Murder for Christ's Mass tk-4

by Maureen Ash

  Bascot waited with Ernulf in the barracks until Gianni returned from the bathhouse, and then told the boy he was going to report to the sheriff that, unfortunately, they had not found anything in the manufactory to provide evidence of Tasser’s involvement in an unreported treasure trove.

  It was late in the afternoon by the time Bascot went to interrogate the silversmith. The winter day was already darkening and spatters of rain were beginning to fall, driven on their course by a rising wind. Tasser was in a distraught condition when the Templar entered the cell. His squat body was curled up on a straw pallet in the corner and the posture enhanced his unfortunate resemblance to a toad. The fine tunic the silversmith had been wearing when arrested was soiled and his embroidered silk hat lay on the floor.

  When the guard opened the door and Bascot came in, Tasser struggled to his knees, his bulbous eyes fearful. “Sir Bascot,” he pleaded, hands clutched together in supplication, “please, for the love of God, tell me you have come to release me from this hellhole.”

  “No, silversmith, I have not,” Bascot replied. “You are to be charged with the murder of your apprentice, Roger Fardein, and will remain here until Sheriff Camville convenes his court and tries you for the crime.”

  “But I did not kill Roger, I swear to you,” Tasser said, his fleshy lips quivering. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  Bascot shrugged. “We have proof you are a criminal. Perhaps your apprentice threatened to report you to the authorities.”

  Tasser shook his head dolefully. “Since you found stolen items in my possession, I have no choice but to admit I have consorted with thieves, but that is all I have done. I have murdered no one.”

  “Fardein knew of your illegal dealings, did he not?” Bascot asked.

  The silversmith gave a forlorn nod. “But Roger was not a threat to me. He was a willing partner in the transactions. It was through him that contact with the thieves was made. Whenever one of them had something to sell, they would come to the alehouse where Roger drank and tell him what they had to offer. If a piece seemed valuable enough to interest me, Roger would bring the item to the manufactory and we would decide together how much we would offer for it.”

  Tasser turned his sorrowful gaze on his inquisitor. “I paid Fardein a commission for each item I bought and I have no doubt the thieves paid for his services as well. He also took some of the stolen items to silversmiths in other towns, men who, if the price was low enough, were not overnice of how he had come by them. I paid Roger a further commission for that service. He was more than content with the arrangement and had no reason to threaten me with exposure.” Tasser gave a great sigh. “I am sorry to say that Roger drank and whored away most of the money he earned, but he was a man with powerful urges and the extra income provided him with the means to satisfy them.”

  He paused for a moment, and then added, “It was Roger who persuaded me to have commerce with thieves in the first instance,” he said. “Why would he wish to lose what was, to him, a lucrative source of income by reporting me to the sheriff?”

  “Perhaps because he wanted more than just a small commission for selling the jewellery found in your hiding place,” Bascot replied. “They are costly items; worth far more than the other pieces you had stored there. Perhaps he wanted a larger cut and you murdered him in order to keep it all for yourself.”

  “That jewellery was not stolen,” Tasser burst out. “I bought it in good faith.”

  Bascot felt his pulse race a little. “It is not listed in the records you keep of such transactions,” he said harshly. “I have been through them all. There is no mention of the chain and pendant, rings or cloak clasp.”

  Tasser clamped his fleshy lips shut tight and looked away.

  “Well, silversmith, what do you have to say?” Bascot demanded. “If you bought them, as you say, in good faith, there should be a record of the purchase. I think they, like the other items, were stolen and you killed your apprentice in order to keep all the profit for yourself.”

  “No, no, I…” The silversmith swallowed hastily, and then said, “I purchased those pieces of jewellery recently, just before Christ’s Mass. I had not yet had time to enter them in my records.”

  “Then tell me from whom you bought them. I will go to the original owner and verify your claim.”

  Tasser shook his head in agitation. “Even if I tell you, it will not help clear me. The man who sold me the jewellery is dead.”

  “What is, or was, his name?”

  “Peter Brand,” the silversmith replied.

  “Apparently,Brand came to Tasser with the jewellery and claimed it was part of an inheritance left by his father,” Bascot told the sheriff, Richard Camville and Gilbert Bassett later that evening.

  “Brand also told the silversmith that while he was reluctant to sell the pieces, he needed money to enable him to get married and set up a home for him and his bride,” the Templar added. “Tasser admitted he thought the story had a false ring to it but because Brand was a respectable clerk in the mint, he had no basis to doubt it. Tasser also said he did not have any means of checking whether Brand’s claim was true since the clerk was from Grantham and not a local man whose family, and possible wealth, were known in Lincoln. The silversmith said he agreed to the purchase and had been intending to record the items in his inventory, but when Brand was found dead in the quarry, he became alarmed, worrying the jewellery was connected in some way to the clerk’s death. Tasser claims he then decided to hide it away with the other stolen items until he could be sure it was safe to dispose of it.”

  “Do you think the clerk’s claim of inheriting the jewellery is genuine?” Gerard Camville asked.

  “I doubt it, lord,” Bascot replied wryly. “De Stow told me Brand’s father was a tanner and left his widow destitute. It is not likely he would have owned such costly adornments.”

  “And Tasser’s tale-do you think he is telling the truth?” Bassett asked, scepticism written on his face.

  “I believe so,” Bascot replied slowly. “But only for the fact that if Tasser had come by the jewellery in some other way-especially if it was part of a trove-he would not have mentioned Brand at all. It would not have been hard for him to make up some tale that sounded plausible, such as buying them, through Fardein, from a thief whose identity he didn’t know.”

  Camville’s face was dark with anger. “Or he killed the moneyer’s clerk and, by saying it was Brand who sold him the jewellery, he is providing an explanation for his link to the dead man. If Fardein found out what his employer had done and was trying to extort payment for keeping silent, it would explain Tasser’s need to kill his apprentice.”

  “It is possible, I suppose, lord,” Bascot admitted reluctantly but, as he recalled the soft body of the silversmith, added, “but somehow I cannot see Tasser having the physical strength to creep up on two much younger, and stronger, men and kill them. Cunning he may be, but that type of bravado requires stealth and courage. I do not think Tasser possesses either.”

  Gerard snorted in derision but, well aware of Tasser’s physical weakness, accepted Bascot’s opinion could be valid.

  “You will either have to charge the silversmith with Fardein’s murder or let him go, Father,” Richard said. “Despite having been found in possession of stolen goods, he is a prominent citizen of Lincoln, not some wolf’s head captured in the greenwood. Even if he is not popular with other members of his guild, it is their duty to enquire after his welfare and ensure he is fairly treated. They will ask why he is being kept in the castle gaol and has not been allowed to stand surety for his appearance in your court.”

  “Richard is right, Gerard,” Bassett agreed. “If there is no evidence to prove that Tasser killed Fardein or Brand, you cannot keep him penned up indefinitely. It would be best to release him and let the possibility of a trove lie fallow for the moment. From what you have told me of Coroner Pinchbeck, he will be satisfied with a resolution of ‘by a person or persons unknown’ as a resul
t of your investigation into the murders, and consider that an end to the matter. If further information comes to light about a cache of valuables, you can pursue it later, and at your own discretion.”

  Camville reluctantly accepted the wisdom of his friend’s advice, but added, “I will keep Tasser confined for a few days longer, at least until Epiphany. After that, de Marins, I would have you question him again before I order his release. A few more days in the discomfort of the castle gaol may prompt him to reveal something he has so far kept hidden.”

  “As you wish, lord,” Bascot replied and then, since the road to Grantham was now reasonably clear, asked the sheriff if he wished him to go there and speak to the clerk’s mother and the girl Brand had hoped to marry.

  Camville shook his head. “No. I received a message from the town bailiff this morning. As soon as de Stow learned of Brand’s death, he sent a messenger to Grantham with a letter for the clerk’s mother. The courier was prevented from immediate return by the recent snowfall and just arrived back in Lincoln yesterday, but he told the moneyer-who passed the information along to the bailiff-that the mother and girl had made arrangements to travel to Lincoln and will arrive shortly. It is the mother’s intention, apparently, to take her son’s body back to Grantham for burial. You can speak to them both when they arrive.”

  Twenty-one

  On the fourth day of the new year, Nicolaa de la Haye rose early and sent for Eudo, her steward, to discuss the arrangements for the festivities to be held after the betrothal ceremony. After speaking to Eudo, she summoned the rest of the senior household staff. One by one, the cook, butler, table clothier, head usher and chandler reported on the sufficiency of supplies and the stage of their preparations. When she was confident all were carrying out their duties in a competent manner, she called John Blund and dictated some urgent letters, including one to the king, thanking him once again for allowing a liaison between her son and Gilbert Bassett’s daughter. The letter would take some time to reach the monarch, for King John had spent the season of Christ’s Mass at Argentan in Normandy, but Nicolaa knew that however long it took to reach him, it would please John to be reminded of her gratitude and loyalty.

  Before Blund left her chamber, Nicolaa asked how Stephen of Turville’s lessons were progressing. Blund’s faded blue eyes lit up with pleasure. “Very well, lady. Lambert has taken a great many notes and has already started work on the book of instruction I mentioned to you. We have great hopes of its efficacy. And Mistress Lucia told me that Stephen’s mother, Lady Maud, has now become most enthusiastic about the project and has, in turn, learned some of the movements. She is, apparently, most gratified by her new ability to communicate with her son, even if it is only in a limited fashion.”

  The secretary went on to tell Nicolaa that although Lambert was preparing an abridged copy of the manual for Stephen, Lady Maud had asked that a copy of the entire book be sent to the Turville household once it was completed. “I am sure there will be others who want a copy, lady,” he said and then became embarrassed for a moment before he added, “Lambert and I had thought to call it ‘A Manual of a Silent Language for those Afflicted with Muteness and Difficulty in Speaking’ and with your permission, we would like to dedicate it to you.”

  Nicolaa gave her faithful secretary a smile. “I would be honoured, John, although I fear I do not deserve such a compliment. I have had little to do with the compilation of the book.”

  Blund earnestly dismissed her objection. “Without your gracious permission for Lambert to spend time away from his duties to gather the information, lady, the manual would not have been possible. It is only right that your act of compassion be recognised.”

  Nicolaa thanked him and Blund left the room. Once he had gone, she poured herself a cup of hot spiced cider and sat down to enjoy a few moments of solitude. Such quietness had been rare these last few days for her time had been taken up with her guests and preparations for the betrothal. As she sipped the cider, she tried to mentally review the arrangements she had made but found that her conversation with Gerard the night before kept invading her thoughts like an unwanted guest. She had shared her husband’s frustration when Gerard told her that although the silversmith admitted he had bought the jewellery from Peter Brand, there was no evidence to link him to the clerk’s murder or discovery of a trove.

  “I am not convinced Tasser is uninvolved in either of these matters,” Gerard had said, “and I have asked de Marins to question him again in a few days, after the betrothal ceremony has taken place.”

  While they had not spoken of the ramifications that could devolve on Gerard if a trove was implicated in the deaths, it was on both of their minds. If King John learned that such important information had been suppressed by his sheriff, only the basest of motives would be attributed to keeping it a secret. She could only hope the Templar would, as he had done in the past, get to the truth of the matter and, in doing so, prove Gerard’s suspicions were without foundation.

  In the hall below, there was a great deal of activity as servants ran to and fro preparing the huge chamber for yet another round of feasting. Fresh rushes were placed on the floor, musicians tuned their instruments and casks of wine were trundled up and placed in the buttery to replenish those used over the preceding days. The chandler ordered his minions to remove all the candles that had burned down low and replace them with new ones while maidservants carefully laid freshly laundered cloths on the tables.

  In the midst of the hubbub, Ralph of Turville sat at a small table on one side of the hall, idly tossing a pair of dice over the chequered Quek board. He was bored-Gerard Camville had proclaimed himself too busy with the duties of the shrievality to arrange another hunt, Gilbert Bassett seemed content to keep his old friend company while he attended to these matters, and Richard Camville had gone off to ensure the betrothal ring he had ordered for Eustachia would be ready for the ceremony. Ralph’s wife, Maud, was ensconced in Nicolaa de la Haye’s solar with her female relatives and his son, Stephen, was busy practising the gestures he had been taught by the Templar’s mute servant, wanting to be well prepared for the lesson he would be given that afternoon.

  As Ralph cast about in his mind for some activity that would be entertaining, one of the sheriff’s retinue, a knight named Miles de Laxton, came walking toward him across the hall. They had played a few games of Quek together on the day of Christ’s Mass and quickly discovered they shared a passion for games of chance. Although the stakes had been only hazelnuts, they had both played as earnestly as if there were a pile of silver pennies to win, and had bemoaned the fact that Lady Nicolaa had disallowed richer stakes to be risked.

  Miles sat down on the other side of the Quek board, bid Ralph good morrow, and asked if he cared to spend a few hours in town. “There is a wine house near the Guildhall that serves an excellent vintage and offers patrons a variety of games of chance,” Miles said.

  “There are tables for Hazard, Bac Gamen, chess and Quek, as well as plain boards with seven- or eight-sided dice.”

  Ralph felt his spirits lift at the prospect, and then frowned as he remembered his promise to Maud that he would never gamble again. It had been only a few months before, and in just such a gaming house as Miles was suggesting they visit, that he had lost the whole of the money gained from the spring sheep shearing on their demesne. Since then, they had been almost in penury. Maud had sobbed uncontrollably when she found out what he had done, fearful he would lose not only their livelihood through his gambling, but also provision of any inheritance for Stephen. So far, he had kept his promise to her, but it had not been easy, and now the temptation to break his word was almost too much to resist.

  Miles, seeing his hesitation, thought it due to concern that the wine house might be a rough type of establishment and not seemly for a knight to patronise.

  “I can assure you those who frequent this wine house are not of low station,” he said. “The customers are mainly wealthy burgesses from Lincoln, but members of the
local nobility also go there.” Miles gave a wide grin and added, “There are toothsome harlots available in the rooms above, if such should be your fancy.”

  Ralph returned his smile, and his resolution wavered, but not because of the mention of prostitutes. “Bawds may be had anywhere,” he said, “but it is not often one can find a place where such a variety of games are offered.”

  “You will come, then?” Miles asked. “Sir Gerard has no need of my services at the moment and none of the other household knights take such pleasure in a game as you do.”

  Ralph thought of the meagre amount of silver coins he had in his scrip. They were all he had left after his disastrous losses of the previous summer. But, he reasoned, if fortune was with him, he might double, or perhaps even treble, their number, and if he did, Maud need never know he had not kept his word to her. He stood up and called for a page to bring his cloak.

  “Your suggestion is most welcome, Miles. I gladly accept your offer.”

  That afternoon, while Bascot was watching some of the squires at practise in the bail, a Templar man-at-arms came to the castle with a message from d’Arderon, requesting Bascot’s presence at the enclave. The son of a local knight had arrived at the preceptory requesting admission to the Order, and d’Arderon would appreciate it if Bascot would come today to meet the young knight and assist, the next morning, in testing the supplicant’s dedication.

  The ritual for initiation into the Templars dictated that the postulant be judged as to the sincerity of his desire by brothers of equal rank. This enquiry was held during a chapter meeting and it was preferable there were as many brothers present as possible. At present, there were only two men of knight’s rank in the commandery, d’Arderon and Emilius, a brother who fulfilled the function of draper. The preceptor wished Bascot to attend and add to their number.