Without speaking, the bishop rose, possibly to leave the room, but when he turned, he saw Magdalene. To her surprise, he said, “You know Beaumeis best, I think, despite the fact that he lived with the monks in the priory. To them, he always tried to pretend virtue; he did not think enough of you or your women to pretend. Do you believe what he told us?”
Magdalene sighed. “My lord, I hate to admit it, but I do. Perhaps he is even a better actor than Guiscard said, but that tale was very convincing. I would swear he really did not know the pouch had been found in the church or that Brother Godwine had been murdered. And what he did when Baldassare was killed is just like his actions last night. He made a plan, but the moment a little thing went wrong, he ran away. Still, he is a dreadful man. I shudder to think what he will do if he is confirmed in office as a deacon.”
The rigidity of the bishop’s face eased. “Oh, I do not think that will happen. Even if he can prove himself innocent of murder, his attempt to steal a papal bull is no light fault. I think even his uncle will not object if I arrange for him to retire for many years to some monastery, perhaps as a lay brother.”
“That might be worse for him than being hanged.”
Magdalene could not help smiling as she offered that sop to the spirit of vengeance, but she had really lost interest in Beaumeis. The murderer was still not marked and she and her women were still at risk—and Winchester might be less interested in identifying the murderer now that the pouch was found and he had his bull.
“If Beaumeis is not guilty,” she went on before the bishop could move away, “and if what he said is true, it is clear that Baldassare knew the man who stopped beside the altar. My lord, do you remember that the safe box was under the altar?”
The bishop looked confused. “The safe box? But what has that to do with the pouch and Baldassare’s murder?”
“Perhaps everything,” Bell said, leaning down again and keeping his voice low. “What if Baldassare was not murdered for the pouch but for chancing upon someone he knew was stealing, or about to steal, the church plate?”
“I see,” the bishop said, sitting down again. “I see.”
“But then—” Magdalene’s voice was loud with excitement as what Beaumeis said finally made sense. Hearing it, she put a hand over her lips and looked hastily around the room.
She expected to see every churchman staring angrily at the whore who was shouting at a bishop, but she was mistaken about that. The monks were far more concerned about whether the Abbot of St. Albans would blame them for what had happened and were indifferent to her. All except the sacristan were clustered around Father Benin, and even the sacristan was not paying attention to her; he was standing a little apart, staring down at the floor. The Archdeacon of St. Paul’s was beside Guiscard, reading over his notes of the interrogation, and the priest was holding Buchuinte—who Magdalene thought was looking longingly at the door—by the sleeve and talking earnestly.
The bishop, who was twisting his neck to look at her, asked kindly, “But then what, Magdalene?”
“Now I understand that conversation Beaumeis related,” she said, stepping to the other side to be out of Bell’s way and coming closer. “If it was the thief who killed Baldassare, those two were talking to each other but about entirely different things. When the monk said he could explain, he meant he could explain what looked like a robbery. And when Baldassare said he understood, he must have meant he knew you did not want the bull delivered in a public way that would incite your enemies, but the thief thought he had seen him stealing. So when Baldassare said, ‘Wait here,’ meaning he would fetch the pouch from where he had hidden it, the monk panicked, drew him out of the church, where sound, if Baldassare cried out, might carry…and killed him.”
“Except for one thing,” Bell put in, his eyes bright with revelation. He drew a deep breath and said, “My lord, if Baldassare was killed for recognizing the thief, the thief could not have been a monk. How would Baldassare know a simple monk? Bishops he knew, and some of the important abbots, for it was to them he carried the pope’s messages, but a common monk?”
Magdalene’s eyes widened. “And I know more certainly it could not have been a monk of St. Mary Overy priory because Baldassare had never previously visited either the church or the priory. He told me so, and had to ask me before he could be sure the church he saw from my gate was St. Mary Overy.”
“Not a monk.” The bishop looked up from one to the other. “Must we seek throughout England for the murderer?”
“No, indeed,” Bell replied, now smiling grimly. “If the thief is the murderer, I will have his name very soon, or if he gave a false name, a good description of him. Remember, my lord, I reported to you yesterday that I had found the goldsmith who made the copies of the stolen plate. I would know now who had brought him the originals and ordered the copies, except that yesterday I could not ask him any questions. He had been attacked that very morning—”