Chains of Folly Read Free Page A

from you…only I do not think you should mention the letter to them. They are close-mouthed, but…” Bell nodded quick agreement and Magdalene went on, “And do not use the word murder when Ella can hear—”
    “You may be sure I will not do that!” Bell exclaimed, his taut face relaxing into a smile. “I and my long sword, which can protect her, would never be allowed to leave without wails and reproaches.” He laughed aloud as Magdalene opened the door and stepped out. “And actually the sword is almost useless in a house. It is the poniard—” he tapped the well-worn, leather-wrapped hilt of his long knife, which he had hooked next to his eating knife “—that is useful.”
    Magdalene sighed, “Yes, I have seen you use it in close quarters. I do hope this problem will not come to that.”
    “I, too,” Bell agreed, and stopped abruptly as he entered the common room.
    * * * *
    While Bell and Magdalene had been absent, the women had set the table for dinner. Bell’s eyes misted a little when he saw that they had laid a place for him on the end of the long bench to the right of the short bench at the head of the table where Magdalene sat. He looked around the room, suddenly seeing the place with new eyes because he had thought he would never see it again.
    Nobody entering that chamber would believe he was in a house of prostitution. The large room, the refectory when the house had been a monastic guesthouse, had the comfortable appearance of a well-to-do merchant’s home. To his left, near a wall that had two open but solidly barred windows, was a large table. Two short benches were set at the head and foot of the table, two long benches along each side.
    Across from the table was a generous hearth, now empty in the heat of summer. But around it were set four stools, three with work baskets beside them and the fourth facing a large embroidery frame that held an almost-completed altar cloth. Taking a deep breath, Bell walked toward the place set for him.
    “Magdalene says she is very glad to be home,” Ella said in her high little-girl voice. “I am glad. I was afraid that she would find some place she liked better and would not come back. Diot was very good, but it was not the same.” She smiled at him with blinding happiness. “You are glad to be home, too. That is very good. I have missed you. I know you cannot be my friend, but it is comfortable to have you here.”
    Ella, small, plump, utterly adorable, with the mind of a child of five and an insatiable craving for sexual congress. Her golden hair hung in soft waves and curls down to her hips. Her skin was white, just enough touched with rose on the high cheekbones and lips to prove that she was in glowing health. Her nose was short and snub and her eyes were as blue—and as completely empty—as a cloudless summer sky.
    Bell smiled back at Ella, although her words made him feel more like crying. “Yes, I am glad to be back too,” he said, “but I am not likely to be here much. This is a very bad and sad time for my master and I will be very busy.”
    “Bad and sad?” Ella’s eyes grew round, her expression apprehensive.
    “Nothing to do with you, love,” Bell said hastily. “And nothing to do with Magdalene or this house. It is all owing to a quarrel about what the Church owns and what the king owns. You may listen if you like, sweet, but I don’t think you will find it very interesting.”
    “I am sure I will not,” Ella said, giggling. “And there is no sense my listening when I will not remember anyway.”
    The faintly anxious expressions on the faces of the other women told him that they feared it was more than the bishop’s problems that would keep Bell from the Old Priory Guesthouse. He looked from one to the other.
    Letice was a perfect contrast to Ella, dark of skin and eyes, with hair that hung to her knees as straight and smooth as a black curtain. Also small, her smooth curves hid a wiry strength that, Bell had been told,