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

Authors: Sharan Newman

To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (38 page)

BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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Catherine had told Margaret about Lambert’s visit when she came
down, hearing Solomon’s voice. Now she realized that the girl was fretting, as well.
“Jehan won’t beat Clemence, will he?” she asked, her hand rubbing the scar on her cheek.
“Of course not,” Catherine said. “He thinks she’s Agnes. He would never hurt her. Edgar and Solomon will find him before he realizes his mistake.”
The next question surprised her.
“What if Solomon kills Jehan?” Margaret asked. “He could get in trouble for the death of a Christian.”
Catherine remembered an earlier time when this had happened. Solomon had killed to save her life, but Edgar had taken credit for it rather than risk Solomon’s safety.
“Jehan isn’t much of a Christian,” Catherine answered. “And there will be three of them. I’m sure they can take him without serious harm to anyone.”
Margaret nodded doubtfully. Catherine decided that Margaret needed distracting.
“Why don’t you take Martin and go over to Willa’s,” she suggested. “You can collect anything Clemence might have left there. Take Willa some honey and cakes, as well.”
“Yes, I will,” Margaret answered. “But I fear they won’t help her. She seems weaker every day. I think it will take a miracle to make her well.”
“Then we’ll all pray for one.” Catherine kissed her and sent her on her way.
 
“You think Jehan killed the wizard?” Lambert asked as he trotted after Solomon and Edgar. “Shouldn’t we call out the watch?”
“It would take too long,” Edgar answered not wanting to mention his lapse in informing the watch. “You want to get to Clemence before Jehan comes back, don’t you?”
Lambert trotted more quickly.
“What if he’s in there with her?” he asked.
“We’re sending you in first,” Solomon answered, his breath coming in pants as they all sped up. “He doesn’t know you suspect him.”
“Me?” Lambert squeaked. “Face Jehan?”
“It’s your wife in there, isn’t it?” Edgar said.
Lambert’s fists clenched.
“Yes,” he answered, his face suddenly older. “And I’m going to get her out.”
Still Wednesday, early in the evening. Vespers is sounding.
 
Filz Loois, a celer ne te quier,
Quant Deus fist reis por peuple justicier,
Il nel fist mie por false lei jugier,
Faire luxure, ne alever pechié.
Ne orfe enfant por retolir son fié …
 
“My son Louis, never seek to hide the fact
That God made the king to give justice to the people,
He never made him to judge the law falsely
to be debaucherous, nor to promote wickedness,
nor to steal the orphan child’s fief … .
 
—Le Couronnement de Louis
Laisse 13
 
 
“
I
still don’t understand how you decided this was the only place he could have taken her,” Lambert said when they stopped at the head of the path down to the wizard’s hut.
“Not the only, but the most likely. If no one else has been here, you’ll find out soon enough,” Solomon answered. “Now, quietly.”
He and Lambert started down the path. Edgar stayed at the top to watch for Jehan.
“If he’s down there, you’ll hear from us,” Solomon assured him.
They were halfway down when Solomon stopped and looked around, peering into the undergrowth.
“Did you lose something?” Lambert whispered.
“The wizard,” Solomon whispered back. “Jehan must have dumped him in the river. Damn.”
He held up a finger to remind Lambert not to say any more as they approached the hut.
The door was shut. The only sound that came above the running water was a rhythmic thumping from inside, interspersed by an occasional muffled squeak.
Lambert gave a shout, “Sweet Jesus, he’s raping her!” and broke the door open with one blow of his body.
They saw nothing at first in the dim light. Then there was a scrape from one corner and the squeaking rose to a muffled wail.
“Clemence!” Lambert cried. “What has he done to you?”
He pulled off the gag. Clemence took a long breath and then began coughing.
“My dearest!” Lambert cried. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
He felt her all over for signs of injury. While he did, Solomon took out his knife and cut the ropes around her wrists.
“
Fi!
” She cried. “Oh, that hurts. My hands, Lambert, rub them.”
“Anything, my love!”
Clemence tried to hold back her tears, but pain and relief were too much for her.
“I feared no one would ever come.” She sniffed. “That man! He kept calling me Agnes. He was so sure of it that I began to wonder if it weren’t my name after all. Oh, Lambert! I’m so sorry about your father. What are we going to do now?”
“My father?” Lambert stopped his rubbing to stare at her.
Solomon thought it would be better if he were elsewhere. He went back up the path to find Edgar.
“She’s in there,” he said. “Unharmed as far as I could tell. Jehan seems to have only tied her up.”
“That means he hasn’t come back, yet,” Edgar said. “He must be getting his horse and provisions.”
They both thought about that.
“We should take Clemence and Lambert and hurry home before he returns,” Solomon said.
“Then he would get away,” Edgar objected. “How can we prove he killed the wizard if we don’t have the body?”
“He still abducted Clemence,” Solomon reminded him.
“And if he finds her gone, don’t you think he’ll get out of Paris as quickly as he can?” Edgar asked.
“No.” Solomon ran his fingertip along the blade of his knife. “I think he’ll come back to your house, hunting for her. He thinks she’s Agnes, and you’re the ones keeping her imprisoned.”
Edgar looked at him. “That’s insane! After what he’s done, I don’t want to risk him near my family, ever again.”
“I agree,” Solomon said. “That’s why one of us should see that those two naive children get safely back to the house, while the other goes back to the wizard’s hut and waits for Jehan.”
“Then you take them back,” Edgar announced. “I have more scores to settle with him than you ever will. No, don’t use my hand as an excuse. I’ll have surprise on my side.”
“You mustn’t kill him that way,” Solomon told him. “Not lying in wait for him like a thief.”
“Why not?” Edgar asked. “He deserves no better.”
“Edgar”—Solomon put a hand on his shoulder—“I’m not thinking of Jehan. There’s no death too vile for me to pity him enduring it. But you can’t have that kind of revenge on your soul.”
“How can you lecture me on my soul?” Edgar was too amazed to be angry.
“Because I know it,” Solomon said. “If you killed him in secret, in the dark, it would haunt you forever. And Jehan would have won after all.”
“So, what do you propose?” Edgar asked, irritated at his accuracy. “Do you intend to kill him in order to save me the guilt? I won’t have it.”
“No.” Solomon gave a humorless laugh. “Jehan would have joy in Hell knowing that I, and perhaps other Jews of Paris, as well, had been hanged for his death. On consideration, I think all of us should wait here for him and take him alive to the authorities. His crimes should be known to everyone.”
“And what of his accusations against us?” Edgar said. “How do we keep him from denouncing the family as secret Jews?”
“Now that the Torah is no longer in your house, what can he prove?” Solomon said. “Let him rant. It will only increase the perception of his madness.”
Edgar had to admit that Solomon’s argument made sense. But how he ached to drive a knife deep into Jehan’s heart and know that it had stopped beating forever. Then it struck him that his father had never hesitated to kill an enemy. But instead of ridding himself of them, from the blood of each man had arisen a thousand more who hated him.
“If you insist; we’ll do it your way,” he said. “But remember, I’m only agreeing with you because you’re right.”
“I understand.” Solomon grinned.
 
Willa wasn’t working when Margaret and Martin arrived. Her husband was stamping down the wool in the trough in her place, but jerkily, as if his legs weren’t well attached to his body.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said when he saw them. “I wanted to send for your mother, Martin, but my master wouldn’t let me go until the work was done. The king’s leaving within the week, and we must finish supplying his men with the hats we promised.”
“Is Willa worse?” Margaret asked.
“She was too weak to stand this afternoon,” Belot said. “And she’s coughing blood. Lady Margaret, you shouldn’t get too close.”
“Nonsense,” Margaret said. “Martin, run back home. Ask Catherine to send a stretcher for Willa. She should be where she can be cared for. Belot, when you’ve finished, come see her at once. I know she’ll improve if she can have rest and the right medicine.”
Belot gave a wan smile. “I believe you, my lady.”
But when Margaret went in to sit with her friend, she wasn’t so hopeful. Willa was pale as death already, with a feverish flush on her cheeks the only spots of color. Margaret started to say something cheerful but the words froze on her tongue. She simply put her arms around Willa and cried.
“It’s all right, dear,” Willa told her between coughing spasms. “I’ve guessed for some time. But I didn’t want to upset Belot. It will be good to be rid of the pain.”
Margaret managed to control herself.
“Nonsense,” she said. “We’re taking you home, away from the noise and fluff in the air. We’ll let you lie on a bed like a grand lady with hundreds of servants. Then you’ll get well.”
Willa only smiled. Margaret took her hands.
“I’m selfish, Willa,” she whispered. “I’ve lost too many people I love. You can’t leave me, too.”
Willa coughed again, for several minutes, crying in between at the pain. When it finally subsided she lay back on her thin pillow.
“I’d like to die in a garden,” she said.
 
When Solomon and Edgar returned to the hut, Lambert and Clemence were both sitting on the bed. Lambert obviously knew that his father had died.
“I should have guessed when they described him,” he said. “But
they told me at the Temple that the man was wearing the garb of a knight. Why would my father have a white cloak?”
“Perhaps my father can explain it,” Clemence said.
“But that means we have no hope,” Lambert continued. “If Father can’t earn a place of honor among the brethren of the Temple, then how can we convince Lord Jordan to let us keep the castellany?”
“It seems my father has taken his place,” Clemence told him. “When we see him next, you must remember to call him ‘Father’ and not ‘my lord.’”
Lambert didn’t look capable of remembering that or much of anything else. Edgar decided to distract him with the matter at hand.
“We need your help,” he told the young man.
He explained to them both what they had to do.
“Solomon and I will be hiding just inside the door,” he assured them. “You can tell Jehan you were waiting for him or that you were just leaving because the wizard didn’t seem to be home. But you must think of something to get him to go inside. Can you?”
Lambert nodded. “The state he was in when I last saw him, he wouldn’t note a word I said.”
“What do we do now?” Clemence asked.
“We wait,” Solomon said. “Are you well enough? It shouldn’t be long.”
Clemence thought she could endure a bit longer. “But I would so like something to drink,” she sighed.
Lambert saw a pitcher on a shelf and started to pour a cup for her.
“I wouldn’t drink anything I found in this place,” Solomon said.
“I’ll go up to the tavern,” Lambert said. “It won’t take a minute.”
“No, there isn’t time.” Edgar said. “Jehan could come back any moment.”
“Clemence can’t wait,” Lambert said. He started out, then turned back.
“Umm, I forgot,” Lambert added. “I have no money.”
“If you must,” Solomon tossed him a couple of coins and he ran off at once.
“It might be well if he weren’t here,” Edgar commented when he had gone. “Clemence, we want you out of harm’s way. Can you curl up in the far corner of the bed, just as you might be if you were still tied?”
“I won’t put that gag on again,” she said. “You can’t imagine how vile it is.”
“I doubt he’ll be able to see you well enough,” Edgar said. “Sunlight never seems to enter this place.”
They all waited in silence, trying to think of something that might improve their chances of capturing Jehan alive without being slashed to ribbons themselves. Clemence wished she’d never mentioned how thirsty she was. What if these two men attacked Lambert by accident? What if Jehan found him first?
Solomon realized that the sound of the water running nearly under the hut would mask the sound of footsteps approaching. He wondered how long he could stand like this, poised to strike. His muscles were already aching.
It seemed forever before they were all jolted by the creak as the door was slowly pushed open.
“Agnes, my love,” Jehan said. “I’m—G
uai!
What—?”
Solomon and Edgar had caught him from either side, causing Jehan to drop his bundles. Solomon had drawn his knife, but in the dark didn’t dare slash out for fear of cutting Edgar. He tried to find Jehan’s neck from the direction of the sputtering and cursing.
“Thieves! Help!” Jehan roared. “Let go of me, you
gloton
!”
Edgar was trying to wrestle Jehan’s left hand behind his back and discovered that it was hard to do one-handed, even with his opponent befuddled by surprise and the darkness.
“Do you have him?” he shouted at Solomon.
“Is there a knife point in your gut?” Solomon answered.
“No!”
“Then I have him. Don’t move, you bastard,” Solomon told Jehan.
“You!” Jehan yelled, realizing who held him. “Infidel!
Mesel!
And you, filthy English coward! I should have known. Agnes! what did they do to you?”
He lunged toward the bed. Solomon felt the point of his knife bend on the rings of a mail shirt. The scrape as it ran down the metal set his teeth on edge. Unable to do more, he stuck out his leg as Jehan moved forward, and sent him tumbling onto the bed. Clemence screamed.
“Clemence!” Lambert was standing in the doorway. “I’ll save you!” He stepped in and smashed a full pitcher of beer down on the back of Jehan’s head.
The clay shattered and beer went flying. Jehan’s body slumped, half on the bed and half on the floor. Clemence quickly climbed over him and into Lambert’s arms. Edgar wiped the beer from his eyes and tried to see what had happened.
BOOK: To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
12.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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