“Well, he did not succeed in that. I was there by accident—I will tell you about that later—but Lord William and the bishop finally agreed to divide the spoils. Winchester kept the bull and Lord William took the letter and the remainder of the contents—letters of introduction and credit and some money—to the king.”
Dulcie brought the soup tureen in just then. Ella got up to bring bowls from the shelf, and when she set them down, Magdalene began to ladle out the soup. Ella slapped the bowl down in front of Bell so hard that the soup splashed. Magdalene protested, and Ella said he did not deserve to be cosseted after leaving them exposed. It did not matter that no harm had come of it, she insisted. That was luck. Safety should not be left to luck. Magdalene bit her lip, hearing her own words come back at her. She had worked hard to train Ella into self-protective patterns and did not dare scold her for them now.
Bell seemed to understand, because he apologized between spooning up mouthfuls of soup. “I did take the key,” he admitted. “And I forgot all about it. I will put it back on its hook as soon as I finish eating. I should have done that last night, but I thought I would come back with Magdalene. I could not because the bishop had work for me, and it is not yet done.”
“Then you did not find the goldsmith?” Magdalene asked.
Bell sighed. “No. I was all over London this morning visiting craftmasters whose names begin with S. The Guildmaster gave me a list, but none of them knew anything about the chalice, candlesticks, and patens that have been copied. We even had the journeymen in and asked if any had done them as a side job—they were copies, after all—but no one seemed to be guilty or troubled. And Jacob the Alderman swears that the molds were destroyed after the candlesticks were cast. His reputation is too good to doubt his word, and frankly, I believed the others, too. None of their marks were anything like those on the copies.”
“They would not be if the journeyman was lying about having done the work,” Magdalene said.
“True, but I doubt they were lying. A metalsmith cannot simply rent a room and do his work there. The hearths and forges and tools for metalworking are not easily come by, so a journeyman who wants to do work on his own must do it in his master’s shop. Again, metalsmithing is not quiet work, not something a man could do on the sly while his fellow apprentices and journeymen sleep.”
“True enough, but I never thought the letter referred to a man’s name. A master’s mark is his name. It is placed so a work can be identified and those who like that work can order pieces from the same master. I put a mark into my embroideries; several mercers know it and can order work from me. You were right that it might signify a journeyman working under his master’s mark, but it might mean something else, too. Most goldsmiths have their shops in London. What if a man established a place near enough for Londoners to buy from but where rents were much cheaper? Might such a man not put an S on his sign to signify Southwark?”
“Hmm, yes. You mentioned that before. I had forgot it, and the bishop said to try goldsmiths with names beginning with S. Well, there cannot be so many goldsmiths in Southwark. I think I will try here before I go back to London.”
At that point Dulcie brought in a large pasty, a platter piled high with cold meat, and another with rounds of bread well smeared with dripping. There had been no time to prepare a hot meal, but all had excellent appetites because of their unaccustomed labor and no one complained when Magdalene served out generous portions. Conversation was also suspended while all devoted themselves to their food.
Bell went out as soon as he was finished, Ella pursuing him to the gate to get the key he had again forgotten. She returned after hanging it in its usual place, full of righteousness, and the other women dutifully hid their smiles until she went off to her room. It was not easy to get an idea into Ella’s head, but once it was there—like avoiding knives and the river and locking the house—it was there for good. Magdalene then exclaimed with exasperation because she had pulled in the bell cord before they left to clean the church and had forgotten to tell Bell to push it out again. Letice went to take care of that, and the rest of them cleared the table and set the room to rights.
They were hardly done before the bell pealed. Magdalene sighed. “God knows, I hope the church can be reconsecrated tomorrow and that this never happens again. I feel as if we have been running hard all day long and cannot catch up.”
The client was Sabina’s Master Mainard, and he came in with Letice, his hood, as usual, pulled so far over his head that his face was invisible and his greeting muffled. Sabina recognized either his step or the muffled voice, went to him at once and took his hand with real affection. Magdalene watched them go to Sabina’s chamber, their heads bent toward one another.
“We are going to lose her,” she said softly to Letice. “Between her pity for him and his kindness and passion for her, she will agree to go with him.”