Letice cocked her head to the side, pointed to Sabina’s room and made a cutting gesture, then a query gesture.
“Of course I will let her go,” Magdalene said. “If she begins to hate her work, she will be useless here, and I think Master Mainard will give her everything any woman could desire. Her blindness is precious to him, and there are not many men of whom that can be said. But where am I to get another Sabina?”
Letice uttered her silent laugh, made a gesture of closing a door, then turned about and pretended to open another.
Before Magdalene could reply, the bell pealed again and she gestured to Letice and went to answer it. Ella’s client was all agog at the news of the second murder and the desecration of the church. He stayed talking until the bell pealed a third time, when he finally went off to Ella’s room. Magdalene felt as if she could not bear to make conversation with another person, but Letice came out to greet her client herself and brought him in, wiggling her hips and making suggestive gestures with her fingers. He did not even glance at Magdalene but followed Letice immediately into her room, leaving Magdalene to bless her woman’s kindness and perception. She stared around blankly for a moment, knowing she was too tired and overwrought to work, and decided that this once she would indulge herself and lie down while her women were occupied with their clients.
She was asleep as soon as she removed her shoes, lay down on the bed, and pulled the coverlet over her. The knowledge of the two deaths weighted her spirit, evoking bitter memories, and pressed her deep into sleep. From time to time, she dreamed she heard a bell ring somewhere, but the sound was always cut off before she could force herself awake to respond to it, and she continued to sleep, hardly stirring.
Later, when she was less exhausted, she thought she heard Bell’s voice saying her name, and she stirred sensuously in her bed. The call did not come again, however, and she sank back to sleep once more, but less deeply. Still later, she was dimly aware that someone had entered her room and started to force open her eyes, but a soft glow told her it was only Dulcie lighting her night candle. That troubled her, although she did not know why, and she was stirring toward wakening so that when a hand fell on her shoulder, she opened her eyes without shock.
Then she drew breath to scream, but it was too late. The light of the night candle gleamed on a drawn knife blade. A heartbeat later, a sharp prick warned her that the knife was touching her throat. A voice hissed at her.
“Shhh! Quiet! If you cry out, I will kill you. If you tell me what I want to know…we will see.”
Chapter Nineteen
27 April 1139
Old Priory Guesthouse
“Why do you not stay the night?” Sabina asked Master Mainard as his hand slipped out of hers and he reluctantly got out of bed. “The price is the same and you will be very welcome to me.”
“I cannot, my love,” he replied, his voice low with regret; she heard him walk across the room and take his clothes from the chest on which they lay. “I have already lingered far longer than I should. My wife will not be pleased. She will complain over my being late, but if I am away all night, she will make my life hell, even if my guild-fellows lie for me and swear that I was in their sight every moment. She will go to the priest, to the guildmaster, to my friends…. I would not care if she only cursed and accused me, but she insults them and rages at them.”
Sabina sighed. She liked to feel Master Mainard’s strong, warm body beside her. She liked it even more that he talked to her about everyday things, about an order for a special saddle, about the naughtiness of his apprentices, and a quarrel between two journeymen that had nearly come to a battle with wickedly sharp, curved leather knives. It was almost as if she were his wife and he were talking over with her the business of the day. He listened to her also, with grave intensity, when she suggested ways of gently curbing the apprentices and soothing the journeymen.
In the course of the talk, he had told her other things without realizing it. She never acknowledged those slips about troubles increased or fomented, debts incurred, but they had built for her a picture of the personal devil who was his wife. He might stay if she urged him, but he would suffer for it acutely. Sabina sighed again and rose.
She drew on a warm bedrobe, for the nights were still chilly, and opened the door. “Is there only one torchette alight near the door, Master Mainard?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“Then I will let you out the front way because everyone else is gone and the street torches are there. I hope I did not keep you too long. I like to talk to you” —she laughed softly— “and to love you also. It is selfish of me to hold you when I know it might make trouble for you, but I never think of it until too late.”