Magdalene sat back and looked at the design with considerable satisfaction. She lifted her eyes as she heard a man’s sharp, impatient voice telling Ella to be good and that he would see her again the next Tuesday, and then the closing of the back door. Ella had not named him BamBam for nothing. Doubtless she had been urging him to stay longer, but it did not matter; although impatient, as usual, he seemed flattered, not angry.
Ella should now clean herself and straighten her room, but sometimes she forgot. Magdalene watched, saw the girl come back down the corridor, reenter her room. Magdalene’s eyes went back to her design. She would use a fine, blue-dyed canvas for the background, she thought; she had seen just the right kind of cloth in the shop of the mercer across the way, too costly to buy on speculation, but now that she had a commission, she could please and profit her neighbor, too.
The bell at the gate interrupted her thoughts; this time she rose quickly, smiling. Ella would be ready for another client soon and would be delighted to serve him, since BamBam often left her unsatisfied. Magdalene again wondered why he bothered to pay two pence for Ella when he could get a common whore’s service for a farthing. He never wanted to linger and play, she thought, as she went to the gate, that perhaps he disliked the filth or the danger of the common stew. He had the right to do what he liked with his own money.
She opened the gate, then gripped it tight. Another stranger! She did not recognize the man holding a dusty, tired-looking horse. “Yes, my lord?” she said, polite but distant.
“I have a friend in the Bishop of Winchester’s Household who told me that I could get lodging for the night and most excellent entertainment at this house.”
Magdalene raised her brows and let the man see she was examining him carefully. She did not remember ever having a client recommended by the bishop. No, not the bishop. He had said a “friend” in the Household, not the bishop himself. Most of the bishop’s men were as abstemious as he himself was, but there were a few who were not, and one who was an infrequent and very shamefaced client. He could have…and there was Bell. Would Bell send her a client?
The man’s voice was cultured, his French the kind spoken most commonly among the gentlefolk of England; his clothing was badly travel-stained but of good quality, and the sword belted around his hips had a hilt that glittered with gems on pommel and guards. Behind his high saddle was a thick, heavy roll, covered by oiled leather, that Magdalene guessed was his mail hauberk. Almost certainly a knight, and not poor. But where were his shield and helmet? If he had a place to leave those, why did he ask for lodging?
“Did your friend also tell you that your lodging and entertainment would be costly?” Magdalene asked.
“The cost is irrelevant,” he said, but he looked over his shoulder at the road—at the mercer, who was watching from behind his counter, and at several men and women waiting to be served by the grocer, who had also turned to look. Suddenly he stepped forward, forcing Magdalene away from the gate. “Forgive me,” he said quickly, “but I would just as soon not be stared at while entering your house.”
“My price for lodging and a bed partner is five pence,” Magdalene said, “and payment is taken in advance. An evening meal and breakfast are included if you desire them. There will also be shelter and fodder for your horse in our stable, but you will have to care for the animal yourself. I have no groom.”
“You certainly do not try to entice a visitor,” the man said, sounding offended.
“This is not a common stew,” Magdalene replied without warmth. “We entice no one. To speak the truth, we have all the custom we need….” She left the words hanging and glanced at the still-open gate.
Quite deliberately the man pulled his horse through and shut the gate. “My friend will be annoyed if he learns I have been turned away and must ride back to London to find lodging. I have other friends, too—” He fell silent abruptly, apparently seeing from her expression that far from being intimidated, she was about to order him out and call for help. “Wait.” He smiled and held up a placating hand. “I am willing to pay.”
Draping the horse’s rein over his arm, he pulled open his purse and poured some coins out into his hand. Since Magdalene suspected he would not obey her, and at the moment she had no way to enforce her order, she did not bid him go. And then she saw among the coins a heavy ring, and a bicolored ribbon, red and probably white, although that was so dirty it looked gray, attached to a badge.