“Well, itis,” she insisted as Susanna scowled. “Alvina’s Lamentwas so beautiful, butBickford and Cedricais delicious. Cadie, it is wonderful!”
Cadelyn heard her but was too busy to reply. She finished counting out the last of the money to Yerik, who held the coins in the folds of his robe. A young man in his twentieth year, he wanted to be a priest but his talent for writing and art had him managing the clerics at St. Margaret. He had known Cadelyn for several years because Lady Summerlin was a great patroness of St. Margaret’s and she brought her wards to attend mass there, and not being particularly pious, Cadelyn often wandered the grounds during mass rather than pray. On one such wandering,she had come across a rather full-bellied young man, unhappy with his role in life, and a friendship was born.
Now, that friendship was a lucrative business arrangement.
“There you are,” Cadelyn said to Yerik. “Make sure everyone gets the money they have earned. This is the best we have ever done.”
Yerik tucked the money away eagerly. “I shall,” he said. “Do you have the next poem for us?”
Cadelyn nodded as she dug into the silk purse on her belt and pulled forth a rolled piece of parchment. Handing it over to Yerik, the young cleric unrolled it excitedly as Cadelyn recited the words cast upon it from memory.
“In the Garden of Passion,
He comes upon me as a warm wind
His heat fills my veins
I can feel nothing else but his touch,
Taste nothing else but his skin
He feasts upon Venus in the Garden of Passion.”
Yerik’s eyes widened as Lily-Elsie giggled. “This shall be the best one yet,” he said, tucking the parchment away with the money. “I will push the men to do more than one hundred cards this time. We shall do as many as we can and make more money than ever.”
Cadelyn was flattered that the cleric and Lily-Elsie seemed so excited about the new poem. “Do you think so?” she said. “I stayed up nearly all night composing it.”
Yerik nodded eagerly. “The wealthy women of Lynn like nothing better than to read your lewd poems during the week and then come to mass to pray forgiveness on Sunday. It keeps their blood flowing and our pockets full.”
Cadelyn grinned. “Those poems are a work of art on your beautiful cards,” she said. “Please thank your men for their fine work. I shall write something new and bring it to you soon.”
“We shall be ready, my lady.”
“Yerik, I want to know something,” Susanna said in her matter-of-fact, almost masculine manner. “How is it that the priests do not see what you and the other clerics are doing?”
Yerik looked at the woman. She was tall, with muscular arms, and long, wavy hair the color of copper. She wasn’t unattractive in the least but there was something quite intimidating about her.
“It is simple, my lady,” he said. “We work on the poetry cards when the priests are busy with any number of canonical duties. When they are not, we keep the cards well-hidden. We are very careful.”
“But you use supplies purchased by the church,” she pointed out. “All of those cards are from pieces of wood that are provided to you by the church, are they not?”
Yerik shook his head. “We make our own,” he said. “We go into the forest to the east and cut the wood ourselves for the prayer cards that we make for the priests. While we are there, we simply cut extra wood. That is why Lady Dark’s cards are the exact size and shape as the prayer cards.”
Susanna merely snorted, a clear sign of disapproval, but said nothing more. With the conversation ended, Yerik rushed back towards the cloister, passing through the old iron gate where he had so recently sold the indecent cards. Cadelyn tucked her money away as Susanna, weary of the entire venture, began to head back towards the livery one street over.
“Come along, Lady Dark,” she said, somewhat sarcastically. “Let us return to Lady Summerlin with a lie as to why we had to come to Lynn today in the first place. She would not believe thatyou have come to St. Margaret’s to pray, so what are you going to tell her?”
Cadelyn caught up to Susanna and her long strides, pulling Lily-Elsie along. “I am going to tell her the truth,” she said. “I am going to tell her that we came to town to the paper broker and purchased more writing supplies, which I will prove to her when I show her what I bought.”
Susanna cast her a long glance. “Writing supplies for your coming journey?”
Cadelyn’s good spirits fled as swiftly as a breath blows out a flame. Just like that, it was gone, and her stomach began to twist in knots.
“I told you not to speak of it,” she said quietly.
Susanna knew her feelings on the subject but, in her opinion, it was foolish to resist one’s duty. “I must speak of it and you know it,” she said. “You have an escort coming from London any day now to escort you to Chester. You have not even packed your trunks, Cadelyn, and you act as if a journey is not imminent. If Lady Summerlin discovers you are not prepared, she will become angry.”
Cadelyn didn’t care about Lady Summerlin’s anger. Furthermore, she didn’t want to be reminded of what was coming. Traveling to St. Margaret’s on this day had caused her to forget, however briefly, about the future that had been dictated for her.
