Magdalene and her women held their breath, but Ella did not, as she might well have done, go on to explain that she had wanted the last guest but that he had chosen Sabina. Letice took one of Magdalene’s hands, Sabina took the other. All prayed that Ella had forgotten.
“You must not lie to a priest,” the sacristan said, not shouting but slowly and carefully so that she would understand. “If you lie to me, you will be damned and burn for eternity, your flesh will be torn with nail-studded whips, your limbs will be broken and you will be forced to walk on them. Torments I cannot even name will be applied to you if you do not speak the truth to me.”
Magdalene’s hands tightened on those of her women and she heard Sabina muttering a litany of curses under her breath. They could hear Ella sobbing. Tears formed in Magdalene’s eyes. The poor child would have nightmares.
“I am telling the truth. I had no friend with me last night. Earlier—” She stopped abruptly, remembering that she was not supposed to speak about the men who visited them.
“So there was a man here.” There was a vicious satisfaction in the sacristan’s voice.
Magdalene edged to the door frame and peeped in, hoping that Ella would catch a glimpse of her and be less frightened. Poor Ella was trembling, and crystal tears rolled down her cheeks.
“A…a friend was with me f-for a little while,” she stammered.
“Oh, a friend? A man you do not know, had never seen before in your life, and will never see again? That kind of friend?”
“Oh, no,” Ella said, blinking with surprise. “I know him very well. He has been my friend for a long time, several years, I think. And if nothing unusual happens, I will see him again on Friday.”
There was a moment of silence, the sacristan being taken aback, but then he asked, “And your friend’s name?”
To give a name, Ella knew, was absolutely forbidden, but the question did not trouble her. She would not need to lie. She never could remember the men’s names.
“I do not recall his name,” she said earnestly. “Magdalene might be able to tell you, or she might not. Some men do not give their names. I—”
“A friend of many years who still will not tell you his name?” He started to say he did not believe her and add to his threats about the results of lying to a priest, but Ella’s light laugh stopped him.
“I was just going to tell you. I call him Poppe, and he calls me Little Flower. He brings me pretty things. See, I will show you. He brought me a blue hair ribbon yesterday.”
The sacristan ground his teeth. “I suppose you do not know what this friend looks like either?”
“Of course I know what he looks like,” Ella said indignantly. She had never been told not to describe the men she lay with. “He has good strong thighs with hard muscles, and a little round belly. But it is not all soft and flabby; it is firm and nice to kiss, with a line of hair growing down from his navel—that is nice, too, a neat little split, not bulging out like some. And the hair around his rod is—
“Stop!” the sacristan roared, finding his voice, which seemed to have been suspended by shock. “Harlot! Whore!”
Ella said meekly, “Yes?”
Magdalene slid back out of sight, she, Letice, and Sabina pressing their hands against their mouths and grinding their teeth to hold back whoops of laughter. They were safe now. Ella’s mind was fixed on Master Buchuinte. The sacristan probably could not get her to think of anything else.
“I meant his face,” the sacristan snarled. “What does his face look like?”
“Face?” Ella repeated blankly. “It is a face like any other, not specially pretty nor specially ugly. A nice face; it smiles a lot.”
Even the sacristan could see that she was trying to be helpful and describe the man, but it did not really matter what he looked like. The detailed description she had given of his body had already eliminated the possibility that she had slept with the dead man. The corpse, washed and prepared for burial, had been lean and hard.
“A nice smile,” Ella continued brightly. “His lips are nice, too. Firm and not wet—
“Enough. Now tell me what you did last night.”
Momentarily, tension again seized Magdalene, and then Ella’s little-girl voice, sounding rather doubtful, said, “Poppe was here from about Nones until near Vespers. I am not sure I remember everything we did, but first—”
Magdalene breathed again, bit her lip again when Brother Paulinus shouted, “No, not that. I mean, what did you do after your ‘friend’ left you?”
“Oh, that is easy. I ate my evening meal and then Magdalene sent me to bed. I fell asleep right away.”