Chains of Folly

by Roberta Gellis

  Bell’s jaw clamped tight again. What he wanted to do was cry out that he would protect her, but he knew that was ridiculous. William of Ypres might not be the king’s favorite any longer, but Stephen still needed him and would surely accommodate him in so small a thing as squashing Bell like a bug. And to offer Magdalene the bishop’s protection would be a dangerous lie. Doubtless there were things Winchester would be willing to do at his request, but to involve himself openly with a whore…

  There was a short, tight silence before Bell said, “So what more did Tom tell you that I needed to hear. We both knew that Nelda was a thief.”

  “That she did not sell her gleanings was interesting when coupled with the coins in her secret box. To me that spells extortion.”

  Bell sighed. “To me also. We will need to identify the owners of the rings and the seal.”

  “Moreover, Tom told me that Nelda is not the only tenant of the top floor. There is another whore, called Tayte, who lives in one room. He says Tayte is very quiet and the Watch has never been summoned by her or because of her. I will undertake to talk to Tayte. If she does not respond to a few coins, you can take over.”

  “What about the shop below?”

  Magdalene shook her head. “Tom says the woman who keeps it is blind and deaf always to everything, not to be moved by coin or by threats. He thinks she is very much afraid of something or someone, but has no idea who or what inspires the fear. He thought real torture might—”

  “I do not think the matter of what she saw or heard is important enough for that.” Bell’s mouth was tight with distaste and he shook himself as a dog does to free itself from water in an attempt to rid himself of the memory of questioning the men who had attacked the bishop. “However,” he added quickly, “her fear is also interesting. Perhaps I will set a man or two to watching the shop. And now—” he bent and lifted the bench he had overturned into position “—it is time for me—”

  The bell at the gate rang clamorously. Magdalene jerked and bit her lip. “Good God,” she whispered, coming to her feet, “I forgot to lock it.”

  Bell already had his sword belted on and he followed a step or two behind Magdalene. The bell rang again, pulled so hard that it nearly sprang from the arm that held it.

  “Be gone!” Magdalene called, hurrying to the gate. “It is Sunday night. We do no business on Sunday.”

  As she spoke, she reached for the bar that could fix the gate closed against anything less forceful than a battering ram. It was just out of her grasp, and she stepped sideways to seize it, which was lucky, because the gate sprang open under a forceful push, blocking Bell momentarily. A man stinking of sour wine and vomit staggered in.

  “Who do you think you are to set times?” he bellowed, gazing around muzzily, until his gaze finally found Magdalene. “Filthy whore!” He turned toward her, knife out. “You and your kind will spread your legs when we—Aieee!”

  Magdalene had swung the gate bar and caught him on the shoulder. The knife dropped from his hand and he staggered back. She swung again, this time catching him on the side of the head. He went down, just as two more men staggered through the open gate. Magdalene lifted the bar again, but Bell had already come around and tapped both with the flat of his sword. One had flown back out of the gate; the other was lying on the ground spitting out blood and broken teeth.

  Bell stepped out of the gate and looked at the three men who had drawn swords and were about to rush in. “Pick up your offal and get out,” he said. One stepped forward, and Bell knocked the sword out of his hand. “Next man who waves a sword at me loses his sword hand,” he said. “Put your weapons away and remove the two pieces of garbage from the gate. I give you a quarter candlemark to be—”

  “No, Letice! Don’t cut his throat!” Magdalene’s voice was high and urgent.

  Bell stepped sideways away from the gate. His principal attention was still on the three men, who paused in sheathing their weapons to stare through the opening at Letice. Magdalene had a grip on her arm and was preventing her from stooping over the man Magdalene had felled. A long, wickedly curved knife—almost a scimitar— was reaching toward the man, who was starting to move.

  Unable to resist. Bell grinned. He was not certain whether that was a bit of play-acting to convince the drunken group that the Old Priory Guesthouse was not a safe place to invade by force or whether Letice had intended to cut the man’s throat. Now he stepped sideways and gestured with his sword.

  Somewhat sobered by what had happened and watching Bell nervously the three entered the gate. They did not escape unscathed. Dulcie swung her fry-pan at the one who bent to help up the man Letice had threatened. She hit him on the behind with such force that he screeched as he flew over his comrade’s head and fell face first in the dirt. But when he jumped up, yelling, Diot prodded him, just beyond his kidney, ungently, with the knife in her hand.

  “Pick up that filth and get it out of here,” she snarled, “or I will hold you down while Letice gelds you.”

  At which remark, Letice smiled and rotated the hooked tip of her blade suggestively. Bell stepped a little farther from the gate to give the men room, watched them as they picked up their damaged companions, and staggered north toward the river. He thought briefly of following them and pushing them in but then shrugged and came inside.

  “I am so sorry we were slow in coming,” Diot was saying as Magdalene put the bar into its sockets and hooked up the chain for good measure. “Letice and I were both undressed so that Ella could fit the gown to Letice and see if there would be enough silk for me to use. When we heard the noise, Letice went to get Dulcie and I had to get Ella into her room.”

  “It is my own fault,” Magdalene said, sighing. Her hands were trembling and she knotted them together. “Tom told me when he left to lock up after him, but instead of hooking up the chain—

  “Yes,” Bell said, “and so you should have done, but you never had a chain on the gate before. Why is Tom staying here? What happened in the weeks Magdalene was gone?”

  “It was Father Etienne’s idea,” Diot said, as they all walked toward the house.

  “Who is Father Etienne?” Bell asked.

  “He is the clerk Lord William sent to help us if there was any trouble while Magdalene was gone. At first I was a little hesitant, thinking the chain might give clients the wrong impression atop having Tom sleep in the stable because his lodging burnt down, but Father Etienne said that with all the great men out of the city there might be some disorder. And he was right. We had several drunken groups who tried to force their way in.”

  “This place is not marked as a house of ease. How did they know?” Bell asked.

  Diot’s eyes widened, “I never thought. Someone had to tell them. Apurpose? But why?”

  “Not necessarily apurpose for ill,” Magdalene pointed out, her lips twisting wryly. “I am sure some mention disporting themselves at the Old Priory Guesthouse as a boast or innocently to praise the entertainment here.”

  “Not so innocently,” Bell said, but he looked relieved.

  Diot shrugged. “The chain prevented them from all rushing in together, and Tom was able to reach through the opening and prod them away with his sword.” Then she nodded, also looking relieved. “They could not have come deliberately to do harm or they would have made a stronger effort. I do believe they were armsmen looking for a good time and annoyed not to be welcomed.”

  Bell nodded unhappily. “I would not be surprised if some were Salisbury’s men, put out of the castles the king is taking. Winchester is hiring those he can, but—”

  “He had better be careful,” Magdalene interrupted sharply. “To hire Salisbury’s men atop this call for a convocation will not endear the bishop to his brother.”

  “No.” Bell sighed. “But he is so very angry. He does not show it much, but he is really furious. I spoke privately to the knights he set to the task of hiring the displaced men-at-arms and urged them not to spread abroad that it was Henry of Winchester
who was hiring. They are doing their best, I believe.”

  They entered the house and shut the door behind them. Bell looked around at the neat room, at Magdalene’s large embroidery frame, at the workbaskets set beside the stools near the hearth. He imagined everything overturned and trodden underfoot, wine spilled, perhaps lamps and candles overturned and setting the rushes ablaze.

  He closed his eyes, reopened them. It was not his business. Let her beloved William protect her. He started to turn toward the door. Magdalene put a hand on his arm. He could feel it shaking.

  “Don’t go, Bell,” she said. “Stay this night at least.”

  Letice also put a hand on his arm. Her knife had disappeared and her black eyes looked huge in her dark face.

  “We would be much easier if you would stay,” Diot said. “There is a small chance that those men will seek support and come back for revenge.”

  Ella opened the door of her room and peered out, her cheeks tear streaked. When she saw Bell in the middle of the group of women, she ran to join them. “You will not leave me to be beaten,” she wept. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “No, love,” Bell said, unable to resist response to the fearful child. “You did just right by going to your room.”

  “But I cannot go back now,” Ella whimpered. “I could hear the men shouting. I could not sleep. I would have fearful dreams. And I cannot even sew. Look at how my hands shake.” She held out her small, plump hands, and they were trembling, “Dear Bell, will you not play a game with me so that I can forget the banging and shouting?”

  “I do not think that we are in the right mood for playing games,” Magdalene said, “but I have had sent to me from France a tale of love and adventure. You have a fine rich voice, Bell. Will you read to us of ‘Aucassin and Nicolette’?”

  “You will read us a story!” Ella exclaimed breathlessly and ran into her chamber to bring out a prized possession—in fact a gift that had been sent by Master Gerome—a stool with a soft leather pillow fixed atop.

  Then she plumped herself down on her own stool and folded her hands into her lap, bright, empty eyes fixed on Bell in happy expectation. Magdalene slipped away to her chamber to get the scroll. From the corner of his eye as he looked at the stool, Bell saw Dulcie coming from the kitchen and going into the empty room beyond Diot’s. She was carrying linens for the bed, a pillow, and a blanket.

  Bell thought of the clean, quiet chamber, the sturdy, comfortable cot with its stuffed mattress, the warmth of the soft blanket; then he thought of his bed in the bishop’s house—the pallet on the floor, the snoring or quarreling men, the sound of dice rolling, shouts and cursing. Bell sighed and unbuckled his sword belt.

  Chapter 7

  Magdalene broke her fast on Monday morning in the very best of spirits. She knew that Bell was long gone, which was just as it should be. He would be in good time for all to be ready when the bishop wished to leave. He would not feel rushed or guilty or that there was any inconvenience in lodging at the Old Priory Guesthouse.

  Dulcie told her, speaking English instead of the French she seldom used, that Bell had wakened her at dawn to lock the gate behind him and she had brought him ale and bread and cheese and a piece of pasty for breaking his fast. While he ate Dulcie had asked, as if it was the most ordinary question in the world, whether he would be with them for dinner and the evening meal.

  “Not for dinner,” he had said, without the smallest hesitation, Dulcie reported. He would be busy with the bishop all day. And if he were dismissed early, he would ride over to the Tower to discover who the big man who wore Mandeville’s badge was. As for the evening meal… There he had hesitated, but only as if he were considering what he would be doing, not as if he was reconsidering staying with them.

  “He’ll be here till the bishop goes back to Winchester for the convocation,” Dulcie said, somehow her flat, deaf-woman’s voice conveying great satisfaction. “Should I go over to the bishop’s house and fetch his clothes?”

  Magdalene giggled. “I think that would be going too far without his permission,” she said in English. “But you can ask him, all innocent like, which clothes he wants you to bring in case he comes in armor and would want to change.” She spoke slowly, not too loud, but saying each word separate from the others, which she had discovered Dulcie heard best.

  “Load off n m’mind him bein’ here. That Tom means well, but he’s nothin’.” She looked at the table. “Had what y’wanted? You goin’ out?”

  “Yes. To the East Chepe to see if I can sell some embroidery. Is there something you want me to buy?”

  “Dill. And rice. And saffron. Nothin’ that’ll mess your clothes. I’ll get a haunch’v mutton myself. Need a bit extra. The man’s got an appetite.”

  Magdalene laughed at Dulcie’s pleasure. The maid was a good cook and liked nothing better than to see the meals she prepared devoured. She left the table and went to a shelf to the left of the doorway, where she took down a smooth-woven basket. Into it she put a clean muslin cloth and then several ribbons embroidered by Ella, who was developing into quite a seamstress, a square picture done by Diot, and a sleeve cuff which she had been doing for Bell but had left unfinished.

  After a moment of consideration, she took one of the bands Letice had done, all intricate curving lines without any bird or beast or human form. Having tucked it down at the bottom, she covered the basket with a plain cloth and went to her room for her veil.

  The bridge was its usual self, full of merchants and customers. There were fewer peddlers selling foodstuffs to eat because it was too late for fast breaking and too early for nooning. In any case, Magdalene did not hesitate over any ware, no matter how attractive apprentice or journeyman tried to make it sound. One did not carry odd items one had bought when trying to engage a client.

  She walked as usual up Gracechurch Street rather than Fish Street to save her clothing and shoes from taint, then turned right into the East Chepe until she came to Mainard’s saddlery. Henry had already backed away from the counter to make room for Magdalene to pass, but she smiled at him and shook her head.

  “No, I don’t want to come in, Henry. If I have time, I will stop on my way back. I presume all is well with Sabina and Mainard?”

  “Yes, indeed, Mistress Magdalene.” Henry laughed. “Sabina was singing yesterday afternoon and came home not only with a substantial gift over and above her fee but with the son of the household trailing along behind. Haesel said he had sneaked out and followed them. He did not believe a singer could be virtuous.”

  “Oh, dear, I hope Sabina did not thwack him with her staff.”

  “No, she would not attack the son of a client, and Haesel was with her. But it all worked to her benefit. He was a very pretty young man and she had told him several times that she was married. He did not believe her until she flung herself into Master Mainard’s arms. Then, taking in the size of Master Mainard—although Mainard of course made no threatening gesture—the fool went away. And Master Mainard was so thrilled that she preferred him.”

  “Most wisely. I can see Mainard’s face, which Sabina cannot, and I, too, would prefer Mainard to a pretty-faced boy. But what I came for, Henry, was to ask if you know where I could find a mercer called Master Rhyton of Guildford. I understand he is recently come to London.”

  “That is a really easy question to answer. It is Master Rhyton who has purchased the Lime Street house and taken Josne’s shop on the corner of Botolph.”

  “Ah, thank you Henry. How convenient that I do not need to pass the shop before I come to the house. I really wish to speak to Mistress Claresta and see if I can sell her some of my embroidery.”

  “You should have no trouble. Best of everything is what Master Rhyton wants and from what I’ve heard he can well afford it. It was said he nearly owned Guildford by the time he left. Came to London to look for a lord for Mistress Claresta so his grandsons will be noble.”

  “And she? Is she looking for a lord also?”

  He
nry shrugged, but a customer approached the counter and Magdalene waved Mainard’s salesman away and walked to the next shop. She was welcomed there also, and passed at once beyond the counter into the shop where Perekin FitzRevery rose to greet her.

  “I need a favor. Master FitzRevery,” Magdalene said.

  “You have it,” the mercer replied without hesitation.

  Magdalene laughed. “How trusting you are to agree without knowing to what. But this will do you no harm. I only want to be able to say that I heard of Master Rhyton of Guildford’s daughter Claresta’s forthcoming betrothal from you or your daughter.”

  “That is hardly a favor,” FitzRevery said, smiling. “You could have heard it anywhere in the Chepe. Rhyton has been telling the ‘secret’ of his negotiations with Sir Linley of Godalming in a loud whisper to anyone who would listen. I think Mainard must have been the first to have heard, and since I was next door, I heard next.”

  Laughing again, Magdalene said, “And I was just talking to Henry. He could have told me and I would not have needed to trouble you.”

  “It is no trouble. Always a pleasure to see you, Magdalene, since I have no womenfolk at all to disapprove.” Then suddenly his grin changed to a frown. “But when I told the news to my daughter, thinking she would be all atwitter, she was not happy over it. She said that Rhyton is making a mistake. Claresta is not the kind who wishes to be mistress of a landed estate.”

  “Ah, then it was not the daughter who urged the marriage?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Does she dislike Sir Linley?”

  FitzRevery shrugged. “I have no idea. My daughter said nothing of that, only that Claresta was very much a mercer’s daughter. Interested in the business. She is all her father has, and he often took her with him when he went to buy and talked to her about the goods as if she were a son.”

  “Ah well, if she has a lively mind, no doubt she can become interested in the working of her husband’s manors. But I had no idea the news was all over the Chepe. I had hoped to sell her some of my embroideries for her marriage chest, but I may no longer be alone in my offer. Still, I had better go along and see her.”