Read To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Online

Authors: Sharan Newman

To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (24 page)

BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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“I’m forever in your debt,” Astrolabe said, and vanished into the hall.
Edgar took Margaret by the elbow and led her up to her bed. Catherine followed to check on the children before she snatched whatever rest she could before they awoke.
Once Margaret had been settled, Catherine headed for the counting room, but Edgar stopped her.
“It will wait,
leoffest,
” he said. “We’ve had a harrowing evening, and we both need sleep. No one will take Hubert’s treasure before morning.”
Catherine was almost falling down with fatigue. Edgar closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“But Edgar!” Catherine couldn’t believe him. “How can you think of sleeping?”
“I’m exhausted,” he said. “And so are you. Your father has caused us enough trouble for one night.”
She felt shaky and ill from too much food, wine, fear and shock. She didn’t even have the energy to cry, much less argue. They went into their bed chamber. As they took off their elegant, stained banquet clothes, she shook her head at their condition. She’d never wear those shoes again. Then, just as she got into bed, she brightened.
“At least,” she murmured into the back of Edgar’s neck, “I didn’t have to sit through those damn dancing bears.”
 
 
They thought they would be awakened by the happy squeals of their progeny jumping onto the bed. However, soon after daybreak and the opening of the city gates there was a pounding on their door.
Catherine barely opened her eyes as she heard Martin trudging down to see who was disturbing them, but Edgar was alert at once and was throwing his tunic over his head and pulling on his
brais
before they heard the creak of the hinges and Martin’s querulous voice demanding to know who wanted them so early.
Edgar was down the stairs before Martin even started climbing them.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Some servant of the Lady Genta’s.” Martin shook his head. “Old poke nose wants to know if everything’s all right, as you left her gathering so suddenly.”
“Origen’s lost genitals!” Edgar swore. “As if we didn’t have enough. Go on up and tell Catherine not to worry. I’ll deal with this.”
He opened the door wide to reveal a smirking young man, still dressed as if for a feast. The servant bowed.
“Greetings, Lord Edgar.” He smiled. “Mistress Genta sends her regards and asks if she can be of any service to you.”
Edgar regarded him as if he were a particularly repellent form of slug.
“Thank Genta for her concern and assure her that we are all fine,” he said. “The dinner, while sumptuous, disagreed with my wife. Of course my first care was to see her home safely. Give your mistress our apologies.”
The man started to say more, but Edgar had endured enough and shut the door.
He went back up to find Catherine in her shift in the counting room, taking books out of the chest.
“What did the man want?”
Edgar told her.
“Wonderful,” she said. “Now I’m an adulteress with no manners and a bad stomach.”
“You don’t seem terribly upset about your ruined reputation,” Edgar said.
“I’m more interested in this. I checked on Edana and James,” she assured him, as she saw him look up toward the children’s room. “They’re playing quietly so as not to wake Margaret. It was their own idea. I don’t question miracles. Now.” She got the last book out and bent into the chest. “Look! How could I have been so stupid all these years?”
The bottom of the chest was not only several inches higher than the outside edge, but the board wasn’t even nailed down, only held in place by a wedge underneath. It was a simple matter to lift it.
“How long do you think he’s been hiding this?” Edgar asked.
“Maybe all my life,” Catherine said. “What could it be?”
The box they had revealed gave no indication of its contents. Edgar lifted it out with a grunt. It was heavier than he had guessed. Catherine caught it before it slipped from his hand.
There was no rattle. Whatever lay inside was either the same size as the box or well padded.
“Can’t we get something to pry it open?” Catherine suggested.
“No,” Edgar said. “It’s best to take it directly to your father.” He saw her consternation. “I know. I’m afire with curiosity myself, but we might damage whatever it is. And, if we’re caught with it, it’s better to be genuinely ignorant of the contents.”
“Do you think it’s something forbidden?” she asked, staring at the uncommunicative wood.
“Yes,” he said. “Or it would have been sent with the other valuables to your brother or to Saint Denis.”
Catherine looked at the roughly made box. It hadn’t been scarred by infernal flames eating their way out. There was no feel of the supernatural about it. Yet her father had never told her of its existence and had put them all at risk by coming back from Arles to retrieve it.
“Edgar, if I don’t find out what’s inside this box, I’m going to go mad.”
Her consternation was so great that Edgar was forced to laugh. She seemed like a small child deprived of a present.
“Very well, Pandora,” he said. “I’ll get a canvas bag to wrap it in and we’ll take it to Abraham as soon as Samonie is awake.”
Catherine had forgotten her promise to let the woman make up the sleep she had lost on their account. She made a face and got to her feet.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll get James and Edana dressed and fed. Perhaps we’ll make so much noise, unintentionally of course, that Samonie won’t be able to stay abed but get up to see what’s going on.”
Thus cheered, she went back up to see what noiseless disorder the children had managed to make.
Edgar did try to be quiet as he crossed the hall to the stairs down to the kitchen, but Astrolabe was already up and gone. Surprised, Edgar went on down to find his friend stirring the barley broth for the morning meal.
“I heard the scraping in the counting room,” he greeted Edgar. “Did you find the hidden treasure?”
“We found something,” Edgar said. “At least the thieves didn’t take it.”
“Do you think anyone was looking for it?” Astrolabe asked. “I had the impression that most people thought Hubert had a cache of jewels or rare spices. From the way he spoke last night, I don’t think that’s what he was hiding.”
Edgar threw himself down on a bench in exasperation.
“Astrolabe, I haven’t known what was happening in or around this house since we came home,” he complained. “The past three weeks have been nothing but one inexplicable event after another. I’m beginning to think that there never was a body in the house, just a phantasm left by Satan to lead us into disaster.”
Astrolabe continued stirring.
“Well,” he said after a moment’s reflection, “you know I’m not a scholar like my parents or you and Catherine. But I’d say the Devil works more often through people of weak faith rather than confronting the righteous directly. It would be easier for him to use a real body murdered by some poor damned soul than to fabricate one from æther. There, I got up most of the bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Shall we eat?”
 
 
Clemence had not taken kindly to being brought back to the care of the nuns on Montmartre.
“Why can’t I come with you to see this Jehan?” she had asked.
Lambert had spent most of the trip up the hill explaining to her why the place they were staying wasn’t proper for her. She hadn’t believed him, but since he was so earnest about it, she had finally acquiesced.
Now she was sorry. Out there, all sorts of things were happening that could affect her life. All this talk about a body that might be her father. Didn’t Lambert realize what that meant? He thought only about the possibility that the two of them might be parted and she coerced into another marriage. That would be terrible, but not as bad as losing both her mother and her father within the space of a month.
She couldn’t wait patiently. She didn’t want to wait at all.
Her inner turmoil was not evident to the nun who came and asked her help with the alms again.
Clemence opened her mouth to snap a refusal. Then she thought of her mother and followed obediently, offering this sacrifice for the peace of her soul.
There were other women staying at Montmartre. Some of them had been among the party at the Temple the day before. Clemence wanted to ask them about it but was afraid of their taking too great an interest in her. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to care who listened to their gossip as they shoved broken loaves at the poor.
“The spoons were all marked, you know,” one said. “And the butler had his eye out for anyone trying to slip away without giving theirs back.”
“Too bad you missed your chance.” Another laughed. “I rather enjoyed myself. Genta doesn’t stint with the sauces. Everything spiced so that you wouldn’t know what meat it was. I’d like the use of her spice box during Lent. I can only think of so many ways to make eggs and fish.”
“I thought it was overdone,” a third woman said. “Not the meat, everything. Genta tries too hard. She knows we wouldn’t have anything to do with her if it weren’t for the old queen’s patronage.”
“Why not?” Clemence asked, forgetting herself.
The three women turned to stare at her, and she blushed in embarrassment.
The third speaker, an attractive woman with large green eyes and rosy cheeks, smiled at her.
“If you’re going to stay in Paris dear, you should know.” She let her voice drop slightly. “Genta’s really a Jew at heart. Her parents had her baptized, since they were at court, but no one really trusts her.”
Clemence nodded politely, puzzled. She hadn’t ever met a Jew that she knew of, but her father had dealt with them and never said anything bad. They were infidels, of course, but she’d never heard they were untrustworthy.
She wished she were home.
The women went on with their critique of the evening. The entertainment had been too long, especially the poet. The pages hadn’t circulated often enough with the soap and water.
“And that poor woman who ran out sick,” said one. “I’d have sent a servant after her at once, to attend to her.”
“Didn’t you hear?” the green-eyed woman smirked. “She wasn’t ill at all. Giselbert Trickster saw her leaving with another man. Her husband ran out after her, spewing flames, he told me.”
“Are you certain?” the other asked. “She looked positively bilious to me. And you know how Giselbert likes to joke.”
Clemence lost interest then.
 
Despite the amount of clatter Catherine made, Samonie didn’t wake until the afternoon. A short time later, Catherine and Edgar set out for Abraham’s house. Edgar carried the heavy box in a bag over his shoulder.
“I’m not leaving without seeing what’s in it,” Catherine said. “I don’t care how dangerous Father thinks it is. I’ll be consumed by curiousity for the rest of my life, otherwise.”
“He owes us that,” Edgar agreed.
When they got to Abraham’s, they found a number of men and women standing by the gate. They were trying to appear as if they
had all just happened to meet there and stopped for a chat. But the eagerness in their faces as they saw Edgar and Catherine ride up was unmistakable.
“Good day, Isaac, Bella, Yehiel,” Catherine said to those she recognized. “How nice to see you again.”
She stayed close to Edgar as they approached the door, which was opened at once. No one made a move toward them. They only looked on with reverence. It made Catherine acutely uncomfortable. Edgar also felt as if he were carrying some holy relic. He began to cross himself and stopped only just in time to avoid offending those watching. But it made no sense. What could be so holy to Jews? Solomon had often scoffed at the Christian reverence of the bones of the saints.
Joel barely glanced at them as they entered. He reached out to take the box from Edgar.
“No, thank you,” Edgar said. “I’m bringing this to Hubert myself.”
Joel shook his head. “You shouldn’t be there when it’s opened. You’re idolaters.”
Catherine reached out to take his hand. “We’ll be respectful, I promise,” she said. “Perhaps there will be a miracle and we’ll convert.”
“Very funny. That this has survived is enough of a miracle for me,” Joel said, but he didn’t try to stop them from entering the room.
They came into the hall to find Hubert sitting up in bed. Abraham stood beside him. Both were wearing velvet caps. Abraham and Joel were in their best clothing, reserved for holy days. Edgar swung the bag from his back and handed it to Abraham.
It seemed incongruous to Catherine to see the fιnely-dressed men kneeling on the floor with crowbars, prying up the nails from a crude wooden box. She came closer as the lid rose but Rebecca held her back.
BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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