Now the crowd was strengthened by some villagers who had been attracted by the noise and the priest had emerged from his dwelling on the other side of the churchyard to witness the destruction of his property. Thomas hurried to console him, but he seemed unperturbed.
‘It is the will of God!’ he cried philosophically, crossing himself, content in the knowledge that the manor would have to rebuild it for him, hopefully a better one than the decrepit structure that was now burning merrily.
Ranulf, now fully awake but rubbing his eyes sleepily, decided that they themselves must have been the cause of the fire.
‘Blame the damned pig!’ he muttered. ‘Must have been a spark that flew up from our fire that landed in the thatch and smouldered until it caught hold. I’d best give them a couple of marks in compensation — I’ll get it back from the palace when we return.’
John went over to the wagon and paced around it suspiciously, under the uneasy eyes of the four sentinels. He suspected that they had all been fast asleep, as their recognition of the burning barn had been remarkably slow.
‘Have you seen or heard anything untoward?’ he demanded of them. They denied seeing anything out of the ordinary and when a now more wakeful Ranulf and Aubrey came across to join him, they checked the two chests and saw nothing wrong. Before long, the first streaks of dawn appeared in the eastern sky and it seemed pointless to try to settle back to sleep. When it was full light, the soldiers went off to the stream to drink and splash their sleepy faces with cold water. By then, it was time to round up the horses and prepare to continue the journey. De Wolfe was still anxious about the treasure chests and studied the locks more closely.
‘No one seems to have tampered with them,’ muttered Gwyn, looking over John’s shoulder at the pair of large iron padlocks on each box. They were covered with a thin patina of rust, in which no fresh scratches were visible around the keyholes to suggest any attempt had been made to pick them.
Eventually satisfied that they had not been robbed, the cavalcade moved off, leaving a village glad to see the back of them. Having had no breakfast, the troop and their officers were all pleased to reach Kingston, where they were able to eat and drink at the manor house, then set off on the last leg of the journey to London. Their slow journey kept them south of the Thames all the way to Southwark, where in the early evening their tired horses clattered over the old wooden bridge into the city. The oppressive heat had declined during the days since they had left for Hampshire and it remained pleasantly warm as they plodded the last half-mile through busy streets along the north bank to the Tower. The grim grey rectangle stood high above a confusion of construction around its base, as Hubert Walter was busy carrying out the Lionheart’s orders to encircle the keep with a retaining wall and a moat. They picked their way through mounds of stone blocks and heaps of sand and lime, where masons and labourers were still working overtime to build a twenty-foot rampart, further evidence of the royal mistrust of the citizens of London.
‘Our chests should be safe enough inside this lot!’ jested Ranulf, as they dodged under wooden derricks and tripods hauling stones to the top of the growing wall. Once close to the Tower itself, the construction chaos ceased and they drew their cart up to an arched entrance in the north face of the cliff-like tower. Here a brace of guards with spears stood each side of the big doors which led into an undercroft, partly below ground level. The entrance to the upper floors was up a nearby flight of wooden stairs, the usual defence mechanism to prevent easy access during a siege, as the steps could be thrown down in minutes.
‘Now what happens?’ grunted John, tired of sitting on his horse for so many hours. As if in answer to his question, a wicket gate in the large doors opened and several men stepped out into the evening sunshine. He recognised one as Simon Basset, a senior Treasury official, for he had once sat next to him in the Lesser Hall. The other two seemed to be Tower officers, in severe military-looking tunics with the three royal lions embroidered on their surcoats. Each had a large sword swinging from a belt and baldric. John and the two other knights-marshal dismounted and went to meet the men, apologising for the delay in their arrival and explaining the problem with the cracked wheel-hub. De Wolfe thought it pointless to mention the fire, which appeared to have no relevance to their journey.
Simon Basset was a portly cleric, still a canon of Lichfield Cathedral. He had climbed the Westminster ladder during old King Henry’s time and was now one of the senior administrators in the Treasury. Though he had met him only twice, John felt that Basset was an astute royal servant, as well as being a pleasant, amiable character, with a round face and pink cheeks.
‘What’s to be done with these damned boxes?’ asked the coroner. ‘We’ve guarded them like precious babes all the way from Winchester. I’ll be glad to see them safely housed, so that we can stop looking over our shoulders at every corner!’
Simon motioned to the two gate guards to open one leaf of the heavy, studded doors. ‘We’ll get the chests taken inside right away, Sir John. They’ll not be here more than a few days, as we are waiting for a king’s ship to take them over to Rouen.’
John guessed that the sale of the gold and silver was needed to pay the Lionheart’s troops and to finance the endless need for food and fodder for the large army.
The soldiers from their escort began sliding the large boxes from the wagon and carrying each between four men down the ramp into the undercroft. De Wolfe, together with Aubrey and Ranulf, followed the Treasury official and his two companions into the gloomy basement and across to another locked door which was lit by guttering flares stuck in rings on the wall. They went along a passage to yet another heavy door, where one of the Tower officers produced a large key. He let them into a small chamber devoid of any windows or other openings, obviously deep in the bowels of the Conqueror’s fortress. A soldier brought another flaring pitch-brand and by its light John could see that half a dozen other chests were lined against the walls.
‘All destined for Normandy!’ observed Simon Basset, as they watched the two new boxes being added to the collection.
‘I presume I leave the keys with you?’ growled de Wolfe, feeling in his pouch for the heavy bunches that he was only too happy to be rid of.
‘What about checking the contents?’ asked Ranulf. ‘The inventory was certified correct when we left Winchester, but I wouldn’t want any loss to be alleged while the chests were in our care.’
Simon smiled benignly. ‘Very commendable, sir. I was going to do that very thing now.’ He held out his hand for the four keys, which de Wolfe handed over with some relief. Now he noticed that each key had a dab of coloured paint on the ring of its stem, which corresponded with a similar blob on the face of each lock.
‘I will keep the keys for one lock on each chest,’ said the Treasury man, sliding two of them off the wire loop that held them. ‘The other two will be given straight away to the Constable of the Tower. Neither of us — nor anyone else — can open them alone.’
Contradicting his own statement — but under the eyes of half a dozen watchers — Simon Basset used the four keys to open each of the padlocks and hoisted back the heavy lids, which were held upright by leather straps. He produced a roll of parchment from inside his black robe and held it so that the flaring light from the torch fell upon the lists written in ornate black script.
‘This was sent from Winchester by a royal messenger on a swift horse after you left and arrived yesterday,’ he explained. ‘It is the manifest which was made immediately before the chests left the castle there.’
The two knights from the Tower garrison squatted at the side of the one of great boxes and checked the bags of money. They did not count the actual coins, but confirmed the number of bags and the fact that the red wax seal with the impression of the ring of the Exchequer official was intact. Then they turned to the smaller chest which held the gold, silver and jewelled objects. As the treasurer called out a description of each piece, they rooted around in the contents. Smaller items were wrapped in pieces of velvet or silk. Some lay in leather bags closed with purse-strings, but larger objects such as silver candlesticks, a heavy gold torc, a thick Celtic necklace and some massive silver belt-buckles, were loose amongst the other treasures.