The bell at the gate pealed. Magdalene smiled at him. “Come out the back way, Master Buchuinte. Unfortunately, I cannot take you through the gate to the church. The sacristan locked the gate after Messer Baldassare’s death, so you will have to go the long way around.”
He was so reluctant to go that he lingered for some time in the garden, talking to her, hoping, she guessed, that she would urge him to change his mind and come back to the house. She did think about it, but decided that although he did not wish to be deprived of his pleasure, that pleasure would turn sour in his mouth when he thought about it later. And, of course, he would blame her for his lust, telling himself that he would have gone to the church to see Baldassare but that she was greedy for the fee and had over-persuaded him so as not to lose it.
Magdalene finally got him out the gate and headed up toward the lane that followed the priory wall. She grinned as she turned back to the house. Likely Master Buchuinte was thoroughly annoyed with her for not permitting him to fry his peas and still use them as seed, but he would never admit that to himself. And it would do her no harm, because his anger would fade in his glow of righteousness at having conquered his lust for the sake of his dead friend. He would be back on Monday with a clear conscience and an even greater taste for the pleasures Ella offered.
As she entered the house Magdalene paused. When she left, Sabina had been sitting by the fire, humming softly to herself. Now she was gone. Apparently she had got Dulcie to go with her to let in the client while Magdalene was in the back garden with Buchuinte. She was surprised not to see Letice yet. Her guest was keeping her later than usual, unless he had left and the late-afternoon client had already come? She had not heard the bell, but several clients liked to walk in without the courtesy of ringing it. And just as the thought formed, the peal sounded. Magdalene laughed at herself for that prick of pride. The last thing a whore needed was pride. Smiling, she went out to the gate again.
“Somer!” she exclaimed when she saw the man who had just dismounted. “Did you send a message for me to expect you?”
“No, because I did not know I was coming until late last night. I have been on the road since first light. Take me in and feed me at least, and give me a bed for the night, even if none of the girls can lie in it with me.”
“Ah, I can do better than an empty bed—” She broke off abruptly, remembering why Ella’s bed was empty, then grasped his hand and drew him in. “Good Lord,” she said as she shut the gate behind him, “you are the man I should have prayed to see if I had a grain of sense. Put your horse in the stable and come in. I will get Dulcie to find something for you to eat. I have news I think William should hear.”
Somer de Loo grimaced when Magdalene said she had news for his master, but he nodded and led his horse briskly to the stable. Magdalene understood the expression. Somer was one of William of Ypres’s most trusted mercenary captains. He had doubtless come from Rochester to London on some business of William’s, since he said he had been on the road since first light; however, business done, he probably had William’s permission to spend some time enjoying the delights of the city—including several visits to Magdalene’s house at his master’s expense. It was a reward William often offered his men for good service that was not dangerous enough or important enough to be rewarded in gold. Now Somer guessed he would have to ride back to Rochester with the news Magdalene had mentioned.
When he came in he was still scowling, but the expression changed to a smile when he saw a place at the table provided with a large wedge of pasty, several slices of fat roast pork on a trencher, a bowl of stewed greens, a tall footed cup filled with wine, and to the side, a substantial piece of tart, spilling a luscious-looking filling into the baking pan—and Ella, sitting on the bench beside his place and dimpling with smiles.
“I am starving,” he said, sitting down and kissing her.
She returned the salute with enthusiasm, embracing him with one arm and breaking off a chunk of the pasty with her free hand. As soon as he came up for air, she popped the tidbit into his mouth. Between laughing and trying to chew, he almost choked. Ella patted him on the back and apologized anxiously, so he kissed her again, but after that he gave his attention to the food, and Ella slid away from him when he drew his knife to spear a piece of meat.
“There is plenty more if you want it,” Magdalene assured him.
He paused with the meat on the point of his knife and raised his brow at her tone of voice. Magdalene shrugged. Somer bit off a substantial chunk of meat.
“None of us had much appetite for dinner with the bishop’s man searching our house while we ate.”
Somer’s eyes bulged as he struggled to swallow his mouthful of food. “Searching?” he croaked. “Searching for what?”
“The papal messenger’s pouch.”
“What?”