“Sir Bellamy,” Brother Fareman said, “I just came to ask Brother Godwine to watch for you and ask you to come and speak to Father Prior and here you are.”
Although he would have liked to hear the end of the porter’s sentence, Bell knew it was too late and rose without any reluctance. He hoped that Brother Godwine would continue to think about his meeting with Beaumeis and might have more to tell him later. Thus, he merely thanked Brother Godwine for his help and said he would be glad to see the prior.
Bell assumed that the prior wished to ask what progress he was making in finding the killer of the pope’s messenger. Since he felt he had at last discovered a likely suspect, he was eager to recapitulate the evidence to an intelligent and impartial listener. He hoped that the prior would find as significant as he did the question of why Beaumeis was in the priory at Vespers when he had told Buchuinte that he was leaving for Canterbury immediately and could not stay for dinner. He also hoped the prior would be able to tell him something of Beaumeis’s character. Surely he would know the man better than Magdalene, who seemed to doubt that Beaumeis could be the killer.
He was considerably disappointed when Father Benin listened to him with a rather distracted air and said no more than, “You must find young Beaumeis and make him explain. I suspect he will have a good reason for being here and be able to clear himself. As to his character” —he sighed— “it was not what I would have wished for a churchman. He was clever enough, but also shallow, selfish, and lazy. It was shocking to me because he was nephew—sister’s son—to the abbot of St. Albans, who recommended him to our school and paid his fees.” He shook his head. “I would not like to think so ill of Richard. More likely the guilty one is among those of Magdalene’s clients who bear arms. How would Beaumeis know where to stab a man?”
The fatal knife wound could have been an accident, Bell thought, but many of Magdalene’s clients were knights and some could be attached to the Empress Matilda’s party. Still, he would expect an accounting of every minute of Beaumeis’s time before forgetting that the man had traveled all the way from Rome with Baldassare. All the way from Rome? And never found an opportunity to steal the bull or murder his companion? The journey together was something Bell had not considered.
“It is most worrisome,” Father Benin said, and Bell realized the prior had been telling him something he had not taken in.
“I am sorry—” he began.
“Oh, please do not say that Brother Paulinus must be the thief because he was the only one who had a key to the safe box. Sometimes Brother Paulinus can be difficult—even violent—because of his strong convictions, but I cannot believe he would steal from the church.”
Bell blinked. “Steal from the church? For what purpose? Not for luxurious living. What did you say was stolen? I am afraid I was still thinking about the murder.”
Father Benin, who was as much troubled by the theft of the pyx because of the shadow it cast on Brother Paulinus as by the death of Baldassare, told the story again willingly, repeating in a voice that now trembled with doubt how impossible it was for the sacristan, even to repair his beloved buildings, to be guilty.
“And when did this theft take place?” Bell asked.
Father Benin sighed. “We do not really know. It would have to be after the plate was cleaned and inspected for the Sunday service last week and before it was again removed from the safe box yesterday.”
“It could have been stolen Wednesday night, then?”
“The same night as the murder? Would that not be too much of a coincidence?”
“If it was a coincidence at all,” Bell said.
Chapter Twelve
23 April 1139
Old Priory Guesthouse
“That Brother Patric be a nice boy,” Dulcie said as she brought in a large bowl of porridge and began to serve it into smaller bowls. “He said he be sorry I had t’ walk so far t’ attend th’ service this mornin’ ‘stead o’ just coming across th’ back like I did before.”
Magdalene waited until Dulcie’s eyes came to her face and said slowly and loudly, “Most of the monks do not blame you for our sins. They know one must work to eat.” She saw Dulcie nod, to indicate that she had understood, and went on. “That was why I said you must go to Mass. You are still a good daughter of the Church, not excommunicate. If you swear under oath we were all here when Baldassare was murdered, they must accept your word.”