Read A Mortal Bane for Free Online

window in the second-story dorter. Magdalene dropped to the ground, pulling Letice with her but keeping hold on the horse so it would stand still. Both huddled down on the ground, praying that if a monk on his way to the privy saw the animal, he would be too sleepy to do anything about it.
    In a moment the light winked out. Magdalene jumped up and swung the saddlebags over. With shaking hands, she tried to fasten the straps to the loops on the saddle. One was half tied when she heard a bell. It was a faint, small bell, but she feared it might be the bell that woke the ringer to sound Matins, or worse, that the monk who made the light had seen them and was summoning others. She and Letice fled, silent, clinging to each other until they had latched the gate in the church wall behind them.
    When they came near the back door, Letice pulled very gently on Magdalene’s hand. Although she was shaking with fear and fatigue, Magdalene shook her head. “I am sorry, love,” she murmured. “I know you are tired, but we must put the stable to rights. You know some of the monks wish to be rid of us. If Brother Paulinus decides he could accomplish that by saying the poor man came from this house, the stable must not look as if any animal had been there.”
    Letice sighed but followed without any further urging. Together they heaved the displaced bales into position, raked the hay and any soil in it out to the manure heap at the side, and swept the grain from the floor. When they were sure no one would guess that an animal had been stabled there that night, Magdalene took up the dark lantern, blew out the candle in it, and they returned to the house. Dulcie was waiting. She had emptied the wash water and put the bowl away, dried the table, straightened the benches, and put out the candles, so there was no sign of disturbance or disorder.
    “Poor creature’s asleep,” Dulcie said. “Cried herself t’ sleep. A strange sight it be t’ see tears oozin’ out from under those closed lids. Poor child. As if she didn’ have enough trouble of her own.”
    “She will have no more from this,” Magdalene said, facing her maid and speaking as slowly and clearly as she could. “You never saw that man here. We knew nothing of him.” When Dulcie nodded, she sighed and added, “Since Sabina had nothing to do with it, I hope she will soon forget.” With lips thinned to a hard line, she went to put away the dark lantern, then came back to take the maid’s hand. “Thank you, Dulcie. You can go back to bed now.”
    The old woman bobbed her head. “No need of thanks. You done fer me. I do fer you. This be my house much as anyone else here.”
    When she had stumped away to her pallet in the kitchen, Magdalene put her arms around Letice. “Thank you, love. I do not know what I would have done without you. Is there anything else you can think of that we have left undone?”
    Letice started to shake her head, then made her sign for Ella.
    “I do not know what we can do about her.” Magdalene sighed. “Pray that she will have forgotten the stranger or not remember what time he was here. To say anything to her will only fix his presence in her mind.” She sighed again. “I am almost too tired to breathe. Let’s go to bed and pray that we will have time to think and clean up any loose ends in the morning.”
    That prayer was not answered. Soon after Prime, the bell by the back door began to ring and ring, and went on ringing until it pierced Dulcie’s deafness. She crawled from her pallet, unshuttered a window a crack, and peered out. A tall, lean monk with ascetic hollows in his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, carrying a staff, was yanking on the rope as if he wished to tear it down. Dulcie opened the shutter all the way.
    “It be too early,” she cried. “The ladies be asleep.”
    He shouted something at her, but Dulcie was sleepy and angry and did not try to make sense out of what was a dull cacophony to her. She shook her