A Mortal Bane

“They are guilty of sin!”

 

“Yes, indeed, but not of murder. If they burn in hell for the sin of lust, I have no objection; they are guilty. The punishment will be God’s, and just. So far, I have no reason to think them guilty of murder—and I want to know who is. Thus, I still need the names of those who came to Compline service and did not stay the night.”

 

“None of those at Compline service could have done murder.”

 

“Perhaps not, but I must know who they are.”

 

“Oh, very well. There were only six…ah, no, seven. The servants who keep the small guesthouses that flank the bishop’s house, old Nicholas and Martha and Bernard and Elsa. They can barely walk, let alone strike down a man in his prime. That is four. Then two clerks from the bishop’s Household, Robert and Phillipe, which makes six.”

 

“Robert and Phillipe?”

 

Bell was momentarily distracted from the murder by a naughty notion. Phillipe was a very pretty, delicate young man. Robert was Guiscard’s chief rival for principal secretary. Was Phillipe far less innocent man he seemed? Did he hope to win promotion through Robert’s support by offering him friendship…or more than friendship? The porter’s voice jerked Bell’s mind back to murder.

 

“Yes.” Brother Porter nodded approvingly. “They come quite often, perhaps twice a week for the last half year whenever the bishop is in residence. And the seventh…I cannot bethink me of his name, but it will come back to me. I know him well. He was a student at the priory until a year ago and used to return every week or two. I had not seen him for several months and thought he must have obtained the preferment he was seeking when….”

 

Brother Godwine’s voice faded and a frown creased his brow as if some unpleasant thought had occurred to him, but when Bell asked what was troubling him, he shook his head and said he was not sure. Something was niggling his mind about that student, he admitted, but he could not make a clear memory.

 

“It will come back to me,” he assured Bell. “When I remember the boy’s name, I will remember what else is teasing my memory, too.”

 

Then Bell remembered something Magdalene had told him that pushed the relationship between Robert and Phillipe—if there was one—right out of his mind. “The name, it would not be Beaumeis, Richard de Beaumeis, would it?”

 

Brother Godwine’s eyes opened wide. “Yes, yes, that is who it was. However did you know? But now I remember, he came to the service at Vespers, not at Compline. Now why did I think he was at Compline? Did I see him there? No, no I did not. And I did not see seven in the nave, only six. Of course the nave is so dark, if he had been at the back….”

 

“Did you see him leave the priory after Vespers?”

 

Bell kept his voice flat, fighting against displaying any excitement. Beaumeis had traveled from Rome to England with Baldassare. He probably knew what Baldassare was carrying. He was part of the archbishop’s Household and might well wish to keep hidden or destroy the bull naming the Bishop of Winchester legate.

 

“No, I did not, but then I did not see anyone leave after Vespers. They were all gone by the time I was able to return to the gate. Brother Sacristan stopped me for a few words.” Brother Godwine’s lips thinned and pressed together. Then, as if he wished to divert Bell from whatever Brother Paulinus had said, the porter feigned interest and asked again, “How did you know that it was Beaumeis?”

 

Bell would have preferred that he had forgotten about the question, he did not want the porter to connect Beaumeis with the murder yet. For one thing, he was by no means sure that the coincidence meant anything; for another, he suspected that Brother Godwine would be far too likely to expose his suspicions if any were aroused.

 

“I knew he had been a student at the priory and that he had recently returned to England,” Bell said, skirting the truth, “so I thought he might come to visit his old school.”

 

“Yes, that was what he said, that he had been quite homesick for the old school.”

 

Brother Godwine frowned, and Bell, again suppressing a rising excitement, asked why.

 

The porter shrugged. “He did say that, I remember very well, but it seems to me that it was at another time. I told you, did I not, that he used to come every week or two. Perhaps it was one of the other times I spoke to him, because I know he came at Vespers, but it seems—”

 

Brother Godwine stopped speaking as a shadow darkened the open door of the little gatehouse. Both he and Bell looked up to see the prior’s secretary, who was staring at them with an expression of extreme surprise.

 

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