Roberta Gellis

by A Personal Devil

  It was nearly sunset when he arrived at the justiciar’s large and elegant house, so he was not surprised to find him at home.

  “You are zealous, Sir Bellamy,” Master Octadenarius said. “My lord of Winchester is well served.”

  As he spoke, he waved Bell across the large common room to which the servant had admitted him through a doorway and into a private chamber. He preceded Bell to a short, highly polished table and indicated a handsome stool, himself moving around the table to sit down in a large, imposing chair with arms as well as a back. While Bell settled, by habit immediately arranging his sword so that it did not pull his belt and would draw freely from the scabbard, he was aware of Octadenarius’s shrewd black eyes rapidly assessing him.

  “Not today,” Bell said, smiling. “I confess I have been hard at work, but not on the bishop’s business. Well, I did straighten out a small matter of some bolts of cloth that had not been delivered, but most of my business today was interfering with your affairs, my lord Justiciar.”

  “What?”

  “You know that the Church, in particular the diocese of Winchester, owns the property adjoining the priory of St. Mary Overy called the Old Priory Guesthouse?”

  “I do,” Octadenarius said, not quite so cordially.

  Aha! Bell thought, he is or has been a client there; however, nothing showed on the experienced soldier’s face. “Through collecting rents and suchlike,” he continued blandly, “I have become well acquainted with the whoremistress, Magdalene la Bâtarde.”

  “Was not she involved with the murder of a papal messenger only a few weeks ago?”

  “Yes, she helped prevent the murderer from stabbing the bishop, and I was forced to kill the man. It would not have come under your hand anyway, because Guiscard was a clerk in minor orders. The church would have dealt with him. As to Magdalene, despite her profession, she is a decent woman and treats her whores well. When one wished to leave her, she did not interfere, and soon after the murder was solved, the blind whore from her house was taken into keeping by a master saddler, Mainard—”

  “Whose wife was found dead in his backyard. Yes. What is this to do with you?”

  “Sabina, the whore, is deeply attached to Master Mainard, who has been most indulgent to her. She came and begged Magdalene to save Mainard from being accused of killing his wife, who, I must admit, richly deserved killing.”

  “The whore said Master Mainard was with her every moment from noon, when they went to a christening party, until they were wakened by the apprentice’s finding the body.”

  “Yes, and that is likely true.”

  Bell was shocked as the words came out of his mouth. He had not, until that moment, been sure whether he would tell Octadenarius that the saddler’s whereabouts during the party were by no means certain. It seemed he had decided without real thought. Well, he had heard enough over the day to be sure that if Mainard had killed his wife, he was not likely to commit another crime.

  Bell sighed. If he found real proof of Mainard’s guilt, he told himself, he would have to reconsider, but for now there was no sense in casting a shadow over Sabina’s lover. If Octadenarius thought he had the killer in hand, he would look no farther, and Bell could use his help. He had spoken right by instinct, Bell decided. He would keep his own counsel about Newelyne’s party.

  “But—” Octadenarius prodded, having noted the sigh.

  “But Sabina,” Bell continued, “was terrified that you would discount her word because she had been a whore. And she knows what her word would be worth in a court of law if Master Mainard were tried for the crime.”

  “So?”

  “So Sabina went weeping to Magdalene, and Magdalene, knowing I was in London on the bishop’s business, sent for me, and I…ah…cannot resist Magdalene, so I went to see what I could see. And I discovered that Mistress Bertrild was not killed in the backyard of Master Mainard’s shop or anywhere near the shop.”

  The laughter that had crinkled Master Octadenarius’s eyes, although his lips did not twitch, when Bell said that he could not resist Magdalene, promptly disappeared and was replaced by shock. “What?”

  “Because none of us could understand what she was doing there in the middle of the night, I carefully examined the entire yard and—”

  “She was not killed in the middle of the night,” Octadenarius interrupted rather sharply. “Brother Samuel at St. Catherine’s Hospital told me he believed she was dead before Vespers, possibly not long after Nones.”

  “That is true, my lord Justiciar, he told me the same thing. Can you really believe that the body lay in the middle of the yard from before Vespers until dawn the next day without anyone noticing it?”

  “No, of course not. I assumed she was killed in the shop, hidden, and then put in the yard at night.”

  “Killed in front of Codi and the apprentices? By whom? Hidden where?”

  “I believe she was killed by the journeyman—she was heard to threaten him earlier that day—and the apprentices were terrified into silence—”

  Bell began to laugh. “Did those boys look terrified of Codi? Of Master Mainard?”

  Master Octadenarius scowled horribly. He was a busy man. The murder of one unpleasant woman of no particular stature or reputation in the community was not a very important matter, and the solution of the crime had seemed obvious. He had intended to send a man to gather a few more facts and then to arrest Codi.

  Now that he had been forced to rethink his quick conclusion that Codi was guilty, he had a vivid image of the two boys clinging to the big journeyman; he heard again the reassuring voice in which Codi had urged them to tell everything they knew. He knew he did not really believe they were afraid. They sported no bruises; they were well fed, well clothed. There had been no shadow on either boy’s face when asked about Codi or his master. He sighed gustily.

  “As I remember from the time I worked with you to settle the bishop’s problem, you are not wont, to look for an easy path, Sir Bellamy. So what have you to tell me?”

  It was such a sufficiently long and interesting tale that the justiciar invited Bell to take the evening meal with him. And when both were replete and toying with cups of wine, Octadenarius said, “So she was killed in her own house and moved to the shop. In God’s name, why?”

  Bell shrugged. “Hate for Master Mainard? Although, to speak the truth, I have not found a single person who will say a word against him—except that he should have beaten his wife and did not. Possibly only self-protection, to make it seem Mainard or Codi was guilty, in case he had been seen entering or leaving the Lime Street house. Certainly, to find her by Mainard’s shop would muddy the waters for you.”

  “And he made me look a fool for not examining the place more carefully.” Octadenarius’s mouth was set in a grim line. “So are you about to leave the matter with me now?”

  “If you so order, my lord Justiciar, I must obey, but I beg you will not. Magdalene would be furious with me, and, if the criminal is one of the men who was in Master Mainard’s workshop, she must know him because the Bridge Guild often meets in her house. It is convenient, and what they say to each other will be carried no farther. Many find her house useful and comfortable for private meetings. The fee is the same as at any good inn and the security much greater.”

  Octadenarius nodded. “I am aware. But her mouth is sealed shut, that woman. I have tried to get information from her in the past, and she would tell me nothing. And I had the feeling that if I persisted I would have William of Ypres paying me an unwelcome visit.”

  A muscle in Bell’s jaw jumped, and he saw that Octadenarius had noted it. “Yes,” he said, trying to keep his voice indifferent. “Since Lord William commonly uses the Old Priory Guesthouse as a meeting place with people who would rather not be caught consorting with him, he values Magdalene’s unwillingness to talk about her clients—except when he cannot get information either. But that is trade or politics, honest or dishonest, not murder. And do not forget that this time sh
e is protecting one of her own. She is fierce as a lioness in defense of her women. She will talk about those five men—at least to me.”

  Again the crinkles around the justiciar’s eyes indicated amusement, but he did not smile and only asked blandly, “So do you wish me to leave this matter in your hands?”

  “I would like best if I could continue to examine the crime under your authority as Justiciar, Master Octadenarius. The bishop has nothing to do with this, and if I may not act as his hand, I am only a poor, simple knight and no one need answer me or obey me. Also, I am a little short of men, as I came with only four.”

  At that the justiciar laughed aloud. “I see. I am to furnish men and power and you—”

  “Privileged information and, I hope, a murderer,” Bell said, grinning. “What I need most now, to speak the truth, is men who know the East Chepe and Lime Street to question the neighbors about anything they saw or heard on Saturday afternoon. We know when the messenger from Bertrild’s uncle arrived, but not when he departed and if it can be discovered where he went. Also we must learn whether anyone besides the messenger came to the house, whether Mistress Bertrild went out and returned with someone, whether there was any activity noted in her garden or the alley near the back of her house not only that afternoon but also after dark.”

  “I cannot complain. Those are sensible inquiries. Very well, I will send out some of my people tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, my lord Justiciar. In turn, I will discover what, if anything, Magdalene has learned, and I will attend the burying of Mistress Bertrild.”

  “You will report to me anything you discover?”

  “Yes, Master Octadenarius. However, there are several cases in which the bishop has an interest that are to be presented tomorrow afternoon, and for me, the bishop’s business must come first, of course. Between that and Mistress Bertrild’s burying in the morning, I will have little chance tomorrow to discover what Magdalene knows.” That was not strictly true; in fact Bell intended to visit Magdalene while her women were all busy and they could talk alone. But that was none of Octadenarius’s affair, and Bell continued without any hesitation. “I should be able to catch her on Tuesday morning, before any clients arrive, so I will likely come about this time on Tuesday to tell you what I have learned.”

  The justiciar bowed his head in acknowledgment, and Bell set down his empty winecup and rose.

  “It is full dark,” Octadenarius said. “Will you be safe riding…ah…wherever you are riding?”

  Bell patted his sword. “Quite safe,” he said, but he was glad when a servant appeared very promptly in response to Octadenarius’s bellow, and he left the house with no more than a farewell bow and a half-lifted hand.

  He was in no mood to respond to the justiciar’s mild teasing or to satisfy his curiosity. In fact, he did not know when he mounted his hired horse where he was going. The temptation to cross the bridge and stop at the Old Priory Guesthouse was very strong; however, Sabina was there, which meant there would be no empty chamber for him. A good excuse to pay for a place in Magdalene’s bed? Heat flooded his loins and his instant response made him shift backward in the saddle. The horse jibbed and he relaxed the rein he had unconsciously tightened.

  No! He would not be pulled to her house by his rod. Bell tapped the horse’s sides with his heels, and when he did pass Magdalene’s gate, pushed the beast into a trot. It would be stupid to stop there. At the bishop’s house he would find servants to care for the horse and to return it to the livery stable in the morning. At Magdalene’s he would have to feed and unsaddle the beast himself. Moreover, he would have to go back to the bishop’s house anyway. His clothing was there, and he would need a decent dark gown or at least a more sober tunic for a burying. And finally, he thought as he turned the corner to the road to the bishop’s house, if she had another client, Magdalene might refuse him.

  * * * *

  22 MAY

  OLD PRIORY GUESTHOUSE

  By late Monday afternoon, after the bishop’s business was finished, Bell’s doubts were gone—not about the wisdom of buying Magdalene’s favors; free of the sudden rush of desire, he knew he was not ready to capitulate to her demand he take her only as a whore. Restored to common sense, however, he accepted the need to see and speak to her. He had attended Bertrild’s funeral, which had been interesting and worth discussing in the light of what she might know of the five men under suspicion, but what Mainard had found after Bell had left him on Sunday might be more significant.

  For a time after the coffinmaker had set the box on its trestles in the common chamber, Mainard told Bell, he had just sat beside it, still unable to absorb what had happened. At dinnertime, Jean had come in, scratching the doorframe timidly, and when Mainard looked up, had asked his master whether he wanted food brought in or served in the solar and what he preferred to eat.

  Mainard had been about to say he was not hungry and send the man away when he realized that Jean was clad in little more than rags. Whatever Bertrild had done, it was not fitting that servants should attend to guests at her burying in such disgraceful condition, he thought. So he had told Jean to have his dinner brought to the solar, above, and when he had eaten it—he found he was hungry as a wolf once he began—he started to look through Bertrild’s chest to find garments suitable for the cook and the maid.

  Most of the dresses were too richly ornamented, but at the very bottom of the chest were some worn gowns from which the embroidered collars and facings had been removed. And when those were lifted out, Mainard saw the bundles of tally sticks. He told Bell he had stood staring, knowing there was something foul connected with those hidden accounts.

  He had given the clothing to the maid and sent her away, weeping with joy. Then he had removed and examined the tally sticks. He had not recognized the banker’s mark, but that had been no surprise, he told Bell; if Bertrild had hidden the accounts from him, she would not be likely to use the same banker as he did. That had spurred him to send the now passably clad cook and maid out to the market to buy one decent tunic and chausses apiece for Jean and Hamo, since his old clothing would be much too large. When the women returned with those, Mainard sent Jean to Master Leon Basynges, his own banker, with a note asking him to provide the name of the banker whose mark was on Bertrild’s tally sticks. Jean had returned promptly; Bertrild’s banker had been Master Johannes Gerlund.

  When Bell, who had arrived at the Old Priory Guesthouse as he had planned, shortly after the second set of clients was safely locked away with their women, got that far in retelling the tale to Magdalene, she uttered an exasperated sigh. “Master Mainard will get little help from that man.”

  “Why? Is he dishonest?”

  Her lips quirked. “Only insofar as he is one who enters the priory as if for a religious purpose and then sneaks through the back gate to us.” She shrugged. “That might mean he could be dishonest if pressed, but what I was thinking is that Gerlund will never offer an opinion and thus be of no help if Master Mainard needs advice.”

  “He would not, you think, have a false set of tally sticks that show the account was paid and closed so he could keep whatever she deposited? That would be a good reason for murder.”

  “Yes, but there is the problem of Codi’s knife.”

  Bell snorted. “Whyever did the murderer steal the knife? God knows it is being more help to us than it is to him. Even if he had killed Mistress Bertrild with it, as he planned, it must limit the number of people who could be guilty.”

  “Yes, but he intended using Codi’s knife to limit the number of suspects to Mainard and Codi. He probably did not know that Mainard would be at Newelyne’s christening party and—”

  “Where is Sabina?” Bell interrupted suddenly, looking around.

  “She had an engagement to sing and play for a betrothal dinner. She was of two minds about going, wondering if she would be thought improper for going to sing when there was a death in her ‘family,’ but I pointed out that she would be leaving her cl
ient with no entertainer if she did not go. I suggested she speak to the client and explain what had happened and leave the decision to him.”

  “Well, thank God she is not here because I must tell you that Mainard’s defense of being at Newelyne’s party is very little defense at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He hides in dark corners, I spoke to a dozen people, all well disposed toward him, and even combined with Newelyne’s testimony his whereabouts cannot be definitely accounted for much after Sext, when he brought Sabina food and drink, until nearly Vespers, when he went to stand near her in readiness to take her home. All the time between, he could easily have left the house, and no one would have noticed he was gone.”

  “Do you think him guilty?”

  Bell sighed. “The truth is, I do not. If Sabina had been with him, if Bertrild had attacked Sabina—and there is that bruise on Bertrild’s body that could have been made by Sabina’s staff…only Sabina could not have been there; she was in plain sight all but a few minutes when she was taken to the privy—then it is barely possible that his rage would have been so great that he would have drawn his belt knife and struck at Bertrild.”

  “But he did not do so only a few days earlier when Bertrild did attack Sabina in her room, above the shop. He only carried that madwoman out, kicking and screaming. And whatever his rage, I cannot imagine Mainard taking Codi’s knife and using it to implicate his poor journeyman.”

  “No, nor can I,” Bell said, shrugging. “So let us go back to the five men who could have stolen Codi’s knife.”

  “Wait. Before I tell you what I learned, did you see the tally sticks?” Bell shook his head and Magdalene shrugged. She had not really expected he would be able to examine them while making ready to bury Bertrild. “Well, when you do, see if there are any dates indicated, and if there are, see if the deposits begin about a month or six weeks ago.”