To Wear The White Cloak: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery

by Newman, Sharan

  “Should I?” she asked. “It is a fast day.”

  “That’s why we’re having fish,” Catherine said. “But if you prefer water, I’ll get you another cup.”

  “No, this is mixed well enough,” Clemence said. She didn’t wish to appear ignorant of the customs of Paris.

  They ate and chatted quietly about things calming to the digestion.

  After all the pleasantries custom demanded, Clemence finally could stand it no longer.

  “Have you learned anything about where Lambert is, or my father?” she asked.

  “We may have located the man Lambert is staying with,” Edgar told her. “And we did leave messages for him at all the places I promised. I’m sure you’ll be together soon.”

  “And then what will you do, when you find your husband?” Margaret asked. “It appears that your father may already have left to join the pilgrims.”

  “I suppose we shall have to return home,” Clemence admitted. “And pray that Lord Jordan will respect Father’s wish that I hold the castellany with Lambert to manage it until we have a son who’s of age.”

  “It’s not unheard of,” Catherine said. “Would Lord Jordan be so perverse as to deny the desire of one who has gone to serve God?”

  Clemence smiled. “I think he would. And you must admit, that’s not unheard of, either.”

  “Perhaps you could get the king to grant you the castellany before he leaves?” Margaret suggested.

  “Louis has little power in Picardy,” Edgar said. “Even though he’s supposed to be overlord there.”

  But Catherine thought it a good idea. “If not the king, then why not the pope or the bishop of Amiens? There are so many important people in Paris now. One of them should have some influence with this Jordan.”

  “And how am I to be given a chance to petition Pope Eugenius?” Clemence asked.

  Catherine and Edgar looked at each other, then at Margaret.

  “I think we could find someone who will speak on your behalf,” Catherine said.

  Clemence suddenly remembered who these people were and why she should be more wary of them. They seemed so natural that it was easy to become complacent. She decided that it was time to confront them.

  As casually as she could manage, Clemence took out the knife that had been her mother’s.

  “Oh, is the bread too tough?” Catherine asked. “I’ll send it back and get you something else.”

  “No, not at all,” Clemence said. “Just a piece that’s a bit hard to tear. I can use this for it.”

  She held up the knife. The other three smiled and went on with their meal.

  Disappointed, Clemence tried again.

  “This was carved in our village.” She held it closer for them to inspect. “A matching pair for my parents.”

  “Nice workmanship,” Edgar commented.

  Clemence was confused. If Lambert’s friend, Jehan, were right, they should all have started guiltily. Were they conscienceless or, might they possibly be innocent?

  “Hmm …” Edgar said. “That looks familiar. May I see it?”

  He wiped his hand on the napkin and took the knife from Clemence, holding it up to the light.

  “You know,” he said, “this looks just like that one that the intruder dropped right after we got here. Remember, Catherine?”

  He handed it to her.

  “Yes, how very strange,” Catherine said. “When Samonie comes in again, I’ll ask her what she did with it.”

  “You admit you have my father’s knife?” Clemence was incredulous.

  “We’ll have to compare them to be sure,” Edgar said. “It’s your father’s? Did you already know we had found it? Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “I … well … I … tried,” Clemence said. She took a breath. “Lambert and I saw it when we came to the house the first time.”

  “Is that why you ran out?” Margaret asked. “Did you think we’d stolen it?”

  “No! I mean, Father was missing,” Clemence said. “And there it was.”

  Catherine got up and went over to her.

  “You poor brave girl.” She hugged her. “Now don’t tell her again that she’s been foolish, Edgar. If she’d been a man, you’d expect her to try to find out how we came by this.”

  “But if it was left here by a stranger, then my only hope of finding my father is gone.” Clemence’s lips trembled. Catherine handed her a clean napkin.

  “I don’t suppose we could assume that it was Lord Osto who was our thief?” Edgar said.

  “Of course not!” Clemence was aghast. “My father would never behave like a common cutpurse.”

  No one wanted to utter what they all were thinking. That the intruder had taken the knife from Lord Osto and killed him.

  “The knight in the counting room wasn’t bald,” Catherine said.

  “Father has been as long as I can remember,” Clemence said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s still alive. I think it’s time I accepted that.”

  Catherine knelt next to her and spoke to her as if she were Edana.

  “You mustn’t say that, ma douz. All we have in this life is faith, and we must hold to it as long as we can. We’ll all pray for Lambert’s return and your father’s safety. Until then, you mustn’t despair.”

  To her astonishment, Clemence threw herself into Catherine’s arms sobbing hysterically.

  Catherine held and rocked her while Edgar and Margaret gathered around, patting her now and then in sympathy.

  “There now,” Edgar said uncomfortably. “It will be fine. There’s no need for all this.”

  “She’s just lost her mother and can’t find her father,” Margaret told Edgar. “She’s alone and frightened. I think she should cry all she wants.”

  The noise brought Samonie from the kitchen, followed by James and Edana, who had been ordered to stay out of sight for the evening.

  “Mama! What’s wrong?” Edana tried to displace Clemence in Catherine’s lap.

  “Edana, go to your father,” Catherine said sternly.

  Clemence lifted her head. “No,” she gulped. “I’m sorry, Edana. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Edana wiped her grubby hands on Clemence’s cheeks.

  “Don’t cry,” she said. “My papa will make it better.”

  Edgar rolled his eyes.

  “Thank you, Edana” he said. “Now go back to the kitchen with Samonie and wash your hands.”

  Catherine mopped up the tears and grime from Clemence’s face.

  “I don’t think it’s as hopeless as you fear,” she said. “Samonie, when you’ve taken care of Edana, could you bring that knife we found on the floor when Astrolabe scared off the robber?”

  “First we’ll compare them, to be sure,” she told Clemence. “But then, I think we’re going to have to ask Samonie a few questions. One person getting into the house at night is possible, but the way we’ve been invaded, it could only be if someone was leaving the door unlocked for them.”

  Samonie stood before the four of them, ranged at the table like judges.

  “I was never gone long,” she said. “And I would never have left at all if I’d known someone was watching for a chance to get in.”

  “But why didn’t you simply tell me,” Catherine protested. “I would have given you leave to see your … uh … friend.”

  “I had good reason,” Samonie insisted. “But I am truly sorry that my stupidity put you in danger.”

  Now she faced Edgar. “I thought the guards would be enough, but someone must have got past them.” She knelt before him. “I swear I didn’t know. I owe you everything. I would gladly die to protect you all. Please don’t turn me out!”

  “And the knife?” Edgar asked. “You had no idea it came from this girl’s father?”

  “Her father?” Samonie stared at Clemence. She seemed taken aback by the news. “I don’t see … no, why would he have come …”

  She turned back to Edgar.

  “No,”
she said. “Why would I have thought a lord would break into our house?”

  “Samonie, you know more about this than you’re telling us, don’t you?” Catherine asked.

  “No,” Samonie answered too quickly. “There’s always such a jumble of people visiting you that it’s no wonder I become confused. It was terribly wrong of me to leave the house unprotected just because I wanted to sneak out to see my lover. I’ll take any punishment you set, only don’t blame Martin. He knows nothing.”

  Catherine started to speak, but Edgar held up his hand.

  “I’m not satisfied with your answer,” he said. “But I’m not going to turn you out. Not yet. Catherine and I will discuss the matter. Clemence should have a say, as well, since by your silence you’re keeping her from finding out the truth about her father.”

  “He’s not the one!” Samonie blurted.

  “One what?” Clemence asked.

  “The man I’ve been seeing,” Samonie said.

  “Oh,” Clemence said. “Of course not.”

  “We didn’t think it was,” Edgar said. “Samonie, why won’t you tell us the truth? Can’t you see how worried Lady Clemence is?”

  “I can’t tell her anything,” Samonie said. “Please, do what you will, but stop badgering me about her father. I don’t know how his knife came to be in our house. Ask Master Hubert, Mistress. He’s the one who would know.”

  She stood, untied her apron and threw it on the table.

  “I’m going to Willa’s,” she announced. “If you want to have me charged with burglary, you’ll find me there.”

  “Samonie!” Catherine shouted.

  “Let her go,” Edgar said. “That’s where Clemence is staying, after all. Samonie isn’t thinking clearly. Perhaps none of us is.”

  He laughed without humor.

  “I suppose I might as well take you back, if Samonie is going that way. Or would you rather stay here?”

  Clemence stared at them.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “My mind is all in disorder. Do you think that woman knows my father?”

  “Not carnally, I’m sure,” Catherine said. “She was too adamant for me to doubt her. But she may well have met him, if not recently, then when he came to see my father on earlier visits. I can’t understand why she won’t tell us. What is she afraid of?”

  “I don’t know, Catherine,” Edgar said. “But, until we can come to some sort of understanding in the matter, you and I will have to see that our children are tucked in for the night. Samonie is far too upset. Margaret, will you see to Clemence?”

  “I don’t mind helping,” Clemence spoke up. “I like children.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said absently. “Edgar, I think you should be sure Samonie does go to Willa’s. And stays there.”

  Edgar thought about this, then nodded. “You may be right. I’ll get Solomon on the way. He’s had too many good nights’ sleep lately.”

  “I don’t need a guard,” Samonie said indignantly, when Edgar proposed to go with her.

  “I know that,” he answered. “We still trust you.”

  “Master, I beg you.” She sighed. “I mean no harm to any of you, I swear on the bear-chewed bones of Saint Perpetua. I would slit my own throat before I let anyone hurt you.”

  Edgar only looked at her, waiting until she had put on her cloak and street shoes. Samonie cringed. His silences were much more frightening than another man’s raging.

  They said nothing more during the walk to the felt maker’s. Just before they entered, Samonie turned to Edgar.

  “I’ve told Martin only that I’m going to spend the night at his sister’s,” she said. “You won’t upset him, will you? Not before you have to.”

  “I’ve no quarrel with Martin,” Edgar said. “Unless he’s helping you.”

  “He didn’t even know about the man,” Samonie said. “He always sleeps like the dead. He never knew I was gone.”

  Bodille and Willa were still up when they came in. They were surprised to see Samonie instead of Clemence.

  “Master Edgar,” Willa began, “he didn’t come to your house, did he? We wouldn’t tell him where she was, even though he threatened to throttle Mistress Bodille.”

  “Who?” Edgar said, thinking he should return home at once. “No one came to see us.”

  “Shortly after you left,” Bodille told them, “a man came looking for Lady Clemence. He said he was her husband, but he didn’t look like a lord to me and you told us not to let anyone know she was here. So we told him he had the wrong house and he finally went off.”

  “What did he look like?” Edgar said.

  “In his early twenties,” Willa answered. “Dark hair, Picard accent.”

  “Lambert,” Edgar said. “Damn. Does either of you know where he went?”

  The women shook their heads.

  “If he should come back, send him to us,” Edgar ordered. “Lord or not, he really is her husband, and we have to find him.”

  Solomon was having a quiet game of chess with his uncle when Edgar arrived.

  “Come with me,” he said as he threw Solomon his cloak. “We’ve got to track down Jehan, Lambert and Samonie’s lover.”

  “Her what?” Solomon said as he caught the cloak and swung it over his shoulders, knocking the pieces off the chessboard.

  “No demons or ghosts in the house,” Edgar said. “Just Samonie sneaking out for a quick tumble.”

  “You should have her whipped!” Hubert said as he gathered up the chessmen. “Leaving the house open to anyone!”

  “I’m taking care of it,” Edgar said. “It’s nothing to do with you anymore.”

  “Edgar!” Solomon protested as they went out.

  Edgar rounded on him. “Hubert’s left us this mess,” he told Solomon. “He has no right to tell me what I should do.”

  “Very well,” Solomon answered. “But would you mind telling me what we’re doing?”

  “As soon as I decide,” Edgar said, as they stepped into the night.

  At the house, Catherine had first made sure all the doors were barred and bolted. Then she told Martin to wait in the entry for Edgar to return. Finally, she, Margaret, and Clemence went up to the third floor, where the children and Margaret slept. James and Edana hopped up in front of them, totally unaware of the tension in their elders.

  “I’ve brought all this trouble on your house,” Clemence said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “My dear, the trouble was here long before you were born,” Catherine said wearily. “It’s because of us that Jehan took an interest in your husband. It’s Samonie I can’t believe. She must have bribed the guards to look the other way when she went out and in. But why? Is the man married? A priest? Has she said nothing to you, Margaret?”

  “I knew she was worried about something,” Margaret said. “But I thought it had to do with Willa.”

  “What about Willa?” Catherine asked.

  “Haven’t you noticed? She’s not well.” Margaret sounded worried, herself. “She’s not pregnant, but her fluxes have stopped and she coughs all the time and she’s getting thinner and paler.”

  Catherine stopped in mid-step. “Blessed Mother, forgive me. I saw but didn’t realize. Has she seen a leech?”

  “Yes. The woman told her it was a wasting sickness and gave her some medicine, but it’s not working,” Margaret said.

  “Poor Willa!” Catherine said. “And poor Samonie! She should have told us. Perhaps a medicus would know more. I’ll ask Maurice whom to go to.”

  “I wonder if it’s the felt,” Clemence said. “I’ve been coughing since I got there, but I stopped once I was away from the house.”

  “Felt?” Catherine said. “I don’t know. To be honest, I have no idea how the stuff is made, except that wet wool is pressed to make a thick cloth. Maybe standing in the water all day isn’t good for her.”

  “But I didn’t stand in the water,” Clemence said. “There must be a foul humor in the air there, like at t
he tannery or the dyer’s.”

  “I’ll go see her tomorrow,” Catherine said, “and have a long talk with Samonie. I don’t know what’s changed her so. She used to tell me everything.”

  Bertulf waited until he heard Godfrey sneak out before he threw off his covers, revealing that he was not only still in shoes and belt, but also his mail shirt. He picked up his sword and buckler and held them carefully so that they didn’t make a sound as he followed his servant.

  He thought he was the only one who had noticed Godfrey’s nightly peregrinations. However, as he left the preceptory, right behind him followed Brother Baudwin and Master Durand.

  “First we’re going to question the wizard,” Edgar said. “He may know where Jehan lives, and, if not, he can tell us what sort of concoctions he’s been selling.”

  “You mean that crazy old man who lives by the Biévre?” Solomon asked. “I thought only students and girls seeking love potions went to him.”

  “And fools,” Edgar answered. “Do you remember Jehan from your childhood? Was he always so credulous?”

  “I don’t know,” Solomon answered. “He was just another one of those brutes who rode around looking dangerous. He and Catherine’s uncle Roger seemed to be the loudest of them, but Aunt Johanna told me that knights skewered bad little Jewish boys at the end of their spears and roasted them, so mostly I just stayed clear of anyone in a mail shirt.”

  The two men reached the hut mostly by feeling their way along the pitch-dark path. The sound of flowing water warned them when they had passed it.

  “Odd that he doesn’t have a lamp,” Solomon commented. “You’d think he’d get most of his customers at night.”

  They slipped over the mossy logs that surrounded the hut and finally found the door. When Edgar knocked, it creaked open.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Solomon said.