Once the former mercenary had left the room, Camville motioned for Bascot to be seated and poured them both a cup of wine.
“I am certain the coin found in the quarry and the jewellery are part of a hidden cache,” the sheriff said as he resumed his pacing up and down the room, eschew ing the comfort of a sturdy chair covered with padded lamb skin. “The silversmith must know its whereabouts. Are you certain there are no more valuables hidden on his premises?”
“Not completely, lord,” Bascot replied. “The first time we went there, we only searched the rooms, and today, with the failing daylight, we could not examine the fabric of the building in any detail. I would like to return tomorrow morning with my servant. He has sharp eyes and, in previous investigations, has noticed details I have missed. It was he who found the coin.”
“Do so, Templar,” Gerard said. “Pinchbeck, the coroner, has not yet returned to Lincoln but if he does, and learns of my suspicion that an unreported trove is involved in these crimes, he will take the matter out of my hands and leap to the chase like one of my deer-hounds. I would prefer he remain in ignorance until I am certain of all the facts. Report to me after you have searched the silversmith’s dwelling. His interrogation can wait until you have done so. Perhaps a few hours of confinement will loosen his tongue.”
“Even if Tasser has knowledge of a cache, I am not certain he is guilty of Fardein’s murder. His surprise when I charged him with the crime seemed genuine.”
“Nonetheless, he knows where that jewellery came from. Get him to reveal the provenance of it, de Marins, and the identity of the murderer may also be unmasked.”
The next morning Bascot was up and had pulled on his boots by the time the cathedral bells rang out the hour of Matins at daybreak. Rousing Gianni, the pair went down to St. Clement to attend Mass and then back to the keep and up the stairs to the scriptorium. Gianni, still slightly bemused from having spent an hour in close proximity to Lucia the evening before, tried to focus his attention on the errand his master had told him they were to perform today. The night before, the Templar had told Gianni he was to accompany his master to the silversmith’s manufactory the next morning and conduct a thorough search of the premises. He also related the purpose of the scrutiny. Well aware of the importance of the errand, and the privilege of being in the confidence of his master and the sheriff, Gianni knew it was important to show diligence. Resolutely he pushed his reveries of Lucia aside as they went to tell John Blund that Gianni would be absent from his duties for the day.
The chamber that housed the scriptorium was a large one, with high casements along the outside wall to admit the morning light. When Bascot and Gianni entered the room, Blund and Lambert were poring over some pages laid on a lectern.
They both looked up at Bascot’s entrance and a welcoming smile spread over the secretary’s genial features. “Sir Bascot! You are well come. I am just inspecting the work Lambert has done on the book I told you about, the one describing Gianni’s gestures. Lambert has done a fine job. Perhaps you would like to see it.”
He passed the sheets of medium-grade vellum to the Templar, and Bascot saw that Blund’s praise was well merited. On each page there was a drawing of one or both hands, the fingers curved to depict the motion to be used. Underneath was a notation in Latin of how the hands should be held-whether palm outward, upward or in conjunction with each other-and the meaning of the signal. The drawings had been outlined with a quill sharpened to a fine point and the inscriptions were in clear and careful script. Bascot added his praise of the work to Blund’s, and Lambert flushed with pleasure.
“Since Master Stephen will only be here until after the betrothal ceremony, I have asked permission from Lady Nicolaa to give him another lesson tonight,” Blund said, “and one again tomorrow, perhaps in the daytime. Milady is most impressed with the book and asked Lambert to make an abridged copy of the work so the youngster can take it with him when he returns home.” A frown creased the secretary’s brow as he looked worriedly at the Templar. “I should also have asked your permission, Sir Bascot, for Gianni to attend the extra lessons. Please forgive my negligence, I beg of you.”
Bascot smiled and quickly allayed Blund’s fear of giving offence. “I am more than willing for Gianni to assist in the task. If his efforts, and yours, can benefit others such as Stephen, it is my Christian duty to aid you in the enterprise. You may avail yourself of Gianni’s help as often as you like.”
As Blund began to express his gratitude for the Templar’s offer, Bascot interrupted him. “I fear, having given my assent, I must make one exception to the use of Gianni’s time. I have need of his services this morning but will ensure he is available for this evening’s lesson.”
“Of course, Sir Bascot,” Blund replied. “You have my thanks for your generosity.”
Noting the broad smile that lit Gianni’s face at mention of a few more hours in Lucia’s company, the Templar and the boy left the scriptorium and went down into Lincoln town.
Nineteen
As Bascot and Gianni were making their way to the silversmith’s manufactory, Iseult lay beside her husband in the small sleeping chamber they shared in the cramped lodgings above the mint. The room was cold and she shivered as she tried to find some warmth in the heavy layer of quilts covering her. She had not slept well, too irritated by the memory of the dismal reception her story of Tasser’s arrest had elicited from both Legerton and her husband.
It had been almost time for the evening meal to be served when Iseult and the maidservant returned. Not able to contain her exciting news, Iseult blurted it out as soon as the men came upstairs from the exchange, not even waiting until the servant girl had a chance to pour them each a cup of wine. Iseult had expected that Legerton, at least, would pay attention as she told of how fearful Tasser had looked and repeated the comments she had heard from the bystanders, but the exchanger’s only response had been a tightening of his lips and a pretense of disinterest. Even her husband, Simon, had paid her words no mind; merely gave a nod to signify he had heard and turned away.
Frustrated by their attitude, Iseult went next door to the moneyer’s house, hoping that Blanche de Stow would be willing to engage in gossip about the silversmith’s arrest. But when she was ushered into de Stow’s hall, she found that Blanche had, like herself, been among the crowd of spectators that witnessed Tasser’s downfall. Just as disappointing was that neither Blanche nor her husband seemed interested in speculating about his crimes and had even gone so far as to show a disinclination for her company, begging her to excuse their lack of hospitality by claiming to be tired and intent on retiring early.
Iseult found it all most confusing. Later, after enduring an evening of dull conversation between Legerton and Simon about work in the exchange, Iseult snuggled up to her husband in bed, hoping to enjoy a marital romp to relieve the tedium. But he turned his back on her, feigning tiredness. It was an excuse he had lately begun to use, but Iseult was not completely surprised. He had proved to be a disappointing lover right from the first days of their marriage. Their wedding night had been the only time Simon seemed greedy for her body, and even then he had been reticent, especially after she made a pretense of pain when he supposedly ruptured her maidenhead.
All these thoughts had caused her to toss and turn restlessly, angry there was no one interested in her news, or her charms, annoyed by the coldness of the weather and the chamber, and disappointed by the absence of the draper’s son when she had gone to his father’s shop. She was bored beyond her patience and knew the only remedy for it would be to visit her sister, Lisette. She was not close to her elder sibling-Lisette was cut in the mould of their father, sanctimonious and disapproving of what she called her sister’s “ill-advised behaviour”-but at least she would be interested in a firsthand accounting of Tasser’s arrest. Even though Lisette was a prig she did, for all that, like to indulge in a bit of gossip.