He stopped briefly at the Old Priory Guesthouse, but Magdalene had just left. In fact, Diot was surprised he had not met her on the bridge; however, the bridge was always so crowded that it was easy to miss people, and everyone had pressed back, away from the center, to give his mounted troop room to pass.
As he mounted. Bell considered sending his men back to the bishop’s house and following Magdalene immediately. Then he imagined having to leave Monseigneur in the street where some fool would surely have approached the valuable horse and been maimed or killed. Monseigneur did not take kindly to unknown persons trying to touch him when he was saddled. Besides that, the effect of his entering Rhyton’s house in full armor would doubtless have set everyone on edge. Moreover, he did not really believe that Linley would attack Magdalene in the house of his betrothed.
The servants were not likely to be of any help, but surely Linley would not want them as witness. As long as he arrived before Magdalene left the house so that Linley could not follow her, she would be safe. Bell touched Monseigneur with his heel. It would do no harm to take the time to change his clothing and walk back to the Lime Street house.
Chapter 17
By the time Magdalene had broken her fast and was ready to leave, the clouds had partially cleared and fitful sunshine was drying the damp from the streets. She paused at the gate, hearing Dulcie put the chain into place, and looked north toward the bridge but there was no sign of Bell, Shrugging mentally, she made sure her veil was firmly in place, and set out. She carried an empty basket for any small thing that caught her eye.
Her tale to Claresta would be that she had decided to do some shopping in the East Chepe and, since she was going to be so close to the Lime Street house, had brought the cuffs with the running hounds design that Claresta had admired. If Claresta purchased them, that would be fine. If Claresta did not want them, Magdalene would say she had lost nothing beyond a few extra steps and a little time.
The door of Rhyton’s house opened so promptly that Magdalene had not completely lowered her hand from knocking. And the expression of disappointment on Jean’s face was eloquent.
“Who were you expecting?” Magdalene asked, smiling.
At that moment a man’s voice, loud and angry, came from the open door into the common room.
“Where is he? You said he would be here today.”
Claresta’s response was also louder than she usually spoke, but annoyed not frightened. “I said he probably would be here today. I told you yesterday that Sir Linley had ridden to Godalming for his father to approve some changes my father desired in the marriage contract. Usually he does his business with his father when he arrives, spends the night, and then he rides back to London the next day. I assumed he would come this morning to speak to my father—but that would be at his place of business. Why did you not seek him there?”
“Because what I have to say to him needs privacy, not the bustle of a busy shop.”
Wide-eyed, while Claresta was replying, Magdalene had whispered “Who?” to Jean.
“He said his name was Sir John and that he was a friend of Sir Linley.” Jean’s very low voice trembled.
“Oh.” Magdalene bit her lip with chagrin. She could not go in and confront Sir John. Unfortunately he knew her all too well as the whoremistress of the Old Priory Guesthouse. “I would rather not interrupt,” she said to Jean. “Let me stand by the door to the kitchen.” And as she followed Jean to the back of the house, she remembered the expression on the servant’s face when he saw her at the front door, and asked softly, “But who did you expect when I knocked?”
“Master Spencer had some business with Mistress Claresta that he could not finish yesterday before he had to return to close the shop for Master Rhyton. He said he would come back this morning.” He hesitated as Sir John’s voice came to them saying he needed privacy and then whispered, “Mistress Magdalene what am I to do? He should not shout at Mistress Claresta, but…but she has not summoned me, and…”
Before Jean could finish his sentence or Magdalene reply to it, Claresta showed she needed no assistance. Clear and cold, her voice high with anger, she gave Sir John as good as he had tried to give her.
“If you do not moderate your tone to me, Sir John, you can have your privacy out in the street. I am not yet the common wife of a baron whom you can treat with contempt. I am an honorable burgher’s daughter, and I will not be shouted at in my own home.”
A low mumble so choked with rage that at first Magdalene could make out no words came in response. However, soon, loud and aggressive again Magdalene heard Sir John say that Linley had caused him great harm.
“That is between you and Sir Linley,” Claresta snapped, but she was no longer so angry and there was a decided note of interest in her voice, as she added, “If it is so very important, why do you not sit down and wait for him? I am sure he will be here sooner or later. Would you like some wine?”
Magdalene was sure that Claresta was about to ask in what way Linley had harmed Sir John, perhaps hoping that she would hear something so disreputable that she could still escape the unwanted marriage. But the door knocker sounded again. Jean hurried to answer it, and if Claresta spoke, the words were drowned in Jean’s eager recounting to Spencer of the unexpected guest Claresta had. The big journeyman hesitated, half turning to leave, but Jean, desperate for support in case Sir John turned nasty again, described the knight’s incivility.
“Shouted at Mistress Claresta!” Spencer growled. “We will see about that!” And he marched off into the common room.
“Oh, Spencer,” Claresta said, sounding less than overjoyed to see him. “Did you see Sir Linley at my father’s shop?”
“No, Mistress Claresta, but I did not come from the shop. I left soon after Prime to go, as you bade me, to Master Perekin FitzRevery about that heavy cloth you thought would do for the northern trade. I…ah…had to be careful what I said to him because—”
“You mean you don’t even know if Linley will come here at all?” Sir John interrupted furiously.
There was a very brief silence, as if Spencer started to reply, equally furiously, remembered himself and was now seeking for something to say. Claresta came to his support.
“Sir John was just about to tell me in what way Sir Linley had injured him,” she said.
And the knocker sounded again. Jean, who had remained near the door while Spencer marched into the common room, opened it. This time it was Linley.
“Oh, Sir Linley,” Jean said, somewhat more loudly than he usually spoke and quickly closed the door as if he wanted to prevent Linley’s escape. “Mistress Claresta is in the common room.”
It was just as well that he had closed the door, because Sir John erupted from the room, shouting, “Whoremongering bastard, where is my letter?”
Magdalene, watching from the shadows, thought that Sir Linley would have backed out of the door had it been open. But that, she judged, was only because of the violence in Sir John’s voice and gesture. Linley’s expression was totally dumbfound. To Magdalene it seemed plain enough that Linley had no idea what Sir John was raving about.
“Letter? What letter? Have you gone mad?”
“Your whore stole my letter and you killed her to get it. What have you done with it?”
Linley opened and closed his mouth rather like a fish gasping out of water, and Magdalene thought his face had gone pasty white but she could not be certain in the dim light with the door closed. But what he said was, “For God’s sake, Sir John. Watch what you say in the house of my betrothed. I have no idea what you are talking about. Go away now. I will meet you at the Cask of Wine—”
“Where all of Surrey’s men who are bound to support you will be? I want that letter. I want it now!”
Sir John seized Linley by the front of his tunic and dragged him forward, which was fortunate as the knocker sounded yet again. Half stunned, Jean did what was strong habit for him and opened the door. Bell’s massive form filled the doorway. He stepp
ed in, and without a word unfastened Sir John’s hand from Linley’s tunic and began to herd both men toward the common room.
Magdalene slipped out of the kitchen and followed, half concealed by Bell’s broad back. She lifted her veil to shield her face, but no one looked at her as she slid along the wall to stand in the shadow of some shelves holding handsome silver cups and plates.
Recovering somewhat from his shock, Linley turned on Sir John. “I do not know anything about any letter. I find it hard to believe that Nelda would have stolen a letter. She could not read. A letter would be of no value to her. How would she know it was important to anyone?”
“Because you would have told her!” Sir John bellowed. “Because you would have bidden her search each man you brought to her for Gloucester’s seal or Salisbury’s or his son’s or nephews’ and Winchester’s too.”
“You are mad!” Linley exclaimed, but faintly.
Magdalene thought he looked slightly frightened as if he might have mentioned—not a specific letter, but his interest in any information about Gloucester. From what he had said about Nelda in the past, Linley found her clever and an easy person to talk to.
In the shadow of the shelves, Magdalene nodded. It was not at all uncommon for a man to discuss what was uppermost in his thoughts in pillow talk. Linley might indeed have told Nelda how valuable it would be to him to lay hands on any proof of a connection between Gloucester and those the king wished to call enemies.
“Mad, am I?” Sir John snarled. “You tried to get the letter from her and she refused to give it to you. You tried to take it by force. She fought you and you threw her down the stair. You even tried to make me believe I killed her—”
“You drunken, drugged sot,” Linley shrieked, pale and sweating. “I was not even there that night. You cannot prove I was there. I was here, and I drank too much of Rhyton’s wine so that he bade me go, but I wanted more and went to the Cask of Wine. They will tell you there how I came in drunk and fell insensible—
“You were not there?” Sir John gasped, outraged. “Who woke me? Who told me that Nelda was dead? Who, in God’s name, convinced me to move her body to the bishop of Winchester’s house?”
“I did not,” Linley screamed. “No one saw me. You cannot prove I was there! It was you inside the bishop’s house.”
“Yes, you puling coward. You left all the labor to me, and you even deserted me, ran away and left me there.”
“I was never there!”
While the two went again and again through “You were,” “I wasn’t,” Magdalene went softly out and brought Jean to the entrance to the room. She had told him that he must speak the truth, that Mistress Claresta would be very pleased with him if he spoke the truth, and that Sir Bellamy would protect him from everyone else.
“Two witnesses are necessary,” Magdalene said, breaking into another exchange of accusation and denial. Linley and Sir John gaped at her, shocked into silence.
“Jean was in the house that night. It is his responsibility to lock the doors after guests, if there are any, are gone and the family is abed. Some time ago Mistress Claresta told me that she went to bed after her father and Sir Linley began to drink their wine and did not know when Sir Linley departed. However, Jean must know—”
“Jean will be out in the street naked after I am the master of this household if he knows too much,” Linley said threateningly.
“And he will be out in the street immediately if he does not tell the truth, whatever it is,” Claresta said from where she stood beside the silent but glowering Spencer. “And I will stand witness of your threat to him. So will Spencer.”
Magdalene patted Jean’s arm. “Do not be afraid. Just speak the truth. We will all stand witness to what you say.”
Not that Magdalene could stand witness to anything, since she was a whore and excommunicate and unable to swear an oath. However, Jean knew and trusted her and knew she would speak for him to Master Mainard, who was nearly his god, so it was the best thing to say to reassure him.
Jean swallowed hard. “When Mistress Claresta went up to bed, she bade me wait by the door for any order from Master Rhyton. Mistress Claresta is always careful that her servants understand what is needed so we will not be blamed for what is not our fault. I saw Master Rhyton start to rise, perhaps to call me to bring another flagon of wine, but he nearly fell. He said then that he had had enough. I saw Sir Linley to the door and locked it behind him and then helped Master Rhyton up the stairs to his bed.”
“And the time?” Bell asked, blocking a movement by Linley with his body; his voice was softer than usual, calm. Bell had known Jean when he was so starved and constantly beaten that he was reduced nearly to idiocy by fear.
“A little after Complin,” Jean whispered. “I heard the bells. I was tired and I wondered when Sir Linley would leave so I could go to bed.”
“Thank you, Jean,” Claresta said, smiling.
Bell looked down at Linley, who was cursing lying servants and fingering his knife suggestively. “And I have the word of Mistress Pechet of the Cask of Wine that it was near Matins when you came into the alehouse,” Bell said loud enough to drown Linley’s threats. “So where were you between Complin and Matins?”
“He was getting my letter from the whore!” Sir John burst out.
“I tell you I never knew of your letter, whatever it was and to whom,” Linley shouted, but he was shaking and white. “If Nelda took it she did not tell me. I knew nothing of it.”
“Then what were you quarreling about with Nelda that made you throw her down the stairs?” Bell asked.
“I didn’t,” Linley screamed. “I never wanted to hurt Nelda.” He uttered a half sob and then said more quietly, “Anyone will tell you that I never beat her. She was clever and she was amusing. I knew she was not perfect, and she brought terrible trouble on me—”
“When she stole Gehard fitzRobert’s family seal,” Magdalene said.
Linley looked at her, but his thoughts were turned inward and he did not seem to recognize her. “Gehard beat her terribly but she… Perhaps she was afraid that if she admitted what she had done and returned the seal he would kill her, or perhaps she thought she could make some profit out of it.” He sighed but looked at Bell, not at Magdalene. “She was terribly greedy.”
“But Gehard threatened you.” Magdalene’s voice was soft, sympathetic; there was no accusation in it. “You could not fight him and you had to be rid of him. He was a terrible man. Even his own soldiers feared him.”
“Yes, yes. There was only one way. No one grieved for him. But I never meant harm to Nelda. I pleaded with her but she would not give me the seal to return to him. I only meant to shake her. And she bit me, and I pushed her, and she fell… I doubt I will ever find a woman so companionable.”
“How nice to know you find a whore more companionable than I.”
Claresta’s voice stabbed like an icicle pulled from a roof edge. Linley did not seem to notice. Spencer made a low, growling noise and his big hands clenched and unclenched. Bell spared a glance for the big journeyman and wondered just how long it would be before he took Linley apart.
“Companionable!” Sir John roared. “Companionable? Oh, yes. She made me laugh and fed me tidbits and sips of this and that between chuckles. She asked me where I had been, saying she smelled the sea on my clothing. She laughed and teased so I nearly forgot what she was and I told her I had been to Normandy, that the earl of Gloucester had received me. And then she drugged me and stole my letter.”
“It is nothing to do with me,” Linley said more briskly. It was plain to Magdalene that he was relieved by not needing to confess he had poisoned Gehard and expected Nelda’s death to be accepted as accidental. “I knew nothing of it. I was busy here and had not seen Nelda for almost a week.”
“But I am sure she knew you would be returning to her,” Claresta snapped.
“That is none of your business,” Linley said to her, with utter indifference. “Why should you ca
re? You will be my wife by law, lady of Godalming, which is what your father wants. And the son I will get on you will be baron after me.” He looked down his nose. “That is enough for such as you.”
Claresta drew a sharp breath, but Spencer started toward Linley, his big hands out to grasp. Bell turned from where he stood, somewhat to the side but between Linley and Sir John and in easy reach of both. He took two quick steps to put himself in Spencer’s path.
Seeing the threat from Spencer contained, Linley turned back to Sir John and shook his head. Now his voice had an easy confidence. He said, “If Nelda took your letter, it is gone for good. The whore—” he waved at Magdalene “—came with the bishop’s man and cleaned out her rooms. She told me that everything Nelda had went to the bishop of Winchester. So Winchester must have the letter, too, if Nelda stole it.”
“Winchester? Winchester has it? Then I am ruined!”
The husky whisper should have warned Bell, but the easy confidence of Linley’s voice and his crude dismissal of Claresta had brought a snarl to Spencer’s lips. For just one moment too long, Bell’s eyes were fixed on the young giant and Sir John’s knife was out and buried in Linley’s throat. Then Bell was on him and the knife was pulled free and wrested from his hand.
But for Linley it was too late. The knife had severed the big vein in his neck. A fountain of blood followed the blade when Bell pulled it out, running over Bell’s hand and spattering his tunic. Linley’s hands flailed helplessly toward his throat but never even reached it before his body slid bonelessly to the floor.
Claresta screamed, high and shrill, and Spencer pulled her into his arms and buried her face in his broad chest.
Magdalene nearly fainted. The knife. The blood. The body falling all stained with red. Lashed by memory, she held out her hands, but they were clean. She had not shed this blood. She closed her eyes and swallowed her sickness, leaning on wall behind her for support.
Chains of Folly Page 27
