Chains of Folly (12 page)

Bell’s eyes narrowed. “From the way he poked me in the back, I would say he does not know his own strength or, more likely, he enjoys causing pain. That would make him a likely suspect for the man who beat Nelda, but if so we will lose another lead. If he had killed her, he would not need to ask if she were dead.”

Magdalene looked at him with lifted brows. “Not all big men are stupid,” she remarked, and smiled as she touched his cheek. “This one, however, is so distinctive from your description that if he had ever dealt with Nelda at all, he would be recognized. Thus, he had to pretend ignorance and the best way was to ask directly.”

Bell had frozen for a moment when Magdalene touched his cheek, offering comfort and affection. But she was a whore! Her body and her affection were for sale to any man. As the thought came into his mind, he knew it was false, but he had to cling to it. If he did not…if he did not he would slip back into being her man and have to accept the fact that he shared not only her body but also her heart. Whore! With an effort, he recalled to mind what she had said.

“That is reasonable, but then why did he not say he was sorry, or some such? Why say she deserved it and that she was a thieving bitch?”

“I will lay odds because he fears or knows someone heard him accusing Nelda of stealing something.”

Bell nodded slowly and then sighed. “I suppose so, but when I will have time to question him I do
not
know. The bishop needs my escort tomorrow. He is going to St. Paul’s where he will meet the archbishop and he will also question Father Holdyn about how Nelda came to have his crucifix. And I need to speak to Master Rhyton also. Linley seems cleared, but I wish to confirm with Rhyton that Linley was there.”

“Do not bother with Master Rhyton,” Magdalene said. “I will visit him to ask permission to show Claresta my embroidery. Perhaps she will wish to order trimmings for her wedding gown or embroidered linens for her dowry.”

“And how will you have heard of this proposed marriage?”

Magdalene laughed. “Why from one of Linley’s fellow knights, who was babbling of it to the woman he used…ah, no…that will not do. I do not wish to be known as a whoremistress but as an embroiderer. Oh, that is still easy. I will have heard from FitzRevery’s daughter, whose husband knows one of Linley’s fellow knights. FitzRevery still owes me for helping him win back Mainard’s regard.”

“You are jesting!” Bell exclaimed, laughing softly. “I cannot believe that Mainard could hold a grudge for five minutes together and more especially against FitzRevery, who is one of the few people who can look into his face with that horrible birthmark without wincing or turning away.”

Magdalene laughed too. “When the men of the Bridge Guild searched Mainard’s shop for the accounts Mainard’s wife was using to extort money from them, some of them searched Sabina’s rooms above the shop and disarranged the furniture. Mainard would forgive a man in five minutes for cutting off his arm, but to cause Sabina to bump into a chair, to throw Sabina’s gowns on the floor—that was unforgivable.” The smile disappeared from Magdalene’s lips. “Oh, yes, if it touches Sabina, Mainard can hold a grudge.”

“I believe you. She was a whore and yet he married her and seems more than content.”

“She gives him no reason to doubt her, but to Mainard it does not matter. He would keep her and love her if she were as promiscuous as Diot. Jealousy would only tear
him
apart. It would not make him blame Sabina, nor quarrel with her, nor strike her, nor threaten her, nor leave her.”

Magdalene’s eyes flicked to Bell’s face and then away. He had left her out of jealousy. He did not speak, however, and after a moment his jaw, which had clenched, relaxed, and he shook his head.

“How did we get to speaking of Mainard?”

“From Master Rhyton, whom I will approach tomorrow morning to show my embroideries. I think I can get the time Linley left from Rhyton, but far more important is that I can discover from Claresta whether they would lie for Linley.”

“From Claresta?”

“If the marriage is of her making, if she has fallen in love with Linley or desperately craves the status of being a lady, a baron’s wife, she will herself lie for him and, since she had influence enough to induce her father to make the marriage, induce him to lie also.”

“Even if she learns that he killed a woman?”

Magdalene snorted softly. “The kind that desires the title ‘lady’ above all else will not care for the death of a whore. She might even take as a compliment that Linley would kill to have her to wife. Even if she guesses it is her father’s money he wants, she will not care if she does not deeply desire the man himself. And likely Master Rhyton would not consider the death of a whore important enough to smirch a son-by-marriage who will someday be a baron.”

Bell sighed. “I hate to agree with you, but likely you are right. Certainly it is better that you speak to Claresta. I would never be able to judge whether she was telling the truth about her feeling for Linley. If you can get information from Rhyton, that will be fine but it is more important that you be introduced to the daughter. If needed, I can speak to Rhyton later. He might not mind a son-by-marriage who killed his whore to soothe his betrothed’s jealousy, but one who deals with letters from Gloucester might give him pause.”

As he said the last few words, Bell started to rise. “It will be better if I go before your women return. They will want to start a game of nine-man-morris and—”

There was a rap on the door. Bell’s right hand flashed to his sword hilt, his left to his knife, and the bench hit the ground with a clatter as he pushed it aside to get to his feet. “Who comes in without ringing the bell?” he snarled, rage and suspicion lighting his eyes in his quick glance at Magdalene.

“Just off, mistress,” Tom Watchman’s coarse voice came through the crack he had opened the door. “You’ll want to lock up behind me.”

“I will, Tom,” Magdalene replied. “Don’t worry. Sir Bell’s here.”

“Ah. That be good then.”

The door closed and Bell stepped over the bench. “Why did you tell him that? I’m leaving too.”

“No, not yet. Hearing Tom reminded me that he knew Nelda and he told me things you should know.”

“Tom could afford Nelda?”

Magdalene laughed. “No, of course not. He knew her because she was forced to call for the Watch several times when men tried to break into her chamber.”

“She was not
that
desirable.”

Magdalene laughed again. “Will you get your mind out from between Nelda’s legs! Tom believes those were the men who were not much bemused and realized that she had stolen from them. He knows that there were complaints to the sheriff but nothing ever came of them. Nelda never sold any item she was accused of stealing and nothing was ever found. I suppose Linley also exerted some influence.”

“As Lord William does for you.” Bell’s voice was cold.

Magdalene met his eyes and said, “Yes, and has for many years—ten at least. And I am very grateful. I shudder to think what troubles would fall upon me if he withdrew his protection.”

Bell’s jaw clamped tight again. What he wanted to do was cry out that he would protect her, but he knew that was ridiculous. William of Ypres might not be the king’s favorite any longer, but Stephen still needed him and would surely accommodate him in so small a thing as squashing Bell like a bug. And to offer Magdalene the bishop’s protection would be a dangerous lie. Doubtless there were things Winchester would be willing to do at his request, but to involve himself openly with a whore…

There was a short, tight silence before Bell said, “So what more did Tom tell you that I needed to hear. We both knew that Nelda was a thief.”

“That she did not sell her gleanings was interesting when coupled with the coins in her secret box. To me that spells extortion.”

Bell sighed. “To me also. We will need to identify the owners of the rings and the seal.”

“Moreover, Tom told me that Nelda is not the only tenant of the top floor. There is another whore, called Tayte, who lives in one room. He says Tayte is very quiet and the Watch has never been summoned by her or because of her. I will undertake to talk to Tayte. If she does not respond to a few coins, you can take over.”

“What about the shop below?”

Magdalene shook her head. “Tom says the woman who keeps it is blind and deaf
always
to everything, not to be moved by coin or by threats. He thinks she is very much afraid of something or someone, but has no idea who or what inspires the fear. He thought real torture might—”

“I do not think the matter of what she saw or heard is important enough for that.” Bell’s mouth was tight with distaste and he shook himself as a dog does to free itself from water in an attempt to rid himself of the memory of questioning the men who had attacked the bishop. “However,” he added quickly, “her fear is also interesting. Perhaps I will set a man or two to watching the shop. And now—” he bent and lifted the bench he had overturned into position “—it is time for me—”

The bell at the gate rang clamorously. Magdalene jerked and bit her lip. “Good God,” she whispered, coming to her feet, “I forgot to lock it.”

Bell already had his sword belted on and he followed a step or two behind Magdalene. The bell rang again, pulled so hard that it nearly sprang from the arm that held it.

“Be gone!” Magdalene called, hurrying to the gate. “It is Sunday night. We do no business on Sunday.”

As she spoke, she reached for the bar that could fix the gate closed against anything less forceful than a battering ram. It was just out of her grasp, and she stepped sideways to seize it, which was lucky, because the gate sprang open under a forceful push, blocking Bell momentarily. A man stinking of sour wine and vomit staggered in.

“Who do you think you are to set times?” he bellowed, gazing around muzzily, until his gaze finally found Magdalene. “Filthy whore!” He turned toward her, knife out. “You and your kind will spread your legs when
we
—Aieee!”

Magdalene had swung the gate bar and caught him on the shoulder. The knife dropped from his hand and he staggered back. She swung again, this time catching him on the side of the head. He went down, just as two more men staggered through the open gate. Magdalene lifted the bar again, but Bell had already come around and tapped both with the flat of his sword. One had flown back out of the gate; the other was lying on the ground spitting out blood and broken teeth.

Bell stepped out of the gate and looked at the three men who had drawn swords and were about to rush in. “Pick up your offal and get out,” he said. One stepped forward, and Bell knocked the sword out of his hand. “Next man who waves a sword at me loses his sword hand,” he said. “Put your weapons away and remove the two pieces of garbage from the gate. I give you a quarter candlemark to be—”

“No, Letice! Don’t cut his throat!” Magdalene’s voice was high and urgent.

Bell stepped sideways away from the gate. His principal attention was still on the three men, who paused in sheathing their weapons to stare through the opening at Letice. Magdalene had a grip on her arm and was preventing her from stooping over the man Magdalene had felled. A long, wickedly curved knife—almost a scimitar— was reaching toward the man, who was starting to move.

Unable to resist. Bell grinned. He was not certain whether that was a bit of play-acting to convince the drunken group that the Old Priory Guesthouse was not a safe place to invade by force or whether Letice
had
intended to cut the man’s throat. Now he stepped sideways and gestured with his sword.

Somewhat sobered by what had happened and watching Bell nervously the three entered the gate. They did not escape unscathed. Dulcie swung her fry-pan at the one who bent to help up the man Letice had threatened. She hit him on the behind with such force that he screeched as he flew over his comrade’s head and fell face first in the dirt. But when he jumped up, yelling, Diot prodded him, just beyond his kidney, ungently, with the knife in her hand.

“Pick up that filth and get it out of here,” she snarled, “or I will hold you down while Letice gelds you.”

At which remark, Letice smiled and rotated the hooked tip of her blade suggestively. Bell stepped a little farther from the gate to give the men room, watched them as they picked up their damaged companions, and staggered north toward the river. He thought briefly of following them and pushing them in but then shrugged and came inside.

“I am so sorry we were slow in coming,” Diot was saying as Magdalene put the bar into its sockets and hooked up the chain for good measure. “Letice and I were both undressed so that Ella could fit the gown to Letice and see if there would be enough silk for me to use. When we heard the noise, Letice went to get Dulcie and I had to get Ella into her room.”

“It is my own fault,” Magdalene said, sighing. Her hands were trembling and she knotted them together. “Tom told me when he left to lock up after him, but instead of hooking up the chain—

“Yes,” Bell said, “and so you should have done, but you never had a chain on the gate before. Why is Tom staying here? What happened in the weeks Magdalene was gone?”

“It was Father Etienne’s idea,” Diot said, as they all walked toward the house.

“Who is Father Etienne?” Bell asked.

“He is the clerk Lord William sent to help us if there was any trouble while Magdalene was gone. At first I was a little hesitant, thinking the chain might give clients the wrong impression atop having Tom sleep in the stable because his lodging burnt down, but Father Etienne said that with all the great men out of the city there might be some disorder. And he was right. We had several drunken groups who tried to force their way in.”

“This place is not marked as a house of ease. How did they know?” Bell asked.

Diot’s eyes widened, “I never thought. Someone had to tell them. Apurpose? But why?”

“Not necessarily apurpose for ill,” Magdalene pointed out, her lips twisting wryly. “I am sure some mention disporting themselves at the Old Priory Guesthouse as a boast or innocently to praise the entertainment here.”