The chapel was, indeed, very cold and both Bascot and Richard felt the heaviness of the chill as they walked to where the corpse was lying. Candles had been placed at each end of a temporary bier and by their flickering light the face of the dead man could be seen. The death rictus had not yet faded but, due to the fact that Tercel had fallen in a prone position at the moment of his demise, his body lay relatively flat and in a semblance of rest.
“The remains will be taken outside the ward to the church of St. Clement this evening,” Richard told Bascot. “The priest will hold a Mass for the care of his soul and my aunt and Alinor, along with the other servants in their retinue, can go and offer their respects if they wish. The body will remain there until we know where it is to be buried.” St. Clement was the small church just outside the castle walls to the north and the one attended by the soldiers of the garrison as well as most of the household staff.
Bascot removed the cloak covering the corpse. The murdered man looked to have been in his mid-twenties, of slim proportions, and well muscled in a wiry fashion. Although the jaw gaped open, it could be seen that his features had been pleasing, with high cheekbones and a strong chin. The mouth, despite the unnatural contortion of the death stiffening, still retained a sensuous fullness. But it was difficult, without life’s animation, to determine the personality of the man that had once inhabited what was now only a deteriorating earthly shell.
The Templar noticed that he seemed to have taken care of his appearance. His reddish blond hair and short beard were neatly trimmed and had been smoothed with a pomade that had a strong aroma of sage. His clothes, which were of a moderate quality becoming to an upper servant in a baron’s household, had been carefully chosen. He was clad in a dark blue tunic of heavy wool that complemented his pale colouring and the belt around his waist was of soft red leather tooled with spiral decorations, as were the shoes on his feet. Only the gaping hole made by the crossbow bolt in the cloth over his chest, and the traces of blood surrounding the tear, marred the neatness of his aspect.
Bascot noticed a glint of gold at the neck of the dead man’s tunic and pushed the collar aside to examine it more closely. It was a gold chain and when he pulled it free, discovered a ring depending from it, a heavy gold band surmounted by the design of a crossed knot. “An expensive piece of jewellery for a servant,” he remarked to Richard, and then, as he turned the ring to the light of the candles, noticed there was an engraving on the inside of the band-a crescent moon with the points facing upwards and half encircling a small star. Both symbols were often used separately by the noble class, but it was not common to see them in concert. The Templar remembered seeing this combination only once before, and, when he passed it to the sheriff’s son, so did Richard.
“That is the design Lionheart used on his great seal,” he exclaimed, using the soubriquet by which the late King Richard had been commonly known. “Why would my aunt’s cofferer be wearing a ring engraved with a royal motif?”
Bascot shrugged. “Lionheart was generous and it would not surprise me if he had given the ring to a retainer as a reward for service, even if the recipient was a commoner. Perhaps Tercel came by it as a gift of inheritance from some family member.”
“You could be right,” Richard agreed. “I shall ask my aunt about it.”
“Was his scrip on him when he was found?” Bascot asked.
Richard nodded. “Alinor has taken charge of it. The money that was given into his care was all accounted for, with the expenditures that had been made on my aunt’s behalf since she arrived in Lincoln listed on a piece of parchment and kept with the coins that remained-a sum of just over two pounds.”
“Then, since the money was not taken, robbery could not have been the motive for the murder,” Bascot said and pulled the cloak back up to the dead man’s chin. “We must seek elsewhere for the reason.”
They left the chapel and went back up to the hall where the serving of the midday meal was just about to begin. Making their way to the table set on the dais, Richard took a seat alongside his mother, and Bascot a place between Petronille and her daughter farther along the large oaken board.
The castellan’s sister welcomed him warmly. The Templar had been of great assistance to her family in the past and she expressed her relief that he had come to their aid once again. “I cannot fathom why anyone would wish my servant dead, Sir Bascot,” she said. “But I hope you will be just as successful in seeking out this murderer as you have in catching similar villains in times past.”
“So do I, lady,” Bascot said with heartfelt sincerity. “To take another’s life without just cause is an abomination.”
As the first course, wooden platters of sliced venison set round about with a selection of boiled vegetables, was placed in front of them, the Templar let his eye roam over the company at the tables below. He saw Gianni seated among the upper servants of the household alongside John Blund and Lambert, the latter a senior clerk who was Blund’s assistant. The boy gave the Templar a shy smile which Bascot returned. At the table reserved for the household knights, he saw an unfamiliar face and asked Petronille if the stranger was attached to her retinue.
“Yes,” she replied. “That is Hugh Bruet. My husband gave him charge of leading our escort to Lincoln and staying here with us until it was time for our return to Stamford.”
“And the rest of your entourage, lady,” Bascot asked, “how many are they?”
“We came with four men-at-arms under Bruet’s direction, and I brought with me a maidservant who is also my sempstress, along with another young maid that is attendant to Alinor. Originally there was also, of course, my dead cofferer.”
“Richard says he will use his father’s private chamber for interviewing our servants,” Alinor said to Bascot from her seat beside him. “I have told them to go to the back of the hall after the meal is over and wait until they are summoned.
“I shall sit in with you and my cousin while you speak to them, Sir Bascot,” Alinor added determinedly. “As Tercel was a member of our household, his murder is an affront to my father’s good name and, since my mother has given her permission, I intend to stand in his place in the matter.”
Bascot smiled inwardly. Although his young son’s death had deprived Richard de Humez of a male heir, Alinor, like her aunt, had more than enough courage to step into his place.
The first in Petronille’s retinue to be interviewed was Hugh Bruet, the knight that Bascot had noticed at table in the hall. Gianni had been summoned to take notes of any relevant details and was perched on a stool in the corner with his wax tablet on his knee. The chamber they were in was a large one, containing a bed covered with wolfskins, spare tack for horses and, on a table to one side of the room, a magnificent chessboard set with playing pieces. When Bruet came into the room, he glanced around him and gave a nod of appreciation for the masculine accoutrements.
He was a man of middle years with a stocky build that swelled with hard muscle and it was easy to see why de Humez had chosen him for the task of escorting his wife and daughter on their journey. Bruet had a battle-hardened look about his person that would quickly deter any outlaws foolish enough to attack the cavalcade he led. He stood easily in front of Bascot, Richard and Alinor and, when asked about his knowledge of Tercel’s activities during the time the de Humez party had been in Lincoln, admitted that he had little.
“The only times I had occasion to be in the cofferer’s company was on our journey here and, after our arrival, when we all attended services in the cathedral during Christ’s Mass,” he said gruffly. “If he went into town I would not be aware of it; my duties lie in overseeing the safety of Lady Petronille and Lady Alinor; all else is without my province and beyond my interest.”