“But it was the whores,” Brother Godwine protested. “I told you that Messer Baldassare did not come through the front gate. He came through the back, from the whorehouse, and Brother Sacristan says the whores followed him and killed him.”
“So Brother Sacristan says,” Bell replied, “but as I told Brother Paulinus, I think it highly unlikely. Why should a whore take such a risk when she could poison Baldassare’s wine in the comfort and privacy of her own house and be rid of the evidence of her crime by throwing his body in the river? A knife, used so precisely, is more likely a man’s weapon. Moreover, it seems that Messer Baldassare had planned a meeting with someone that night, so it is not impossible that one of the guests came for that purpose—”
“And committed murder? Oh, I do not believe it.”
“Perhaps your faith will be justified,” Bell said, “but I still need to know who guested here that night.”
“I am not sure I know all the names…I did not open the gate for every single guest—”
“But you know Baldassare did not enter by this gate?”
“Because Brother Patric and Brother Elwin watched the gate when I was not by. I asked them. They swore that only three mounted men came in by the gate and that only three horses were ever in the stable at any time that afternoon and night.”
“Very good. Make sure the names of the three mounted men are included among the guests.”
Brother Godwine shook his head. “I do not know their names, not two of them, at least. But they are all known to Brother Paulinus. They have done work for the mother house and were sent to examine what, if anything, needs to be done here. But I cannot go about finding out all the names right now. I will send you a list of them after Vespers.”
“That will do. Send it superscribed with my name—Sir Bellamy of Itchen—to the bishop’s house. I will then want to question the brothers at large as to whether and when and where they saw the guests.”
“It is almost time for evening prayers, a little supper, and then for bed.”
The last two phrases set off an urgent desire. The sun was low in the west and Bell could just imagine a small table in Magdalene’s chamber set with a cozy supper for two, the good bed with its coverlet turned down in the background. He nodded brusquely to the porter, and as he signaled for the gate to be opened, said over his shoulder that he could ask his questions the next day, but desired to have the list this night to discover if any in the bishop’s Household knew those on it.
Chapter Nine
21 April 1139
Old Priory Guesthouse
The image of warm food, comfort, and hospitality was still vivid in Bell’s mind when he rang the bell at the gate. When there was no quick answer, he ground his teeth and rang again, louder. Doubtless she was plying her trade and did not wish to be disturbed, but that was nothing to him. He was about to peal the bell for the third time when he saw the door of the house open. Magdalene came forward slowly, but she was fully dressed, not covered in a hastily donned bedrobe.
“Sir Bellamy!” she exclaimed as soon as she could see his face. “I did not expect you again today, but I am very glad you came. I have some interesting news for you.”
“I am sorry to disturb you when you are busy,” he said stiffly.
“I was only embroidering, but since Messer Baldassare’s death, I find myself reluctant to answer the bell if everyone I expect is already in the house. Come in, Sir Bellamy.”
He followed her, speechless for a moment—he had forgotten how beautiful she was. Then he said, “Since we are to work together to solve this murder, why do you not call me Bell, to which I am more accustomed.”
She glanced back over her shoulder with an enchanting smile. “Very well. I like it.”
“Even though you do not like to answer the ring? Have you ever thought of pulling the bell cord within so that the bell cannot be rung?”
She laughed. “Many times, I assure you, but I am running a business, not playing games when I choose. I cannot afford to turn away custom or to annoy clients who wish to be entertained at times other than their set appointments. The bishop favors my tenancy, but only while I pay my rent.”
When they were in the house, she gestured him toward the empty stools near the fire as she took her own place. Bell was aware of the weight of his purse against his thigh and he felt uncomfortable remembering how, after he promised himself he would not, he had gone to his chamber to get more money from his chest. He glanced at her, but she was looking intently at the strip of ribbon she was embroidering. He had the money. He could have her if he wanted her.
“You said you had news?” he asked hurriedly.
“Yes.” She looked up, seemed to make a decision and put aside the embroidery, clasping her hands in her lap. “Did you see the man who came in while you were in the stable?”
“Yes. I hope I was not supposed to look away. In fact, I know him.”