“You bemused them. You cast an evil glamour—”
“Hush, Brother Paulinus,” the prior said, coming around his desk and putting his hand on the distraught sacristan’s arm. “You are beside yourself with worry. I am sure it is not through any neglect of yours that the pyx is missing. Just calm yourself.” Then he turned to Magdalene. “Did you say you were with Sir Bellamy? How is he involved in this?”
“He was bidden by the bishop to discover, if he could, who had killed Messer Baldassare and what had happened to the pouch Messer Baldassare was carrying.”
“I was blamed for that, too,” the sacristan burst out. “Sir Bellamy accused me of not sending word to the bishop about the murder, but this priory owes no obedience to the bishop. I sent word to the abbot. Now the pyx is gone—”
The prior was looking desperately confused, and Magdalene said, “I told the bishop a man had been killed on the church porch when I went to speak to him on Friday morning. He was distressed by the news and by the fact that he had to hear it from me, particularly when he learned that the victim was Messer Baldassare, a papal messenger. He then ordered his knight, Sir Bellamy, to discover the identity of the killer.”
“He need not look very far if he will only look honestly,” the sacristan spat. “And I will insist a search for the pyx be made in your premises.”
“You may search and welcome,” Magdalene said, laughing. “Sir Bellamy all but scratched the dirt out between the boards of the floors when he searched on Friday.”
“He searched your house? Why?” Father Benin asked.
“He was looking for Master Baldassare’s pouch. I had seen it under his cloak, although I had not seen it clearly because he had thrust it to the back. But the pouch was not found with the body. The bishop wondered if Messer Baldassare had hidden the pouch in my house because he did not trust the person he was supposed to meet. And since the bishop is sure that Messer Baldassare had come with important documents from the pope, he is eager that Sir Bellamy find the pouch if he can.”
“I see. Well, I must say I am greatly relieved to learn that Sir Bellamy has been ordered to discover who committed this crime. I have found him to be honest and clever when he did the bishop’s work in the past.”
“He is not so honest now,” Brother Paulinus hissed. “He is bedazzled by this whore and his sole purpose is to remove any stigma from her. I tell you, she stole the pyx.”
The last idea Magdalene wanted fixed in the prior’s mind was that Bell was enamored of her. Better let him think about the missing pyx. “How did I steal it?” Magdalene cried. “Do I look strong enough to break open a safe box?”
“Your strength does not matter—the box was not broken open.”
Both Magdalene and Father Benin drew a sharp breath and turned to stare at the sacristan. Now Magdalene knew why he was acting like a madman. He had always been strongly opposed to having even so discreet a house of pleasure as hers adjoining the monastery and had always been more rigid about carnal sin than most. His effort to involve her and her women in the murder, once he learned that Baldassare had come through the back gate, was not really unreasonable; however, his insistence that she had stolen the pyx, which was impossible, was mad. But if the safe box had not been broken, someone who had the key must have stolen the pyx…and the person who held the key to the safe box was the sacristan.
“Oh, dear,” Magdalene whispered.
She did not like the sacristan. In his passionate desire for purity, Brother Paulinus could be cruel and, as she had seen when he struck Ella, violent. She could easily imagine him murdering Baldassare in some mistaken fit of righteousness; she could even imagine him blotting out the memory, or convincing himself that God had directed his act for the purpose of driving out the whores and their corruption. But what reason could Brother Paulinus possibly have for stealing the church plate? And she learned the answer in the next breath.
“It is not possible,” Father Benin had murmured simultaneously, and then, smiling wryly, said, “No, not even to repair the belfry roof. Even if you hold the key, Brother Paulinus, there must be another answer.”
“It cannot be the only key,” Magdalene said.
“Do not you dare defend me!” Brother Paulinus shouted. “Your evil purpose lies like a putrid glow over you. You—”
“Hush, Brother Sacristan,” Father Benin said. ‘The woman may be a sinner, but she means well in this. Why do you not go to my prie-dieu and say a prayer to calm yourself.”
That was not really a suggestion; no matter how gentle the voice, it was an order. And when the gaunt monk had walked to where the prior’s crucifix hung on the wall near his bed and knelt before it, the prior turned to Magdalene.