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 result 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.”