Magdalene gasped, and both men looked at her. “The morning after the craftmark had been discovered. Could that attack have been a coincidence?”
“I did not think so,” Bell said, looking a bit smug. “I left four men to keep a guard on the goldsmith, so he should be quite safe.”
“Yes, but…but….”
Magdalene’s glance flew around the room, and she drew a deep and calmer breath when she saw that no one was paying any attention to their little group or trying to listen to them. The sacristan was still deep in his own thoughts, and not pleasant ones judging by his expression; the prior and the other monks were listening to Brother Elwin urging something on Brother Patric; and the priest and archdeacon were now arguing with Guiscard about the way he had phrased something in his report. Reassured, she turned to Bell, who was frowning.
“Well? But?” He was a little annoyed, thinking she was about to raise an objection.
She waved a hand at him to indicate he should lower his voice. ‘There is no need to tell everyone about the goldsmith. Do you not remember there were only a few of us who knew a craftmark had been discovered? Do you not see that it must have been one of the people in the prior’s chamber when we talked of that who tried to silence the goldsmith? And we are all here again—except for the priest and the archdeachon.” She looked up at Bell. “How badly was the man hurt? Is he awake yet? Could he be carried here on a litter?”
“I do not know, except to say he was not hurt to the death. I asked and was told he would recover. But I can find the answers to the other questions quickly enough. I will send a man to my guards and they will bring him, if it is at all possible.”
Now Magdalene turned eagerly to Winchester. “My lord, is there any way you could keep all of us here until the goldsmith arrives? If he has before him most of those who were near when Brother Godwine died and he can pick out one as the person who ordered the copies made—”
The bishop nodded curtly.
Chapter Twenty
28 April 1139
The Bishop’s House, Southwark
Before Bell could look for a messenger to send to the goldsmith’s house, the man he had sent to St. Albans to ask about Beaumeis accosted him and reported that Beaumeis had been with his uncle from Tuesday evening until midmorning of the previous day. The man-at-arms seemed a bit disappointed when Bell merely nodded over what he had thought was startling information, but he had come across another tidbit. He thought it less important, but it got the reaction his first news had failed to produce. Bell’s lips parted and his eyes widened.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, indeed,” the man-at-arms said, and recited what he had done.
“So.” Bell pulled a coin from his purse to reward the man for not being afraid to go further than his strict instructions, but he did not explain why he was so pleased, then dismissed his man.
He stood for a moment digesting what he had heard, now certain they would find the plate stolen from St. Mary Overy church in St. Albans. He had started to turn back to tell Winchester when another man-at-arms, one of the guards he had left to watch over the goldsmith, spoke his name. His heart sank heavily because the fact he had learned was not proof of guilt—they needed the goldsmith’s testimony—but the man relieved his fears by telling him that Master Domenic was right there in the bishop’s house.
“When ‘e slept off th’ potion th’ ‘pothecary gave ‘im ‘nd woke up this mornin’, ‘e wanted t’ know what we was doin’ in ‘is ‘ouse ‘nd who we was. Then when Michael told ‘im we was the bishop’s guards sent t’ be sure ‘e weren’t attacked again ‘nd give ‘im yer message ‘bout the craftmark, ‘e got all excited like and insisted on comin’ ‘ere.”
“Well, no harm’s done.” Bell smiled. “I was just about to send a man to you to ask if he was well enough to be carried here. I gather that wasn’t necessary.”
“No, sir.” The guard grinned back. “Fact is, we ‘ad a time keepin’ up with ‘im. Real eager to get ‘ere, ‘e were.”
That information was rendered superfluous while the guard was speaking. A short, tubby man with a large bruise on his temple, a very red nose, and marks of its dripping on his sleeves, had got to his feet as he saw the guard approach Bell and now came forward.
He sniffed richly and then said in a rather thick, hoarse voice, “So the bishop saw my copies and found my craftmark. I am very pleased, indeed I am. Master William, the clerk who ordered them, did not want me to put a craftmark on because they were copies of Master Jacob the Alderman’s work, and I agreed that it would be wrong to put my mark where he put his, as if the work were mine, but they were good copies, well done, and I thought it could do no harm to put my small mark off in a corner.”