“I think so.” Sabina’s voice was tremulous. “Or maybe he opened it, although that is less likely. I would have heard the latch and the hinges, I think. Still, you and Letice had better come and look through all my things. Who knows what else he might have hidden?”
Magdalene agreed but bid Sabina wait while she looked carefully at the common-room chest and the area around it where she had laid the dead man’s cloak the previous afternoon. He must have taken the cloak when he went out to the church, but there was the possibility that something had dropped from it. There was nothing, not even any strands of the fur lining caught on a rough edge or splinter. Magdalene pushed the chest forward, but there was nothing behind it or on the floor. By then, Letice had returned and indicated that the stable was clear of any sign that an animal had been left there.
They went to Sabina’s room then, and the worst was over at once. Magdalene, the tallest of the women, set a low stool on the chest there and, steadied by Letice, climbed up. Behind the horizontal beams that supported the floor of the loft, there was a hollow. Stuffed into that, just beyond easy reach, was the supple leather pouch the dead man had carried. It was a good, safe spot; had not Sabina said she heard the man climb on the chest, they probably would not have found it.
Magdalene uttered a small sigh of disappointment as she pulled the pouch from its concealment. “You were right, Sabina,” she said, climbing down, the pouch caught in the crook of her arm. “But I could wish you had not been, or had remembered this last night.”
“I am sorry,” Sabina whispered.
Magdalene sighed. “Oh, no, love, of course you could not. You were half out of your mind.” Shrugging, she dropped the pouch onto the bed beside Sabina. “Still, too bad we could not push it into one of the saddlebags. Now one of us will have to go downriver and drop it in.” Then she bit her lip and added, “Letice, go and lock the back door. We will need some warning if Brother Paulinus remembers he was too busy demanding a confession to be practical and search for signs of the man’s presence. He might get a rush of sense to the head and return to do that.”
“What will you do with the pouch?” Sabina breathed.
“Hide it between my legs. Thank God, it is soft. I can wrap it in a rag and say I am bleeding. After the shock Ella gave him and our looks and laughter over his desire to question a known whore ‘alone,’ I do not think he will demand a search of my flux rags. If he does, I will simply refuse and say he wants to find an excuse for a lewd examination. Now,” she said when Letice returned, “let us search carefully. Not even a curly hair should be left behind.”
She and Letice were thorough, unfolding and shaking out every garment in the chest, looking behind it and under it, taking the mattress off the bed and examining the frame and straps. Behind the chest they found one Italian silver coin, which Magdalene laid atop the chest. When they were through searching, she picked it up again and sadly rubbed it between her fingers.
“Poor man,” she sighed. “He seemed a cheerful, kindly person.” Then she looked from the coin in her hand to the pouch, which was lying on the bed. “He was richly dressed and riding a fine horse,” she murmured thoughtfully. “And his purse was full of coins, but they were small coins. I saw when he emptied the purse into his hand to pay the fee I named. He had perhaps ten whole pennies, some halfpence, and a handful of farthings. Who will lay odds with me,” she went on, looking from one woman to the other, “that there is more coin in this pouch?”
“Not I,” Sabina said. “I felt when you put it down on the bed that it was heavy. Coin is heavy.”
Letice grinned and shook her head. But then she frowned and touched the intricately tied cord that held the pouch closed. She made a gesture of cutting and shook her head.
“You know, that is a wise thought, Letice,” Magdalene said. “If we cut the cord and someone should somehow find the pouch before we can be rid of it, we have hung ourselves.” Then she smiled broadly. “No matter. I think I can undo that and even retie it, or make another similar knot. My naughty archdeacon—the one who taught me to read and write—showed me several church knots.”
She picked up the pouch, but Sabina said, “We had better dress first. If Brother Paulinus returns, he will want to know what we were doing all this time.”
“Clinging to each other and weeping with terror,” Magdalene said, her lips twisting.
Letice threw back her head and laughed, making no sound beyond a slight outrush of air; then she tugged at her nightrobe and went to her own chamber. Magdalene did the same, and as soon as she was dressed, went to the kitchen, where Ella was prattling away to Dulcie, who nodded and smiled, although she probably made out about one word in ten. Having sent Ella off to get dressed and told her to work on her embroidery when she was ready, Magdalene showed Dulcie the pouch, made clear that it was the dead man’s and that they must be rid of it as soon as she had seen what was inside.