt holes enough, but who would give him …. Oh, of course, the man had at least seven pence and possibly more, depending on what he got from FitzRevery. He could easily buy a hiding place. Well, I will ask around—”

“Oh no, you will not—” Bell began.

The gate bell pealed, short and sharp. “No!” Magdalene wailed.

“Not now!” But she pushed back the bench and rose, shaking her head to forestall the comment Bell was about to make. “Saturday is always busy, but Letice is free, and I charge an extra penny for those who do not make an appointment ahead of time. I have rent to pay and need the silver.”

She took her cloak from a peg near the door, threw it over her shoulders, and pulled the hood over her head. The bell pealed again. The door, which Magdalene had opened, was not pulled closed, and she cocked her head to listen. Then suddenly she ran out, leaving the door open. Bell jumped up and followed her, realizing that she had heard something unusual.

He heard it too, the moment he was out of the door, a child’s voice wailing “Mistress Magdalene! Mistress Magdalene! Oh, please come. Please come.”

She had the gate open by the time Bell reached her and Stoc, Mainard’s youngest apprentice stumbled in, shivering, weeping, and drenched to the skin. Instinctively, Magdalene threw part of her cape over him—although it was doubtful he could get any wetter.

“What is it, child?” she asked. “Is something wrong with Master Mainard?”

“Dead. He’s dead. I saw him.” The boy’s eyes were staring wide.

“Oh, my God,” Magdalene breathed, slipping to her knees in the wet grass. “Bell, did you hear?”

He took the child by the shoulder and shook him. “Stoc, where is your master lying?”

“Here,” the boy answered. “Codi sent me to fetch him. He told me beyond the bridge, along the wall until I saw a gate and to ring the bell. I had to jump. The bell rope is too high. Master Mainard must come at once.”

Magdalene drew a gasping breath. “Then who is dead?”

“I don’t know,” Stoc wailed. “He was some dirty, stinking beggar who came in the shop yesterday, pushed right past Henry. He hurt Henry’s hand! There were horses out back yesterday, and when Codi saw it was raining, he sent me out to pick up the manure so it shouldn’t get all over the path. He was outside the gate and his face….”

The boy turned his head into Magdalene’s shoulder and began to tremble so hard she thought he would fall.

“Borc!” Bell said, then pulled Magdalene upright and pushed her and the boy toward the door. “Come inside before we all drown.” And when they had closed the door behind them,
he said, “You’d better wake Mainard and tell him there’s another corpse outside his shop.”

“He’s not here!” Magdalene exclaimed. “That’s why I nearly fainted when the boy said he was dead. His wife’s uncle, Sir Druerie, arrived yesterday. The servant, Jean, came from the Lime Street house. Codi must have forgotten that he sent Jean here to tell Mainard that Sir Druerie had come. When the boy said he was dead, I thought Sir Druerie had killed Mainard in revenge for his niece’s death.”

“You mean without even asking Mainard whether he had done it?” Bell asked, starting to laugh, and then stopping abruptly to slam the fist of one hand into the palm of the other while using such language that Magdalene put her hands over Stoc’s ears. When he was out of obscenities, he said, “If the dead man is Borc, we’ve lost him even more thoroughly than if he were hidden in London. And if he’s dead, then that means he
did
know who Saeger is.”

“And it means that Saeger must be here in the city.” Magdalene’s eyes widened. “Could he have come with Sir Druerie?”

“Please,” Stoc said, hiccupping on tears, “where is my master? He must come to the shop and tell us what to do.”

“He is at Lime Street, child. Do you not remember that Jean came to ask for him, and Codi sent Jean here?”

The boy cried harder for a moment, then sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “I did forget, and Codi did, too, I guess. Now I’ll have to go to Lime Street to get him. Gisel went for the justiciar, and Codi is with the body, so I’ll have to—”

“No, I’ll go,” Bell said. “You stay here and dry off and warm up. Then you can go back to the shop.”

“Right, Stoc. You go off to the kitchen now and tell Dulcie—she’s deaf, so you have to yell a little and show her what you need—to dry your clothes and give you something to eat. Bell will bring Master Mainard to the shop.” The boy went off willingly, and Magdalene smiled at Bell. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know if that child
could have gone much farther.”

“I was going there anyway to talk to Sir Druerie,” Bell said. “It is possible that he brought Saeger with him, although how Saeger found Borc or Borc found him, I have no idea. But I think I’d like those wills and the report of the indictment. I want Sir Druerie to understand how dangerous the man is. To use him as a messenger and as a guard for a long ride implies a good deal of trust.”

Magdalene nodded and went to her chamber. In a moment, she was back with a small parcel wrapped in oiled leather.

“I thought you said you had hidden the documents,” Bell remarked, taking the parcel.

“So I did, but I took those out last night and wrapped them ready for a journey. You said you might go to Swythling today.” She put a hand on his arm as he was about to turn away. “You be careful, Bell.”

He looked down at her, a slow smile relieving the grimness of his mouth. “I live in hope,” he murmured,
“And I have no intention of dying until that hope is fulfilled.”