“You need not worry,” Sabina said, her voice harder than Magdalene had ever heard it. “I remember what he said he would do to you.”
Now Magdalene was afraid Sabina would hit too hard. “Threats, love, threats. Do not kill him, either. It is a terrible nuisance to get rid of a body.” But what if the blind girl missed? Then an idea came that would solve both problems. “Ah, wait. I will just tie his hands with his own cross garters and stick a sock in his mouth to gag him.”
Having done as she said, Magdalene listened at Letice’s door. All was quiet. Seemingly, Letice and her client had slept through any disturbance. She breathed a prayer of thanks that Letice’s bed was on the far side of the chamber and went on. In the common room, Ella had apparently been unrolling and rerolling strips of ribbon from a stock Magdalene kept. Three strips were lying on the table, and Ella was just replacing a fourth in the basket.
“Come with me, pet,” Magdalene said. “I need you to help me.” She shepherded Ella into Sabina’s room, where the girl stopped just inside the door, mouth and eyes wide. “He is not a nice man,” Magdalene assured Ella, pushing her forward. “He hit Sabina and knocked her down and threatened to cut off my nose and ears. Now we must dress him so I can take him to William, who will punish him for trying to hurt us.”
The trouble cleared from Ella’s face, and she nodded. She remembered a previous time, in Oxford, when the king had been holding court and a group of men-at-arms who had been turned away tried to break in. A neighbor had sent his apprentice to William of Ypres, who had come with his troop and mended the invaders’ manners so firmly that no other transgressions occurred.
Magdalene and Ella flipped the man over on his back and pulled on his braies, stockings, and shoes, since that could be done without untying him. Then Magdalene tied his feet together and tethered them to the bed so he could not kick. Thus hobbled, one of them could hit him on the head again before he could do any damage. Meanwhile, Sabina had untied his hands and dragged the bedrobe off him. Ella propped him up so Magdalene could pull on his shirt. He groaned and tried clumsily to seize her. Magdalene dropped the shirt, seized the pan from where Sabina had placed it on the bed and whacked him on the head again—just as the door opened.
“Magdalene!” Bell exclaimed.
“Didn’t hit ‘im hard enough,” Dulcie remarked. “He’ll be stirrin’ again ‘n no time.”
“Hush!” Magdalene exclaimed, signaling for silence and keeping her own voice low. And then to Dulcie, “Thank goodness you are here.” She handed Dulcie the pan. “Help Ella and Sabina get his clothing back on,” She turned on Bell. “What took you so long? If you had come at once, things might not have gone so far.”
That was not true, of course. Once Magdalene was sure that their unwelcome guest had come from a powerful master interested in the papal messenger, she had determined that the best place for him was in William of Ypres’s hands. One way or another, she would have got him there; possibly force would have been needed anyway, but if Bell had come sooner, she might have been saved some terrifying moments.
“What the devil do you mean, what took me so long? I was in a cookshop eating a very late dinner since I had been at St. Paul’s and all over London this afternoon. Dulcie had to find me, and I could scarcely run as I was to your house when Dulcie implied there was danger. I had to arm and get my horse. Who the hell is this?”
Magdalene glanced down at her women, who had tied the man’s shirt and were maneuvering his tunic over his head. She drew Bell out of the room, closing the door behind her, and led him to the common room, where she gestured to the benches around the table. Flipping the tails of his hauberk out of the way with a practiced air, he sat down. Magdalene sat across the corner of the table.
She pushed the ribbons Ella had left on the table to one side and said, “I have no idea. He came to the gate saying a friend in the Bishop of Winchester’s Household had recommended my house as a place to find lodging and entertainment.”
“A friend in Winchester’s Household?” Bell echoed, evidently astonished, then signed for her to continue.
“I knew at once something was wrong. No one from the bishop’s Household has ever sent us a client. It is understood that there is to be a separation. I pay my rent, and usually that is our only contact. I tried to warn him off by saying that we were expensive but he pushed his way in and threatened that his ‘friend’ would be angry if I did not let him stay. That was when I sent Dulcie for you.”
Bell grunted. “Even if he was not welcome, surely you did not need to knock the man unconscious.”
“Did I not?” Magdalene explained what had happened.
“I see,” Bell said, his voice thick with controlled anger. “So he knew about Baldassare and the pouch. From whom? And what master?”