Bone of Contention

by Roberta Gellis

  Snatching bites between words, William had finished the second slice of pasty and emptied the ale. Magdalene took the empty jack away and pushed another into its place.

  “And then,” William continued, “Dame Fortune touched me again and made Stephen ask about Niall: why, if he already had the lady in hand, had he killed St. Cyr? So I was able to say he had not and could not have and summon him forward to present the priest’s and servants’ statement’s.”

  “The king received them well? He had no doubts? No objections?”

  “The king received them with relief and joy…” William’s voice faded, and he looked hard at Magdalene. “Why was he so glad? And Waleran, too? I swear he was delighted that no shadow with regard to the killing should fall upon me.” His lips thinned. “You know what that means? That means fighting.” He sat silent for a moment and Magdalene put her hand over his. He looked down at their hands. “Well, it is no surprise! It will come when it comes. Meanwhile, your task is over. It no longer matters who stepped on the louse, St. Cyr.”

  “But it does, William,” Magdalene said. “The man who stabbed St. Cyr has killed again.”

  “Killed again? Who?

  “A rather worthless young man called Sir Jules of Osney. Sir Jules seems to have gone out to use the privy in The Broached Barrel just when the killer stuck the knife in St. Cyr’s back or a few minutes later. He claimed to have seen nothing, but Bell and I both had our doubts about the truth of that. We warned him to go home where he would be safe, but he did not, and he was found dead under a heap of straw in a pen in the stable yard with his head bashed in.”

  “But that has nothing to do with me! I never heard of Sir Jules of Osney.”

  Magdalene looked down at the table. “No, of course not. Niall was still at Noke the day Sir Jules was killed, and since Niall cannot have killed St. Cyr he cannot have had any reason to kill Sir Jules, nor could you have.”

  “As long as that is understood.”

  Magdalene nodded rather sadly. William did not care for simple justice or about stopping the murderer. His ends were satisfied and he wanted no further connection to the crime, not even that of solving it. Worse he might even tell her not to look further into St. Cyr’s and Sir Jules’s deaths. Magdalene sought a diversion.

  “What of Loveday’s petition?” she asked. “Did she get to present it to the king?”

  The frown that had been gathering on William’s brow dissipated and he began to laugh. “Yes she did. In fact I could not have stopped her if I wanted to. What she did was to come right up to the king in Niall’s shadow. She waited while he was presenting the evidence to clear himself, and then, the betrothal having been mentioned, simply stepped in front of him, weeping… Oh, just a little, and very prettily, and began to beg the king’s pardon for all the trouble she had caused.”

  Magdalene nodded. “That is what she said she would do. A most redoubtable girl.”

  William was still laughing and shaking his head. “She is a one, that one! I wish I could hire her to present cases for me. The king was wrapped and tied in half a candlemark. We all went together, Waleran included, so he could not say he meant her for another at some later time, into Stephen’s private closet so he could call a clerk, approve her appeal, and approve her marriage.” William laughed again. “I was sincerely glad she did not ask for the crown, he might have handed it to her.”

  “Thank God that is finished.” Magdalene sighed. “Is Niall recalled to duty?”

  “I am not so cruel,” William chortled. “I sent them both back to Noke to plan their wedding.” His grin widened. “Not that keeping him here would have benefited me in any way. Until he has her fast and has bedded her, I would not get any work out of him anyway.”

  He looked at the table, empty except for his cloak and tunic and Magdalene’s sewing basket, and blinked his eyes. “I seem to have eaten your dinner.”

  Now Magdalene laughed. “I am not so improvident. I ordered extra food because I thought Loveday might return here. And I think I have some sweetcakes to finish off the meal, if you would like them.”

  “With wine,” William said. “I drank that damned ale because it was by my hand, but no more, at least not with sweetcakes.”

  Magdalene went to fetch the cakes and wine, and when she had put them on the table said, “I hope you destroyed that betrothal agreement. It was false, of course, but if it came into the hands of someone who wished ill to Niall or Loveday it could be used to make trouble. Do you have any idea why Count Alain and Lord Hervey should have signed it?”

  “They did not do so. I knew the hand was not Count Alain’s. I have seen his signature elsewhere.” William made a face, and Magdalene thought he must have witnessed that signature on some recent grant. “I thought a long time before I decided what to do, but finally I cut out Loveday’s name and all that pertained to her estate and brought the parchment to Count Alain.” He showed his teeth in what was not a smile. “It was a pleasure to see the look on his face, but he told me it was not Hervey’s signature either.” He sighed. “I had sort of hoped that Hervey had forged Alain’s signature. Still, he will be looking cross-eyed at his Household, wondering who took his name in vain.”

  Magdalene could have told him that, but she said nothing. If Count Alain had not signed the forged betrothal, he would never have told Ferrau to retrieve it from Niall. In fact, he would not have known the document existed. So it must have been Ferrau himself who had the forgery made. Of course. He would not ask Count Alain to sign the betrothal of a common man-at-arms to a yeoman’s daughter. She wondered whom he had got to sign such august names.

  So that was why St. Cyr was killed! No, that couldn’t be the cause. If Ferrau intended to kill St. Cyr over the betrothal, he would have killed him before the document was prepared. And if Count Alain knew nothing about the forged document, that eliminated the only other cause Ferrau had to be rid of St. Cyr—that Count Alain would dismiss him for associating with the creature.

  Hardly realizing what she was doing, she leaned forward to refill William’s cup of wine, and was somewhat surprised to be seized and pulled from her seat into his lap and into a rather passionate kiss. William hardly ever kissed when having sex.

  “Will you put a cap of pleasure on this singularly pleasant day?” he asked, when he released her lips. “The rain is stopping, but I will not be wanted until after Nones.” He chuckled. “And I am half undressed already.”

  “Very gladly,” Magdalene agreed, although a slight pall of anxiety passed over her like a chill.

  She had told Diccon to tell Bell she did not expect him to come, but he might do so. No matter. Florete would tell him that William was with her and Bell would go away. He would be angry. Then he was a fool!

  Magdalene held out her hand and smiled. This was the second time William had asked if she would serve him. Usually he simply grabbed at her. He was pleased and relaxed. She had spoiled her own pleasure the last time they had coupled and was determined not to do it again. William was aware that the satisfaction she simulated was false coin and usually did not care, but he had been different since she had arrived in Oxford. If she possibly could, this time she would repay him in true gold.

  Chapter 18

  24 June,

  The Soft Nest

  Magdalene looked down at the heavy gold ring in her hand. It was worth a month’s earnings from the Old Priory Guesthouse, but she still rather wished William had not given it to her. It had been very good between them, a warm comfort that built slowly into passion and fulfillment. And they had been able to rest quietly in each other’s arms until the languor of love had passed. Even then, when he said he had to go, he had not offered an extra purse, but said only, “You are good to me and for me, Chick.”

  Perhaps it was her own fault. She had trod amiss after he was dressed and just ready to leave the room, blinking less than usual and smiling back at her. She had run after him and caught at him. His eyes had widened and his face was soft and surprised
. Magdalene bit her lip. How could she have been so stupid? She now realized he had been expecting her to ask him to stay or to say…she loved him. Which she did! But she had not said it.

  She had said, “Good Lord, I almost forgot. Niall told you about the hiding place in Waleran’s attic, I am sure. I’ve sent for Raoul de Samur. Shall I tell him? Do you trust him enough to carry honestly what he hears to you?”

  William had become instantly tense and alert, all softness gone from his expression, but not all pleasure. “Samur!” he exclaimed, grinning broadly. “Bless you, Chick! God in heaven, my wits have gone to seed. I had forgotten all about Samur. Yes, yes indeed, tell him. He is just the man for dirty work like that. As to bringing me the news honestly, I do not believe he knows what honest is. You know, he seems actually to take pleasure in telling me what he learns in Waleran’s Household. I pay him well, of course, and praise him…”

  “He admires you, William,” Magdalene said, smiling.

  “Admires me?”

  Magdalene went up on tiptoe to kiss William of Ypres’s nose. “Yes, he does, I have heard it in the way he speaks about you. But even so, you had better consider carefully anything he tells you. The man is a snake. He might take a perverted pleasure in bringing down someone he admires.”

  “Teaching your grandfather to suck eggs again?” he asked grinning. Then, acknowledging her warning, he said, “You wiggle a bit snakelike yourself, both mind and body,” and pulled off the ring and pressed it into her hand.

  Magdalene sighed. Yes, it had been her own fault, but she had not hurt William. He had been doubly assured of her care and loyalty. It was only she, herself, who was hurt by being reminded that William thought her loyalty could only be bought or reinforced with gold. Then she tossed the ring up and down in her hand and grinned. She would be loyal to William if he never paid her another penny, but it was just as well he didn’t know that—and much more profitable.

  She had barely had time to put the ring away before the door was scratched. She hurried away from the chest—there was no need for Florete or any other whore to know she had just put a treasure away—and when she reached the table called, “Come.”

  Raoul de Samur stuck his head around the door, stepped in, and shut it tight. “Why the devil did you send for me when Lord William was here? I barely had time to grab one of the common girls to pretend… What if word gets back?”

  “He was not here when I sent for you. And unless you opened your mouth, no one should know you were coming here. The girl was told to name another whorehouse, if she had to give a name. As for Lord William, he came to give me news of two friends, Niall Arvagh and Mistress Loveday, to tell me they are, as we all hoped, to be married and have gone out of Oxford to Noke. Nothing to do with you.”

  “Then why did you send for me?”

  “I have learned a secret that might be very profitable to you. You remember Aimery St. Cyr?”

  “Of course I remember him,” Samur growled, grimacing. “The lout was in my troop, and more trouble than he was worth, I assure you.”

  “St. Cyr found a place in the attic of Lord Waleran’s lodging above the solar where one can hear clearly whatever is said below.”

  Samur stood staring at her. “And was killed for it?”

  Magdalene did not answer, remembering that she had wondered whether Waleran had found out about St. Cyr and ordered his death.

  After a moment Samur shook his head. “No. I swear no order was given to remove St. Cyr. I do not believe Lord Waleran knew he existed.” His eyes narrowed. “And there have been no workmen around the lodging. I cannot imagine that Lord Waleran would leave open such a crack in his privacy.”

  “Neither can I. Which means Lord Waleran is still unaware that there is a place in which his private councils can be overheard. If you can find the place and listen—” Magdalene reached out and gently touched the gold ring that Raoul de Samur had hinted he had bought with what William had paid him for information “—it might be very profitable.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Are you planning to betray me? Or do you want a share of what Lord William will give me?”

  Magdalene laughed. “A share would not be amiss, but that is the least of my reasons. When Lord William is satisfied and happy, it is greatly to my profit. When he is harried—” she shrugged and mentally apologized to William who had never taken out his ill humors on her, except for a bellow or two “—I suffer for it. The more he knows, the more he prospers, the more do I.”

  Samur nodded curtly. “Mayhap I will. Mayhap I will not use this information. It may be too dangerous.”

  “Do what you think best,” Magdalene said shortly, stepping around Samur and opening the door.

  She had not liked the speculative look in his eyes, as if he might ask her to convince him with her body to serve William. Likely enough he did not expect her to agree, he merely wanted to be able to tell William that she did not think his safety and profit worth ten minutes on her back. He opened his mouth, she suspected to ask anyway, and she thought nastily that two could play his game. She smiled sweetly at him but kept her voice very low.

  “I asked Lord William’s permission to tell you,” she said, “and he approved.”

  “Bitch,” Raoul remarked, but there was little heat in the word. “You’re as clever as they say.”

  She kept her sweet smile, trying to look idiotic. “It is a wise man who thinks so, anyway.”

  Samur lifted a lip at her and then went out the door. Magdalene could see that the rain was coming down again, although not with the rush that had soaked William when he came in. But he must be safe back in the castle by now.

  The corridor was quiet and Florete smiled invitingly, but Magdalene was aware of being in her bedgown and, mindful of the trouble she had caused by being caught in that attire previously, she retreated to her chamber. She stood for a while listening to the rain and hoping that William had not gotten wet again. Then she chuckled at her fond foolishness: if he did, there would be a bevy of servants to take away the wet clothing and supply dry.

  She considered changing into a gown, but dismissed the thought. She would not be going out in the rain, and in any case it must be well after Nones now, possibly near Vespers. Vespers. Surely the king was no longer holding Court. And then she wondered where Diccon was and whether he had ever found Bell.

  That question answered itself before she had set another row of stitches in Ella’s ribbon when Bell simply opened the door and walked in. She did not bother to protest. Florete had seen her go back into the room alone and would have told him it was safe. He was wet but not soaked, and he dropped a blanket, smelling strongly of horse, that had shielded him half on a stool where it slipped to the floor.

  “You went to the stable where Jules was killed?” she asked.

  “That was what you wanted me to do, was it not?” He came and lifted her face and kissed her.

  “Did you discover anything?”

  “Some things, but not who killed him, I am sorry to say.” He pulled the stool William had been sitting on closer and dropped down on it, stretching his long legs. “And I do not like what I learned. Ormerod was behaving as if he had lost his father and his only brother in one blow. His grief and desire for revenge seem a bit overblown to me. Do you realize that he stood to profit substantially from St. Cyr’s death and does profit enormously from Sir Jules’s?”

  “Yes. Once St. Cyr was dead, Ormerod believed Jules would get Loveday. Then Jules could have repaid his debt to Ormerod and given the promised farm to his sister.” She hesitated and then went on slowly, “And with Jules dead, the sister gets everything and Jules could not continue to destroy the property.”

  “Yes.” Bell did not sound happy.

  “But I could swear he was not that kind of man,” Magdalene protested weakly, then sighed. “Of course, he did not come frequently to the Old Priory Guesthouse and I do not think I have seen him since his father died. Mostly I remember him as an awkward, blushing
boy. He could have changed, grown more grasping.”

  Bell sighed. “I would have said the same as you. On the other hand, I did not know him before his father died. It was afterward that there was trouble about the farm his father had bought and he came to the bishop for help. I was surprised by his insistence that the price was fully paid. The sum in question was not large.” He rubbed his arms. “Of course he may simply have objected to being thought a fool and easily cheated.”

  “Why don’t you take off those wet clothes?” Magdalene suggested, although she suspected it was more his distaste for suspecting Ormerod than the dampness that had chilled him.

  He nodded, removed his swordbelt and propped it where he could reach the weapon easily, and she rose to help him with ties and laces. When he was rid of his tunic, she laid it on the other bed carefully so it would not wrinkle as it dried, then found places for the rest of his clothing. Finally she handed him the blanket that William had cast away when he caught her to him.

  “Had other company, have you?” he asked, but he was smiling.

  Magdalene ignored the question. “Did you see the body? How did Sir Jules die?”

  “Quickly. I doubt he felt more than the single blow that felled him, and drunk as he was, I suspect he did not even feel that.” Bell’s lips thinned. “But whoever hit him was a vicious man, or had come to hate him. He continued to strike him until…well, long after he was dead.”

  “How did he dare—out in an open pen? And the stable is a busy place.”

  “Mostly in the early morning when people come into the city to do business and in the late afternoon, near Vespers, when people ride home again. During the day there are far fewer customers. I was quite alone when I spoke to the stableman. I could have killed him easily, with no one the wiser, by just walking him farther back where it is dark.