Dulcie nodded. “I be fillin’ it wit’ rocks and stickin’ it in wit’ the sheets that need washin’,” she said. “On me way to th’ laundress, it’ll fall in th’ river.”
“Are you sure, Dulcie? If you were caught—”
“Course I be sure. Who looks at ‘n old woman wit’ a basket ‘f laundry? If you ‘r one ‘f th’ others went out wit’ it, there’d be ten pairs eyes on y’ every minnit.”
When Magdalene came from the kitchen, Dulcie following, the others were waiting, worried frowns alternating with frankly greedy glances. Letice tapped her arm and pointed upward. Magdalene glanced up, too, but then shook her head.
“It is too dusty up in the loft and we have no time to clean. If we were up there when someone came, we would be sure to betray that fact somehow. If someone knocks, I will gather up the pouch and run to my room to tie it between my legs. No one can think it unnatural for me to be in my room. With the shutters still closed, I think we are safe enough here.”
She then laid out on the table one of the long, narrow cloths she stuffed with rags to absorb the blood of her flux. In the center, she placed the pouch. If there was any disturbance, she need only roll the cloth around the pouch and run into her room. Then she began to work on the knot. It was not difficult once she found the key loop, and the pouch was soon open. Holding the heavy, round shapes at the bottom, which she was sure were coins, Magdalene tipped it slowly, so it would disgorge the rest of its contents without scattering them all over the table and the floor.
The first thing to slide out was a heavy square packet of parchment, made heavier yet by the large lead seal fastened to the silken cords that bound the document. “Oh, no!” Magdalene started to say when another document, less elaborately sealed, with red wax but bearing the same design, slid out atop the first. Following that was a letter, then another, these also with seals but deliberately left open.
Hoping against hope, Magdalene bent closer to peer at the large lead seal. Around it were words in Latin. She could not read them, but from their position, she guessed they were a motto; within were two stylized faces and above them, the letters S.PE and S.PA. She could not understand the motto, but she knew well enough that S.PE meant Saint Peter and S.PA meant Saint Paul. Biting her lip, she turned the seal over and made out the name—Innocent II.
“Mary have mercy on us,” Magdalene said in a failing voice. “That is the pope’s seal, and it is lead. This is a papal bull our guest was carrying. Oh, my God, we dare not destroy it.”
“A papal bull?” Sabina put out her hand and Magdalene brought it to the seal. The blind woman’s fingers touched it delicately. “Are these letters?”
“Yes. On one side is the name of the pope, on the other the faces of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.”
Feeling around the parchment packet, Sabina found the second document with its wax seal. “This is the same,” she said. “Is it also a bull?”
“No, the seal is not metal. Likely that is a letter.” Magdalene’s mouth twisted. “Doubtless an important one.”
Letice picked up the letter and drew her eating knife. Without actually touching it, she made signs of sliding the knife under the wax.
“It is almost certainly in Latin,” Magdalene said. “I will not be able to read it. Let me look at these first.” With the words, she took up the open letters. “Ah, this one is in French. It is a letter of credit on the goldsmith Basyngs and those associated with his house, authorizing Baldassare de Firenze to obtain from them a substantial sum of money.” She sighed. “His name was Baldassare de Firenze. How sad that I cannot tell anyone who he was.”
Letice touched the letter.
“No,” Magdalene said, setting it aside and taking up the second one. “There is no way we could use it, not without being hung for murder.” She unfolded the other, read some, nodded, and set that atop the first. “This one is also in French; it is a letter of introduction, asking in the pope’s name for any and all to give what help he needs to Baldassare de Firenze. That has been unfolded and used several times. The letter of credit has had less use.” She grimaced. “He must have been using the money in the pouch first.”
Now she reached in and drew the coins from the pouch and breathed a sigh of relief. They were good English pennies, showing a little wear but no clipping, and mixed in with them, two coins that glinted yellow. She picked them out and stared at them. Gold. No one used gold coin, but no doubt the papal treasury had some hoarded. Small as they were, they were heavy. Meant to be changed for silver by a goldsmith. She sighed and shook her head.
“They are of no use to us,” she said and slipped them back into the pouch.
“You be goin’ t’ drop gold in t’ river?” Dulcie asked, eyes round as saucers.
Magdalene looked at her. “No,” she said, loudly and clearly. “We cannot throw the pouch in the river. This” —she touched it— “is a bull from the pope. It is very important.”