Free A Mortal Bane by Roberta Gellis Page B

Magdalene assumed they were near the carving of Saint Christopher, but she could not see it at all and she did not dare ask Dulcie. Deaf as she was, the old woman often spoke too loudly. Magdalene reached up and began to feel around.
    She soon found the curved stone frame around the carved image, then the head of the figure. Only a little way farther to the right was a smaller head. She slid her hand down, found the Child’s shoulder and, below that, the hollow bordered by His thigh. With her lip tight between her teeth, she pressed the pouch into the opening. She feared for a moment that it would fall all the way down, but it stopped and to her delight, it felt as if a tiny edge protruded from behind the Child’s thigh. If someone looked carefully, it would be found.
    The breath Magdalene had been holding eased out and then caught again as light bloomed suddenly behind her. Dulcie tugged urgently at her skirt. Without even turning around, she followed the pull, sidling along the wall into the nave, where she knelt as if in prayer. Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering with fear, she lifted her head.
    A robed figure carrying a tallow taper had entered from the south door, which connected through a chapel and a short passage to the monastery. Magdalene clasped her hands and bowed her head, thanking God that they were well away from the Saint Christopher. Even so, if they were found and the pouch was also found in the next day or two, it would not take Brother Paulinus long to put two and two together and insist they had brought the pouch to the church.
    The monk did not bother to look down the nave, however. He hurried from the doorway to the center of the chancel and then walked into the apse. When he was close to the altar, he paused and removed from the breast of his robe an object that glittered faintly, which he lifted, admiring it. Magdalene saw that it was a handsome silver candlestick. Then he walked around to the back of the altar, where he knelt.
    Magdalene could see nothing more. Mentally, she groaned. If the monk had come to perform a penance, or even to pray over self-perceived sins, they might be there for hours. But he was not praying. In only a few moments the monk reappeared, no longer carrying the candlestick. Relief nearly brought self-betrayal as Magdalene fought not to giggle. Idiot that she was. Plainly, the monk had come to return the candlestick to its storage place under the altar. Even as she thought it, he made his way toward the door, where the light suddenly went out and she heard the soft click of the latch.
    Dulcie jumped to her feet and pulled at Magdalene, who had hesitated, breathing a prayer of thanks to the Mother of God. She smiled as she rose, thinking that perhaps being a whore was less offensive to Mary, the only woman who had ever conceived without carnal union with a man, than to her holier-than-thou disciple. Mary knew the heart, and in this case at least, Magdalene knew her heart was pure.
    Not long after, the gate relocked behind them, she and Dulcie were safe inside the house. Magdalene was ready to drop and desired only her bed, but Letice and Sabina, who had been waiting anxiously, had to be told what had happened. Letice only signed that she was glad they got away.
    Sabina sniffed. “I thought monks were supposed to keep regular hours,” she said, her voice querulous. “It seems to me that they are always walking about, looking for mischief.”
    At the time, Magdalene was too tired to want to inquire into what Sabina meant, and she only suggested that everyone go to bed. She got no arguments; the fears and tensions of the day had worn on them all. For herself, Magdalene fell asleep the moment her clothing was off and she crawled into bed. She did not sleep peacefully, however; memories of the dead man, of the sacristan’s threats, and of Sabina’s last remark worked on her.
     
    21 April 1139
    The Bishop of Winchester’s House
     
    Magdalene woke the next