Moreover, Florete confirmed everything that Diccon had told Magdalene. “What will happen?” she asked anxiously. “I have good arrangements with the sheriff’s men in Oxford and with the bishop’s people too. Is everything going to be changed? Will I have to pay double bribes?”
“I don’t know,” Magdalene confessed. “I only know that William is worried, which is why he sent for me. My bishop is safe—he is the king’s brother and the papal legate, too.” She sighed. “All I can say is that if too much trouble overtakes you, come to me in Southwark. There is room for a house like this one—not so pricey as mine, but decent and well managed.”
“Thank you, love,” Florete said, getting up. “I hope it never comes to that, but I will remember.”
* * * *
The afternoon shadows were long now and clients who wanted to be finished before Vespers were coming in. After dusk there would be another busy time, as those men who planned to stay the night arrived. Florete returned to her post at the entrance, and Magdalene went about placing torchettes in the holders on the wall. She took one of the night candles from the stick near the bed on the right-hand wall and set it on the table, reminding herself to ask Florete for a branch of candle holders when there were fewer men around. She would need the light if she bought embroidery materials the next morning. For now she sighed with boredom and wished that William had gotten her message and would be able to come.
That wish was granted. The bells of St. Friedesweide were just ringing for Vespers when William of Ypres came striding into the Soft Nest, never stopping at Florete’s table, and bellowing, “Heyla Chickie, where are you?”
Florete signaled urgently to her men to sit still as six men in helmets and boiled leather armor followed their master through the door, but she sighed with relief when Magdalene flung open the door to the back room and ran forward into William’s bearlike embrace.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, peering cautiously into her chamber, then pushing her back into the room and slamming the door behind him with his heel.
“I’m so glad you approve,” she replied, voice laced with irony, “since I haven’t the faintest idea where else to go.”
He gave her a rib-bending, affectionate hug that squeezed the breath out of her, then put her away from him to smile down at her. “I was worried about where you would find a place,” he said in a more moderate tone. “I even thought of emptying out that house you used to rent, but the way things are, I couldn’t have done it quietly. There would have been howls of protest. It would have become known that I took the house, and I’m not sure everyone would have believed that I would go to so much effort only for a favorite whore.”
“Then God must favor you, because it was sheer luck that Florete was afraid to rent this room to anyone. She thought she would end up with a troop of men-at-arms in there who would make merry with her whores and pay nothing.”
He laughed. “Likely she was right.” But then his smile disappeared, and she noticed the gray in his hair, the new lines on his face, the gray tone under the weather-beaten brown of his skin, and how he blinked his eyes, as if to clear them.
“You look tired, love,” she said. “Come, sit down.” And she led the way to the chair. “Shall I send the boy out to get some wine and food? I have had no chance yet to buy in stores.”
He sank into the chair, put his elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands. “Don’t bother. I have another meeting for the evening meal.” He sighed. “My spirit is tired, Magdalene, not my body. God knows, I’ve done little enough but stand around in the Court making stupid noises.”
“Is there something I need to know to mind my tongue, William?” she asked anxiously.
He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t even know if there is something I need to know,” he growled.
“Will this help?” she asked, and repeated what Diccon had told her about the wagering between Waleran’s men and Surrey’s.
“In the common room of a whorehouse,” William said softly, lifting his head. “I knew what they were saying, of course. Waleran has been whispering his warnings in the king’s ear since we all arrived and the king was kind enough—” his lips twisted “—to pass those warnings to me, since doubtless I would be the one who would have to winkle the bishops out of their castles. But I am a little surprised that the suspicions were common knowledge in the town and among the common men-at-arms. So his men are deliberately spreading the doubts to all. But why?”
Magdalene ignored a question she knew was not for her, but she shivered. “William, what will happen to the realm if Salisbury and his son and nephews are turned out of office?”
There was a silence and then William said softly, “Why do you think I cannot sleep at night? I don’t know, Chick, I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Except that there will be war and I will do what is necessary to save the king’s groats.”
“Stephen is a fool!”
“Yes. Sometimes.”
Magdalene sighed. “Will this place be safe for you, William, if Waleran’s men and those of his blood kin come here?”
He laughed and put out an arm to pull her close, ignoring the fact that the arm of the chair was cutting painfully into her thighs. “Sweet Chick. I think sometimes you really do care about me.”
She dropped a kiss on the top of his head and blinked back tears. His hair was not only graying but thinning too. “Well, I do,” she said, making her voice light, “even though you don’t know your own strength and you will break my legs and cripple me if you don’t let me go.” He released her, but swatted her sharply on the buttocks, and she sighed. “Answer me, William. Will you be safe coming here? I will find another place if it will be better for you.”
“No!” He grinned up at her. “And of course I will be safe, you silly woman. Waleran wouldn’t harm a hair on my head, especially when there is fighting coming along. Do you think he wants to risk his precious hide on the field? As long as I am alive and well, the king will send me.”
“A fool, but he knows whom he can trust.”
“In war…” Now William sighed, but then he smiled and gestured for Magdalene to sit down on one of the stools.
“Maybe you spoke aright when you said God favored us. That this place is a known haunt of Waleran’s men is perfect. You remember Raoul de Samur?” Magdalene wrinkled her nose and William laughed once more and went on, “Yes, yes, he is no prize, but he has been of use to me. A place where it is known his fellows all come will make him feel safe. He will be willing to bring news to you of Waleran’s meetings and doings more often and even speak to me in your chamber directly—in which case I am sure I will be able to squeeze from him even more than he thinks he knows.”
“I suppose so.” Magdalene grimaced. “But he is not likely to look on me with favor. I threw wash water in his face, Sabina crowned him with her staff, and Dulcie finished him off with her frying pan.”
William roared with laughter. “Is that how you subdued him? Poor man. I am glad we are on such good terms.” Then he shrugged. “He will not dare touch you or even misspeak you. He knows how I value you.”
I will have to warn Bell, Magdalene thought. Raoul will not know that William’s protection covers Bell—if it does. William had never shown the slightest sign of sexual jealousy over her, but he seemed to realize that Bell was more than just another body in her bed. Would he doubt her loyalty when he learned that Bell was also in Oxford, or would that arouse his sense of possession?
Unaware of her thoughts, William continued, “And that was interesting news you gave me about the betting. Can you arrange to hear more of what the men who come here say?”
“I think so. It was the boy who carries messages and fetches food and wine for the women and the clients who told me. He’s clever, and I gave him reason to like me…” William raised his brows and she laughed. “No, you evil-minded man. The boy is barely twelve years old. I gave him two farthings and a meal. He will be glad to l
isten for me and bring me what he hears.”
“I do not believe I was much above twelve when I had my first woman,” William mused, grinning. “Ah, well. I imagine I was a likelier lad than any half-starved whore’s brat. At least while you are here he will be better fed. You do tend to take in the lame and the lost.”
“And find good use for them,” Magdalene said sharply, then suddenly cocked her head. “Which reminds me, William, could I ask your men to keep their eyes open for a pretty blind girl? I am looking to replace Sabina.”
“I thought you had, with that green-eyed slut.”
Magdalene laughed. “Why is Diot more of a slut than I?”
William stared at her, blinking his eyes to clear his vision. After a moment he said, “You did what you must…as I at times do what I must. Diot does what she likes.”
Magdalene stared back at him. “You are very perceptive, William,” she whispered.
“Which is why I am still alive.”
He looked away, staring into nothing for a long moment, then pushed back the chair and began to rise. Magdalene rose also, her hand going to the tie of her shift, which showed above the neck of her gown.
“It is not only ‘must’ with you, William,” she said.
He looked down at her and drew her to him, gently for once. “I wish I could,” he said, resting his cheek against her hair, “but I am pledged to share the evening meal with Lord Hervey at Alain of Brittany’s lodging. Curse the man, he looks down his nose at all of us as if we were bugs to be trod underfoot. And Stephen usually has little patience with such airs. I cannot think why I am sent to dance attendance on him.”
That comment was not meant for her either. Magdalene only said, “Let me change into a bedgown, William. There is no reason to let Florete or anyone else wonder what we have been doing.”
He nodded and released her and went on irritably as she swiftly removed her clothing and replaced it with a tucked and embroidered linen bedgown, “This Hervey is not even a decent Norman. He is all French from his overcurled hair to his long-toed shoes.”
The continuation of subject implied that William did want an answer from her. “Then he must be connected to King Louis’s court and Stephen wants something from the French king.”
“I know that!” William snorted.
“A wife for Eustace?” Magdalene ventured.
William groaned. “Another reason for the king to show himself strong and in total control of his realm.” He shook his head. “The boy may ripen into something—” he sighed “—but I see no sign of it.” He went to the door and opened it. “You are always a pleasure, Magdalene,” he said as she followed him out. “I will be back as soon as I can find the time.”
Hearing his voice, his six armed men came out of the common room, where they had been teasing the whores. They stepped out the door and William paused by Florete’s table. Magdalene tightened the tie on his shirt as if she had not done it up properly. He flicked a finger against her nose.
“Be good, Chick.”
He turned away just as a big man, with a badly bruised face, a black eye, a swollen nose, and split lips, pushed past Florete’s table and almost collided with Magdalene. What more could be seen of him was stringy, somewhat matted black hair, a dark eye—the blackened one was swollen shut—and unshaven stubble on his cheeks and chin.
“A penny for the likes of them?” he lisped over his shoulder as if his teeth were loose. “Common whores they are, no better than I could buy for a farthing.”
Florete stiffened a bit, and Magdalene gave back a step and then tried to sidle around the complainer to follow William to the front door, but the man sensed the movement and seized her arm.
“Well, where’ve you been hiding this one?” In addition to the indistinctness caused by the loose teeth, the big man’s voice was thick with drink, and spittle spotted his broken mouth. “Here’s one to make up for the whey-faced sack of wet mud I’ll be wedding tomorrow.”
“Let me go,” Magdalene said coldly. “I do not work in this house.”
“In a bedgown in this house, you work here,” the man snarled. “My money’s as good as his—” he gestured with his head toward William, who was just stepping out the door.
“You are hurting me!” Magdalene exclaimed, her voice rising. “Let me go!”
“Sir!” Florete half rose from her seat. “Let her go! She speaks the truth. She does not work here. She is a visitor on business.”
While she was speaking, another man came around her table. He said, “Aimery, this is a decent house. If the woman is not willing…” His voice trailed away, denoting some discomfort about Magdalene, at whom he was staring.
She had been struggling to draw her eating knife, but hesitated with her hand clasped around the hilt, twisting her head toward the new speaker. His voice sounded familiar. She would prefer to have her attacker’s friends take him away than to stab a man in Florete’s house.
“Sir Ferrau,” she cried, recognizing the second man. “Tell this creature to unhand me.”
His eyes fixed on hers, and recognition dawned on his face. Doubt dawned also. Magdalene could see Sir Ferrau trying to decide how to react to the plea of a woman to whom he had been introduced by a respectable knight but whom he discovered in a whorehouse. While he hesitated, a large hand fell on the shoulder of the man called Aimery.
“Let her go. Now!”
The bellow could have wakened the dead. Several of the curtains in the corridor twitched half open. Sir Ferrau gaped and his eyes widened.
“Aimery,” he cried, rushing over and trying to loosen the drunkard’s grip on Magdalene. “For God’s sake, let the woman go. That is William of Ypres.”
“And Waleran de Meulan is my master,” Aimery growled, drunk and sullen. “I don’t need to fear Ypres.”
At that moment Magdalene’s eating knife came free of its sheath and struck down at the hand gripping her. It was not a large knife, but it was pointed and very sharp for cleaning and paring fruit, and it went right through the man’s hand. Furious, Magdalene twisted it as she drew it back. Aimery’s half-uttered shriek was cut off as, almost simultaneously with Magdalene’s blow, William’s hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed.
“Don’t, William,” Magdalene gasped, seizing his arm. “He isn’t worth a quarrel with Lord Waleran.”
William looked into her troubled face, and his hands slowly relaxed their grip.
Two heartbeats later Sir Ferrau pleaded, “I beg you my lord, don’t kill him. He is drunk.”
As soon as William had ordered Aimery to let go of Magdalene, Florete’s bully boys had started to rise from their stools and reach for their cudgels, but they had not been able to decide how to accost their prey without interfering with William of Ypres or Magdalene. Now when William released the semiconscious man, they leapt forward, seized him, and dragged him out the door. Sir Ferrau did not follow, but only stepped back out of Lord William’s sight.
“You all right, Chick?” William asked roughly.
“Oh, yes,” Magdalene said, looking up at him from cleaning her knife, “I’ll have a bruise…” She grinned. “But your affection sometimes gives me worse. Go ahead, William. You’ll be late.”
His lips twisted. “That would never do.” But he did go out, his step quickening as his men formed around him.
Sir Ferrau came forward as William disappeared. “What a beautiful woman you are,” he said. “You were veiled when I met you on the road with Sir Bellamy, and I had no idea…”
“What in the world are you doing here with that…animal?” Magdalene asked.
Ferrau laughed deprecatingly. “I wasn’t with him. I met him in the street outside of St. Friedesweide and he asked me where I was going. Like a fool, I told him. I didn’t realize how drunk he was when he said he would come along with me. But if we are asking questions, I would like to know how you came to be traveling with Sir Bellamy?”
Magdalene smiled sweetly at him. “Exactly for the reason h
e told you. I keep the Old Priory Guesthouse in Southwark and the bishop of Winchester is my landlord. Sir Bellamy collects the rents—some of the stews make trouble, although not my establishment—and the bishop believes in stopping trouble before it starts, Sir Bellamy is good at that. In any case when I told him I needed to travel to Oxford, he said he was himself going there and offered to escort me.”
“You know him well?”
She shrugged. “He has been collecting my rent for some years, and I pay in silver…every penny. Sometimes we exchange a few light words. The prices of the Old Priory Guesthouse are too high for a simple knight.”
“You mean they are too high for me also?”
“I have no price for any man but William of Ypres,” she said flatly.
Every word she had spoken was the literal truth, too. Bell didn’t pay her at all.
Chapter 5
20 June,
Cornmarket, Oxford
Magdalene retreated to her room again, vowing not to come out into the public areas of the house other than fully dressed. She hoped she had not made any trouble for Florete, but was relieved of that worry when the whoremistress later came in for a cozy snack, which Diccon fetched, and to apologize for the fracas.
“It is I who should apologize,” Magdalene said. “I hope that drunken fool will make no outcry against your house.”
“Oh, no.” Florete sipped her wine and nibbled placidly at a sweetcake. “The boys will have taken him up to the Carfax and dumped him behind some wagon or crate. Likely he won’t even remember what happened and will think he came drunk out of one of the alehouses and just fell down. If he does remember, he will hold his tongue. The Soft Nest is well liked. He’ll not want to say he was thrown out.”
They talked a little longer and then Florete was called forward to settle a contest between two men over a girl. They were both drunk, too, but good humored about it, and Florete was skilled at soothing them and finding another woman “like,” she said, “as two peas in a pod,” to the one over whom they were quarreling, and then setting them to match straws for the girls. As soon as Magdalene was sure the altercation would not erupt into a riot, she wrapped up the remaining sweetcakes, covered what was left in the flagon of wine, locked her door, and went to bed.
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