“What of those whose ransoms made up the hoard?” Kevin asked. “Would they not have a claim?”
“In justice, perhaps, but not I think in law, for paying a ransom is itself illegal, as assisting the crime of kidnaping.”
Kevin was surprised. “I broke the law when I paid my family’s ransom?”
I waved a hand. “You are also in contravention of the law if you wrestle a bear, dye sheep or goats, or bury a sorcerer in a cemetery. I know of no one who has been prosecuted for such an offense, or for paying a ransom.”
Kevin was puzzled. “Why would you dye a sheep?”
“To pass it off as some other kind of sheep, I suppose.”
Kevin considered this, then shook his head. “We know not what claims may be made against this hoard if we find it.”
“Yet”—I smiled—“there can be no disposition unless we find it.”
“I think you may lead us into danger.”
“Let us make inquiries. It will do no harm to ask questions.”
“Asking questions,” he sighed, “is exactly where so much mischief begins.”
But he accompanied me to the gangboard of the Star of the North, and there asked the chief mate if the authorities had come for his passenger’s belongings. They had, he said, but they found nothing, as the passenger had been unable to sleep with the constant noise of repairs, and had taken himself and his servant ashore. The passenger had called himself Morland, and was only revealed to be the outlaw Sir Basil by those who had come aboard to search his cabin.
Sir Basil had called himself Morland when he was trying to convince me I’d captured the wrong man. I asked the mate if he knew where his passenger lodged, but he knew nothing. So, I began a search of the nearby inns, providing both a name and a description, not only for Sir Basil, or Morland, but Hazelton. I had no luck.
Then I remembered that Sir Basil had come down to the quay from the city’s square, then turned right before I apprehended him. And there we had met Hazelton—which might have been pure coincidence, but also might mean that the two of them were lodging in that vicinity.
So, I retraced my steps, and found the inn before which Sir Basil had died. No one there knew him, so I went through the district, asking anyone who might have lodgers if they had a visitor.
Finally, I found a very deaf old lady who sat before her small alehouse, enjoying the sun and the traffic that bustled back and forth along the quay. The ground floor was home to a cordwainer’s shop, but the two floors above seemed to be someone’s residence. I bought a pot of ale.
“Good morning, mother,” said I. “Have you any lodgers?” Then had to repeat myself twice before she understood me.
“I have four lodgers. Two soldiers from the garrison, my grandson, and another gentleman. And only this last pays me a rent.”
“Is that Master Morland?”
“Ay,” said she, “but I have not seen him today, nor his varlet neither.”
“He has been invited to lodge with my master,” said I, into the old lady’s ear. “I am come to pay the charges, and to take his belongings.”
The old lady was pleased to hear she was to be paid. “The governor’s billeted two soldiers on me,” she said, “and I am obliged to feed them, and not a penny comes with them. Surely not even the usurper would despoil me so.”
I sympathized, and helped her rise from her chair. In a great roaring voice she called for a man named Alfred, who came out of the cordwainer’s shop in his apron, the sun gleaming off his bald head. Alfred was told to take Kevin and me upstairs to Master Morland’s room, and help me pack, while she made out the bill. We went up the narrow stair to a garret, and were obliged again to explain why we were taking Morland’s belongings.
“Who is your master, then?” Alfred asked, as he produced the keys.
“An old friend of Morland’s,” I said. “Sir Andrew de Berardinis.”
Kevin gave me a look of horror at this, but the governor’s was the only name I could think of at that instant. Besides, Sir Basil was in a manner of speaking the guest of the governor, even though the lodgings would not have been to his liking.
Alfred turned the keys and opened the low, narrow door. “You know my grandmother is billeting two soldiers without pay,” he said. “She was depending on Morland’s money to make ends meet.”
“The Estates General is meeting in Selford,” I said vaguely. “These money matters are their province.”
Sir Basil’s room was small and damp, with a fireplace that smelled of two-day-old cinders. It was probably the best place available in a city full of soldiers. The bed was narrow, and apparently Sir Basil shared it with Hazelton, for there was no room elsewhere—the place was filled to the rafters with trunks, bags, and crates. My heart leaped at the sight, and the thought of Sir Basil’s treasure-trove, but I put on a face of distress and dismay.
“I wasn’t told that Morland had so much gear.” I turned to Kevin. “Go down and find us some fellows to help us carry this.”
Kevin left, and Alfred and I started shifting boxes and bags into the hallway. There were a few loose articles of clothing, and some finely made items such as hair- and toothbrushes, and these I put in a bag. While Alfred was moving boxes into the hall, I searched the pillows, and looked under the mattress to see if anything had been hidden there, but I found nothing.
Kevin arrived with some sailors from the Meteor, and the outlaws’ dunnage was carried down the stair. I left last of all, which allowed me to search the bed again, as well as the frame of the little hemispherical window, the hearth, the chamber pot, and the low rafters. Finding nothing, I went down to the ground floor, where the old landlady presented me with her bill.
The sum was outrageous enough that I felt obliged to protest, even though it might well have been fair, given the scarcity of lodging in the city. I was eventually granted a small reduction, so I paid and insisted on having a receipt so that I could be reimbursed by Morland. After which we carried our booty to Meteor’s cabin and began our search.
There was, first of all, no treasure. I found a bag filled with fifty crowns, to pay for expenses on the voyage, and another bag with a few gold rings too wide for Sir Basil’s narrow fingers—the general lack of gems and jewelry was understandable, since I’d already stolen every jewel I’d found in the outlaw treasury. The weightiest of the bags held beautifully crafted armor, all with the dimple-marks certifying the pieces were proof against gunshot. There were several broadswords, two with gold wire inlay, two pairs of heavy horse-pistols, and one small pocket pistol. I felt grateful that Sir Basil hadn’t been carrying this last when I encountered him.
Many of the bags held only clothing, for the most part dazzling satins, silks, and velvets suitable for making a show at court, or for playing peacock among the highest in the country. Both these and the armor I assumed came from prisoners, most likely members of Stayne’s party.
I also found Lord Utterback’s slinkskin gloves, which I decided to return to him when I next saw him.
“Was Sir Basil tall?” Kevin asked. “Would the armor suit you?”
I laughed. “I have no plans to join the army!”
“You plan to go privateering, do you not? You would cut a great swashing figure on the quarterdeck.”
“And attract the enemy’s fire, no doubt.”
“Which the armor would repel. Do you not see the proof marks?”
I scorned this simplistic notion. “Only a fool trusts a proof mark. I’ll test the breastplate myself, with one of those pistols, ere I trust it in the war in which I have no desire to fight.”
To please Kevin, I tried the armor on. Sir Basil and I were of a height, but I had broader shoulders, and the armor pinched above the arms.