“I explained all that to you,” the sacristan said; then, turning on Magdalene again, he shouted, “You filthy whore, how dare you come here and spew your lies into the holy father’s ear?”
“I told him no lies.” That was true enough, Magdalene reassured herself. She had been very careful what she said to Father Benin. She had left out quite a bit, but told no lies. She met the sacristan’s furious gaze steadily and added, “You are correct in one thing at least, that I would never dare lie to Father Prior. Even a whore can tell the truth when it is to her advantage, and the more truth that is known about Messer Baldassare’s death, the safer I will be. I deal in the joys of life, never in death.”
“The death of the soul is the fruit of your joy!” He turned from her to the prior and said, “How can you allow that whore to contaminate your private chamber—”
From the mingled expressions of chagrin and impatience, just tinged with shame, that Magdalene saw flit across the prior’s face, she suddenly realized why she had been taken to his private chamber instead of being interviewed in the room devoted to business below. Father Benin had hoped Brother Paulinus would not know she had been invited to explain.
Magdalene laughed, knowing it would infuriate the sacristan and hoping to draw his attention to give the prior time to gather his forces. “Rest at ease, Brother Paulinus,” she said. “Whoredom is not something you can breathe in and catch like a fever from the night air. Unless you desire it and seek it out, it will not touch you.”
“Me?” Brother Paulinus bellowed, raising his hand.
“Nay, Brother Paulinus,” the prior said sharply. “Even with such as she, we do not practice violence.” His countenance once more placid, Father Benin shook his head at her and she bowed hers in response. He turned to the sacristan again. “Magdalene is in my solar to keep her out of the way of the younger brothers, who often come to my secretary with problems.” He smiled slightly. “At my age, I hope I am safe from her no matter where I choose to speak with her. Now, what is this about the small golden pyx being stolen? Are you sure it is missing, Brother Sacristan? It was very small and never used. Could it not have slipped back into the dark, or even into another of the vessels?”
“Of course I am sure. As you know, usually we clean the church plate on Friday so that it will be perfect for Sunday, but we have been all turned around by Brother Knud being questioned, so the work was not completed Friday. Today, when Brother Knud was about to finish that task, something moved me to examine the safe box, and I counted over every piece. The pyx was gone.” His face contorted as if he were about to burst into tears. “I have failed my trust. And” —he whirled about and glared at Magdalene— “it is her fault. She stole it!”
“Paulinus!” The prior got to his feet. “How can that be true? How could she steal the pyx out of a locked chest?”
“Who else could do it? Is she not a whore? Does not the foul sin she commits corrupt the whole being of those who engage in its evil practices? Is this not proof that the whores murdered the pope’s messenger?”
“Proof?” Magdalene cried. “What has a stolen pyx to do with Messer Baldassare’s death?”
“Who else but a whore and a murderess would dare steal from the church, from the storage closet beneath the very altar itself? Indeed that must be why you killed him. He must have seen you stealing the pyx.”
“Father Benin,” Magdalene protested, “this is madness. I never left my house the night Messer Baldassare was killed. My women and I were together after Vespers. My maid, who is not a whore, not excommunicate, and a faithful daughter of the church, will attest to that.”
Dulcie would not have to lie, she told herself. They had all been together after Vespers, and had remained so until Sabina went to bed with Baldassare, but he was certainly lively enough then. And she had not left the house after he did.
“And after Thursday morning,” Magdalene continued before either the sacristan or the prior could speak, “the gate between the church and the Old Guesthouse was locked, so I could not come into the priory grounds unseen. You may ask your porter if I passed the gate since then—”
“You did, you lying whore. You were here yesterday.”
Magdalene blinked, for a moment terrified by the notion that Brother Paulinus had suborned the porter or one of his assistants to say she had entered the monastery—and then she remembered and smiled. “Yes, I was. I came with Sir Bellamy of Itchen, the bishop’s knight, to look at the dead man to see if I recognized him, which I did, and so did Sir Bellamy. But Brother Paulinus, I was in his presence and that of Brother Porter the whole time. Are you trying to say that Sir Bellamy and Brother Godwine either ignored me or watched me break open the safe box and take out the pyx?”