To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (39 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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“Edgar.” Solomon was kneeling by Jehan. “He’s still alive. Help me tie him up before he wakes.”
They used the ropes that Clemence had been bound with. When they had finished, they dragged Jehan out into the dying light.
“How will we get him to the provost?” Solomon asked. “He’s too heavy to carry.”
Edgar stared down on the recumbent form. He would have enjoyed kicking and rolling him the whole way, but too much of it was uphill.
“Clemence and I will go fetch someone with a cart,” Lambert offered.
“Yes. Go to my house. Ask Pagan, who lives next to us,” Edgar said. “He has a cart small enough to make it down the road as far as the path to this hut.”
After they had left, Solomon and Edgar mopped up the spilled beer from their faces and hands. Solomon licked his fingers sadly.
“It was Blue Boar Ascension Feast Special,” he mourned.
“We can drown ourselves in it after we get Jehan safely locked up,” Edgar promised him.
“He won’t slip away this time, will he?” Solomon worried. “Even if no one ever finds the wizard’s body, he still abducted Clemence.”
“My only fear is that he’ll be considered too witless to hang,” Edgar said.
“Mine is that some ignorant priest will set him a pilgrimage as a penance instead of punishing him now,” Solomon said. “I don’t suppose we can prove he also killed ‘Lord Osto.’”
“I don’t see how,” Edgar said. “Although I’d like to try, for Archer’s sake.”
By the time Pagan and Lambert came back with the cart, Jehan was beginning to stir.
“Quickly!” Edgar said. “We forgot to gag him. Where’s that rag he used on Clemence?”
Solomon managed to tie the cloth over Jehan’s mouth before he came fully awake. It took all four men to get him into the cart and then, even trussed up, he shook it so that Pagan was afraid it would upset.
“Keep still!” Edgar ordered. “Or we’ll make you crawl all the way to the provost.”
Jehan subsided.
The sun had set by the time they had made it to the watch house on the
Grand Chastelet
and convinced the guard to lock Jehan up until the provost could arrange a trial for him. The strong aroma of Blue Boar Ascension Feast Special made it harder for them to convince the guard that the matter was serious. When they left Edgar felt as if a load had been taken from him.
“At least we know he can’t do anything to us from there,” Solomon said.
“And nothing will be done about him tomorrow,” Edgar reminded him. “Everyone will be celebrating the Ascension.”
“Not everyone,” Solomon said. “But I wouldn’t mind a bucket or two of that beer. I’ll celebrate
Rosh Hodesh
.”
“What’s that?” Lambert asked.
“The new moon,” said Solomon. “And the start of a new month.”
“A better one, I hope,” Lambert said.
“If it finally sees the departure of all these so-called pilgrims,” Solomon said. “And the end of our troubles with Jehan, it will be.”
 
Clemence was greeted with joy by Catherine.
“We’ll send word to your father at once,” she promised. “He was frantic about you.”
“Can you have your maid fill a bath for me?” Clemence asked. “I’m not hurt, but dirty and sore from the ropes, and the touch of that horrible man.”
“Oh dear, Samonie can’t now,” Catherine said. “Her daughter is very ill. Willa, you remember.”
“Yes, I noticed when I was there that she didn’t seem well,” Clemence said. “I’m sorry she’s worse. Is it very bad?”
Catherine’s eyes filled. “We’re doing what we can, but I don’t believe she’ll last the night. She’s in Samonie’s bed here.”
“Then I’ll just get a basin and wash my face and hands,” Clemence said. “Can I help with Willa?”
“Margaret and Samonie are taking care of her,” Catherine said. “I’ll run over and ask if Hersende can spare her maid to go to the bathhouse with you. The baths are often busy the night before a feast day, but the one here on the Grève isn’t usually as full as the one on the Île, and you won’t have to worry so much about the students playing jokes. You’re sure Jehan is unconscious and tied up?”
“Oh, yes,” Clemence said. “Or I wouldn’t have let Lambert go back to help transport him.”
Thus reassured; Catherine arranged for Clemence’s bath and then returned to the little room off the kitchen where Willa lay, drifting in and out of awareness.
“I’ve made a drink for her,” Catherine said. “It’s heating now.”
Catherine had rummaged in her medicine box, well stocked thanks to Hubert’s travels. From it she had concocted a syrup from pear wine, honey, balsam, myrrh, pepper, ginger, cinnamon, and iris. It was supposed to fortify the body and stop coughs. Even as she poured the medicine into a cup, she was afraid it was too late.
Samonie took the cup and tried to get Willa to drink a bit. Margaret knelt at the end of the bed, trying to rub some warmth into her friend’s feet.
“There, precious, a little more.” Samonie caught the bit that had dribbled from the side of Willa’s mouth and tried to get her to swallow.
“She’s burning with fever, but she complains that her feet are cold,” Margaret said, panic in her voice. “What more can I do?”
“We’ll sponge her with vinegar,” Catherine said. “And we’ll pray.”
“I haven’t stopped praying since I realized she was sick,” Samonie snapped. “Do you think God will pay more heed because you petition Him in Latin?”
“I’m praying directly from my heart.” Catherine laid a hand on Samonie’s shoulder. “Just as I did when the baby was sick.”
Samonie winced. “In that case, try Latin, Hebrew, anything! I’d pray to Satan if I thought he’d save my child.”
“Samonie, don’t talk like that,” Margaret said. “Willa wouldn’t want you to.”
Catherine watched them for a few moments. She could almost see the life ebbing from Willa. There had been talk of going to Genta for help since her father had been a doctor. But it was clear to them now that it was time to bring in the priest.
 
Edgar and Solomon came back with Lambert to find a house in which the lamps hadn’t been lit nor dinner prepared. Catherine met them in the entry.
“James and Edana are asleep in the hall so I can hear if they wake,” she said quietly. “Clemence is at the bathhouse, perfectly safe. Why don’t the three of you go to the tavern across from the baths and bring her home, after you’ve eaten?”
“And you?” Edgar asked.
“I can’t eat tonight,” Catherine answered. “I keep choking on my tears.”
She laid her head on Edgar’s shoulder. He held her close and promised that they would take care of themselves until morning.
“What can we do?” he asked.
“Could you go for the priest at Saint Merri?” Catherine asked. “Father Menhard. He knows Willa. I can’t think that she would have anything to confess, but I know she’d want to receive the rites from a friend.”
“There’s no hope?” Edgar asked.
“Perhaps if she had rested more and had the medicine sooner,” Catherine said. “I don’t know. But now, she has no strength to fight the fever.”
 
 
The three men went, as instructed, first to the church and then to the tavern. They all still smelled of beer, but it wasn’t particularly noticeable there.
“Is it just that we’re almost to Saint John’s Eve or has this been an especially long day?” Lambert said. He put his head on the table while waiting for his fish soup and beer.
A moment later he lifted it up carefully. His hair stuck to the wood.
“Maybe I’ll see how Clemence is coming with her bath,” he said. “I am her husband, after all.”
“The attendant won’t believe you,” Solomon said with certainty. “I’ve tried it.”
“She’ll be out soon,” Edgar said. “I think the three of us need some time to decide what we need to do next. I am sorry that it was your father we found, Lambert. I realize that the shock is still new to you.”
“I don’t think I believe yet. So much … and Jehan, what a fool I was.”
“You helped him?” Edgar was aghast.
“I thought you were holding Clemence,” Lambert explained. “From the outside, everything Jehan told me seemed perfectly logical. You had Lord Osto’s knife. You consort with … ah …”
He looked at Solomon in embarrassment.
“You are known for consorting, Edgar,” Solomon said. “I’ve often meant to speak to you about it.”
“I apologize,” Lambert told Solomon. “I didn’t understand the nature of your business.”
“Very well, now you do,” Edgar said. “The question is what are we to do with Jehan?”
“But the provost has him now, doesn’t he?” Lambert asked. “Clemence will testify that he took her from outside your home. What more do we need to worry about?”
“That he’ll convince the provost of Paris he should be tried by someone else,” Edgar suggested. “His ultimate lord is the count of Champagne, not King Louis.”
“What would happen then?” Lambert asked.
Edgar waited while the barmaid brought their bread, and a bowl of thin fish soup as it was a fast day, and poured more beer for all of them.
“I know Count Thibault,” Solomon said as he tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the soup. “He won’t hang a man who shows repentance or one, like Jehan, who is obviously insane.”
“Then he’ll go free?” Lambert was indignant.
“Not exactly,” Edgar said. “He may be told to leave the country and never return. He was already supposed to be going to fight in Spain, so that wouldn’t be so bad. But we can’t count on him dying there.”
“A pity, but true,” Solomon said. “And you and I may well be in Spain some year and run across him again. I confess I’d like this problem taken care of once and for all time.”
“It’s our own fault,” Edgar said. “We should have called the watch when we found the dead wizard. There are reasons for laws like that.”
He and Solomon sat staring glumly into the soup, occasionally pushing a fish head back under the broth. Lambert tried to share their worry. But he was too busy grappling with the idea that his father had died. In some ways, he had anticipated Bertulf’s death when the men had set out for the Holy Land. He’d borne his worst sorrow then. To his shame, what was uppermost in his mind was the fact that Clemence was standing naked in a warm soapy tub just across the road.
“Is there a section for men at this bathhouse?” he asked suddenly.
Edgar and Solomon looked at him in surprise. Then they both looked down, trying to hide their grins.
“I believe so,” Edgar said. “Here are a couple of sous. You’ll have to hurry. She’s been there quite a while.”
They managed to contain their laughter until Lambert was out the door.
“It would be a
mitzvah
if you and Catherine donated your bed to them tonight.” Solomon chuckled. “Although I’m sure they’d make do with a blanket in the corner.”
“Catherine probably won’t mind,” Edgar said, thinking of Willa. “I doubt she was planning to sleep tonight anyway.”
Solomon nodded. “Margaret will be devastated. Willa is her friend.” He stared into his beer a moment. “I didn’t want to speak of it in front of the boy,” Solomon said, changing the subject, “but what about the accusation against Archer? He could be convicted solely on the evidence that he had fought with Bertulf. I wouldn’t mind if he had done it. The man avoids Jews like lepers. But I can’t see it somehow.”
“Neither can I,” Edgar said. “Richilde says he was home before Compline, but a wife will lie to protect her husband. No one else saw him after he left the inn. If we could just place Jehan there.”
“It was Godfrey who discovered the body,” Solomon said. “Perhaps he saw some clue that was ruined when the body was moved. Something he didn’t recognize as important. I wish I’d seen the wound.”
“No, you don’t,” Edgar said, picking up a fish head and popping the eye into his mouth. “It was disgusting. Even after a week or so, it was clear that whatever ran him through wasn’t a sword or knife. It could have been a spear, which would make Archer even more unlikely. I thought of a tent peg, myself. Something wooden, metal tipped at best.”
“Does Archer have a walking stick?” Solomon asked.
“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Edgar said. “Who, apart from cripples, would use one in the city?”
“Right,” Solomon said. “So, what does that leave? A beanpole? Too blunt. The same for a stick for driving cattle. Archer would hardly bring a fishing spear when he went out to drink with his friends.”
“But, if Bertulf went out to the stream to relieve himself, he may have surprised someone poaching fish.”
“Maybe,” Solomon agreed. “You’ll have to ask Godfrey, but I had the impression that the body was found not far from the road. There’s no stream that close.”

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