Read Online A Mortal Bane by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roberta Gellis
Tags: Medieval Mystery
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shrugged. “But I think this confirms Stephen. Here are the words fedei defensor, which I am sure mean ‘defender of the faith.’ The pope would not call a man he has just deprived of a throne ‘defender of the faith.’ So the letter must say that the pope has confirmed Stephen as king. Well, that is important, but not important enough to chance the danger of hanging. It is the bull that worries me.”
Magdalene spoke somewhat absently, her eyes fixed on the letter, noticing that some of the words were very like French. And then, toward the end, another name caught her eye: Henry de Blois, episcopus Winchesteri. That would be Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester. She scanned the lines around the name, word by word, found felix, which she was sure meant “happy,” and then legatus .
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “The bull must be to give legatine powers to the Bishop of Winchester.” She looked up, met Letice’s and Dulcie’s eyes. “That must be delivered!”
“I suppose so,” Sabina agreed, reluctantly lifting her hand away from the money. “I remember how disappointed you were at Christmas when Theobald of Bec was elected archbishop instead of Henry. But I cannot understand why the king would not prefer his own brother, who has done so much for him.”
“That would be why, I fear. Few love the bestower of favors.” Magdalene sighed. “Or likely, the king’s present favorite, Waleran de Meulan, felt that Henry was too powerful already, holding Winchester, the rich abbey of Glastonbury, and administering the diocese of London. William of Ypres said he thought Waleran threatened that Henry, if he should become archbishop, would be a rival king.”
Letice, frowning, touched Magdalene, made a gesture that included them all, and then the sign for a question.
“Why should we care?” Magdalene half smiled. “Partly because I like the Bishop of Winchester. He is clever, wise, and quick to act or give a reason why he will not. More important, the more power in the hands of Henry of Winchester, the safer we are. If he had become archbishop, no other priest or bishop would dare complain about us, since he placed us here.”
“Well, he already holds Winchester and London,” Sabina began, then shook her head sharply. “Oh, I understand. If the new Archbishop of Canterbury should be another such as Brother Paulinus or just wish to impress everyone with his piety, he could call for a cleansing of Southwark.”
“Or if he is a creature of Winchester’s enemies, he could use us to prove that the bishop is unchaste. But if Winchester is legate, that is even better for us. If he had become archbishop, eventually another man would have been elected Bishop of Winchester. It would be that man who would own this house, and we have no guarantee he would be as understanding as this bishop.”
Sabina smiled. “I understand. Even if the bishop does nothing directly, the knowledge that we rent this house from him is a safeguard to us. Protected by the pope’s legate! No one will speak against us, not even the new Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Yes, indeed. Which means that the pouch must not be cast into the river—it must be found.”
Letice gripped Magdalene’s wrist, waved at the house, and then shook her head violently.
“No, of course it must not be found here.”
“You want the pouch found?” Dulcie asked, seemingly having understood at least part of the conversation.
“Yes. It must be found. The bull” —Magdalene pointed to the document— “makes our bishop legate of the pope. He will be stronger in protecting us.”
“Best it be found in th’ church, then. Poor man might’ve hid ‘t there before he be kilt.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Sabina exclaimed. “But where?”
“There be a place,” Dulcie said. “Y’ know I clean in th’ church. It be me offerin’ to God, me own offerin’ that don’ put no money in th’ monks’ greedy hands. Y’ know that carvin’ of Saint
Magdalene spoke somewhat absently, her eyes fixed on the letter, noticing that some of the words were very like French. And then, toward the end, another name caught her eye: Henry de Blois, episcopus Winchesteri. That would be Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester. She scanned the lines around the name, word by word, found felix, which she was sure meant “happy,” and then legatus .
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “The bull must be to give legatine powers to the Bishop of Winchester.” She looked up, met Letice’s and Dulcie’s eyes. “That must be delivered!”
“I suppose so,” Sabina agreed, reluctantly lifting her hand away from the money. “I remember how disappointed you were at Christmas when Theobald of Bec was elected archbishop instead of Henry. But I cannot understand why the king would not prefer his own brother, who has done so much for him.”
“That would be why, I fear. Few love the bestower of favors.” Magdalene sighed. “Or likely, the king’s present favorite, Waleran de Meulan, felt that Henry was too powerful already, holding Winchester, the rich abbey of Glastonbury, and administering the diocese of London. William of Ypres said he thought Waleran threatened that Henry, if he should become archbishop, would be a rival king.”
Letice, frowning, touched Magdalene, made a gesture that included them all, and then the sign for a question.
“Why should we care?” Magdalene half smiled. “Partly because I like the Bishop of Winchester. He is clever, wise, and quick to act or give a reason why he will not. More important, the more power in the hands of Henry of Winchester, the safer we are. If he had become archbishop, no other priest or bishop would dare complain about us, since he placed us here.”
“Well, he already holds Winchester and London,” Sabina began, then shook her head sharply. “Oh, I understand. If the new Archbishop of Canterbury should be another such as Brother Paulinus or just wish to impress everyone with his piety, he could call for a cleansing of Southwark.”
“Or if he is a creature of Winchester’s enemies, he could use us to prove that the bishop is unchaste. But if Winchester is legate, that is even better for us. If he had become archbishop, eventually another man would have been elected Bishop of Winchester. It would be that man who would own this house, and we have no guarantee he would be as understanding as this bishop.”
Sabina smiled. “I understand. Even if the bishop does nothing directly, the knowledge that we rent this house from him is a safeguard to us. Protected by the pope’s legate! No one will speak against us, not even the new Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“Yes, indeed. Which means that the pouch must not be cast into the river—it must be found.”
Letice gripped Magdalene’s wrist, waved at the house, and then shook her head violently.
“No, of course it must not be found here.”
“You want the pouch found?” Dulcie asked, seemingly having understood at least part of the conversation.
“Yes. It must be found. The bull” —Magdalene pointed to the document— “makes our bishop legate of the pope. He will be stronger in protecting us.”
“Best it be found in th’ church, then. Poor man might’ve hid ‘t there before he be kilt.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Sabina exclaimed. “But where?”
“There be a place,” Dulcie said. “Y’ know I clean in th’ church. It be me offerin’ to God, me own offerin’ that don’ put no money in th’ monks’ greedy hands. Y’ know that carvin’ of Saint
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