The Difficult Saint: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery (21 page)

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Authors: Sharan Newman

BOOK: The Difficult Saint: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery
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Catherine would rather not. She’d always been fond of her bombastic grandfather even though he’d made it clear that he felt female relations were useful only for the alliances they made.
“I want to find the truth,” she said quietly. “I don’t believe Agnes killed her husband, but if it should happen that she did and you had no part in it, then I’d fight to free you.”
Lisette looked from her to Laudine.
“I don’t know that we can believe you,” she said.
Catherine put her hand to the cross at her neck.
“I swear by the body of Our Lord Jesus and by the tears of his mother that if you are innocent, I will do every thing I can to see that you are sent home safely.”
The two maids whispered behind their hands, looking from each other to Catherine, who was still holding her cross. Edgar had made it for her, and touching it gave her some of his calmness and strength.
Finally, Laudine slapped Lisette’s hand down and they turned back.
“Very well,” Laudine said. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s sit down,” Catherine suggested. “This may take some time.”
 
Edgar and Margaret didn’t like waiting. Catherine and Walter had gone off to the convent. Hubert was talking to the other Jewish traders, so someone had to tend to the little ones.
But James and Edana didn’t like waiting, either.
“Papa!” James whined. “I want to go out and play.”
“Play, Papa!” Edana echoed.
Margaret didn’t say anything. She felt she was too old to whine. But Edgar saw in her eyes that she was also tired of being cooped up indoors.
“Well, perhaps it would be a good idea to explore the town,” he said. “I have a few coins of Trier. We could get some bread and sausage and eat it by the river. Do you want to watch the boats,
deorling
?” he asked Edana.
“She says ‘yes,’” James answered for her.
The summer sun was hot on the cobblestones in the square when they arrived. Most people were taking an afternoon rest having arisen with the dawn, hours before. Edgar found a stall open in the shadow of the bishop’s palace. He bought cold sausage and hard bread and then got a pitcher of beer to soften it in.
The brewess looked at him without interest but, as they left, they heard a shout. As they turned to look, a rotten turnip hit Margaret in the chest. Another grazed Edgar’s shoulder, where Edana was perched. He set her down and started angrily toward the boys, who prepared to throw another volley.
As they aimed again, one boy caught sight of Edgar’s left arm. His eyes moved from the empty space to the fury in Edgar’s eyes. The boy stopped and pointed.
“
Sî verwâzet unde verfluochet
!” he shrieked. “
Franzeis Tiuvel
!”
The other boys took up the cry in tones that ranged from terror to glee. Edgar bent to pick up a stone to drive them off. As he lifted it, a man came out of one of the buildings on the square. Edgar looked back at Margaret, who was holding each child by the hand. He called to her in English.
“Take them away! Now! I’ll follow you, but you have to get yourselves to safety!”
Still holding the stone, Edgar watched the man approach the boys. They all talked at once, pointing toward him. The man looked him up and down, then his eyes flicked to where Margaret was trying to keep James from running to defend his father.
Edgar yelled again. “Margaret, hurry away from here! Wait for Walter and tell him where I am.”
The man listened in puzzlement. Then he shouted at the boys. All Edgar could make out was “
Engelisch! Niht Franzeis
!”
It was the first time in many years that Edgar was glad he was English instead of French. The boys dropped their turnips and ran off. The man waited until they were out of sight. Then he came back to Edgar and offered his hand.
Edgar let go of the stone.
“You’re a long way from home.” The man greeted him in accented English. “We don’t get many men from the North this far into Germany.”
“I didn’t expect to find anyone here who even knew the language.”
Edgar evaded the implied question. “You must be a merchant. What do you trade in?”
“Whatever I can sell at a profit,” the man answered, equally evasive. “I have a home in Norwich, as well as Trier. Those your children?” He nodded toward Margaret and the children. “Odd to bring them so far.”
“We have family here,” Edgar explained. “Thank you for driving off those young barbarians. Is that the usual welcome given to travelers?”
“Not at all,” the man said. “We’re glad of the business you bring, especially these past few years with the archbishop’s war. No, the boys had some fool idea that you were in league with a sorceress.”
Edgar forced a laugh.
“If I were, I wouldn’t be stuck here child-minding,” he said. “Now, I promised my son we’d go watch the boats. Thank you again.”
“It’s my duty to help fellow merchants.” The man bowed. “Perhaps someday you can rescue me.”
 
Catherine was growing weary of listening to the litany of injustices that had been heaped upon Lisette and Laudine. Agnes had been distant with them, even though they were as well born as she. Gerhardt had promised to find suitable husbands for them and had rudely died, instead. The colors of the German embroidery threads were wrong. The food gave them gas. The two entered into a fierce debate about the quality of the wine that excluded Catherine altogether. It was only by the threat of leaving them in the convent to find their own way home that they were brought to answering Catherine’s questions.
“What was your opinion of Gerhardt?” she asked. “Was he kind to his servants, his family?”
“Oh, tremendously!” Laudine said. “He gave both of us gifts and put us at the high table with his closest retainers.”
“I saw a serving boy drop a whole platter of meat pies and Gerhardt didn’t beat or kick him,” Lisette added. “Not even once. He just laughed and let the dogs go for them. Imagine the waste!”
“You could tell that everyone loved him,” Laudine added. “He
was wonderfully handsome. I don’t know why Agnes was so unhappy with him.”
“Was she?” Catherine jumped on this. “How could you tell?”
“The morning after the wedding it was obvious that she’d been crying.” Lisette leaned forward and lowered her voice. “But Gerhardt treated her kindly. He never shamed her in public about it.”
“About what?”
“Why, that she wasn’t a virgin, of course,” Lisette said. “There was no blood on her shift or the sheets. We saw them the morning after the wedding. I don’t know why she wasn’t prepared. There are several easy methods to fool a man about that.”
“Really?” Catherine almost let herself be diverted, but Laudine interrupted.
“That wasn’t it, you goose,” she said. “I think he never got far enough into her to find out.”
“Really!” Catherine could only repeat.
“I’m sure of it,” Laudine nodded sagely. “The man ate only bread and herbs. He wouldn’t even have fish. They filled his plate but he gave all the meat to others. He thought no one noticed, but I did. Every day was a fast day for him. I think he was doing penance for something and it weakened him so that he was limp as a wet rag. Poor Agnes!” She giggled.
“That would hardly be reason enough to kill a man,” Catherine said, thankful that Edgar never refused meat.
“Well, we don’t know what other forms the penance took, do we?” Laudine smiled.
Catherine could tell that their speculations on that were of no more use than hers. She tried another approach.
“What about the rest of the family?” she asked. “What did you think of them?”
“The boy is sweet,” Lisette said. “He’ll make a fine man soon.”
“But not soon enough,” Laudine added sourly.
“What about the brother and sister?”
Lisette pursed her lips. “The brother isn’t much to look at. His nose is too big and his hair is so thin the top of his head is blistering from the sun.”
“Yes, but, what about his relationship with Gerhardt?” Catherine pushed. “Did you see signs of envy or resentment?”
Lisette and Laudine looked at each other, they simultaneously shook their heads.
“Of course, no one in the family of a lord would last long if they showed every jealous thought,” Lisette said, “but the two men seemed to be friends. Gerhardt was very generous to him, I think.”
“And the sister, Maria?”
“She runs the household well,” Laudine conceded. “No one dares disobey her. But I don’t think she’d have minded turning the duty over to Agnes. Anyway, if she did, that would be reason to remove Agnes, not her brother. Gerhardt appeared to dote on her and she on him. He was always very attentive to her.”
Was there no flaw in the man? Catherine was mystified. There had to be someone who disliked him.
“What about the other one,” she said. “What is his name? The sister’s husband.”
For a moment they looked blank. Then Laudine remembered.
“Oh, Folmar,” she said. “He’s a complete cipher to me; hardly ever speaks, just follows his wife around like a lap dog. Does whatever she commands.”
“His behavior is very distasteful,” Lisette agreed. “I want a husband with some backbone.”
“Did Folmar make advances to you?” Catherine asked.
Lisette grimaced. “Not one,” she said in disgust. “What kind of men do they grow here? Don’t look to that one for your murderer; he wouldn’t piss without permission.”
“This is ridiculous!” Catherine burst out. “There must be someone among his servants or neighbors or relations who bore Gerhardt a grudge.”
“Well, if there was, we never met him.” Laudine closed the conversation by standing. “That leaves only Agnes, as we said all along. Now, don’t forget that you promised to help us get out of here. Come, Lisette.”
It was several minutes after they left before Catherine could trust herself to call for the portress to let her out. She was boiling over with anger that she dared not release upon the poor woman. The maids’ story was so embroidered with a sense of personal insult that is would take forever to sift out the truth.
There was only one thing to do. If Agnes were to be saved, then Catherine had to make her sister tell her everything that happened, no matter how much it might shame her.
 
Lanval and Astolfo ran through the fields, slipping on loose stones, falling, clambering up again, oblivious of the scrapes and mud they had collected.
“What shall we do now?” Lanval panted.
“Get to the others and hurry away from here,” Astolfo answered between skids.
They reached the cave at last. Denise stared at them in alarm.
“What happened?” she asked. “Did you see our patron? Was he gone? Has someone set their dogs on you?”
Lanval leaned against the mouth of the cave, panting. Astolfo bent over, hands on his knees, gasping. As soon as he could, he blurted out the news.
“Our patron. The
perfectus
! He’s
dead
!”
Denise gaped at them, not believing. Father Milun let out a wail and began reciting a
nostre pere
.
“Was he discovered?” Denise managed to ask. “Did they burn him?”
Astolfo shook his head. “I don’t think anyone knew he was one of us. They say his new wife poisoned him.”
“Wife!” Denise was even more confused. “But how could that be?”
She went over to her husband and held onto him, assuring herself that he was unharmed, then repeated the question.
“We couldn’t find out more about that,” Astolfo said. “But I did learn that Paganus has been waylaid and murdered, as well.”
“May his soul be allowed to return to God,” Father Milun said. “And the message he carried?”
“I couldn’t ask without causing suspicion. I hope it was lost,” Astolfo said. “But there was nothing written on it that names us.”
He looked around. “Where’s Andreas?”
“He went into Trier,” Denise said. “Just after you left.”
“You shouldn’t have allowed that,” Astolfo chided. “His enthusiasm is dangerous.”
“He promised that he wouldn’t preach,” Denise said. “But he’s the only one of us with enough German to bargain. And the soles of my shoes are thinner than this broth.”
“But he knew we were going for alms,” said Lanval. “And the baliff at the castle did give us both blankets and bread, for the soul of the dead lord.”
He showed them the parcel slung on his back.
Denise inspected it. “But nothing to repair our shoes with. Andreas’s boots are nothing but holes.”
“The apostles went barefoot,” Astolfo began, but Denise interrupted.
“But we don’t,” she said. “None of us are perfect, yet. I’ve walked for months and am grateful that Andreas is willing to use one of his few coins to get leather to protect my tired feet.”

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