“Whether it has or not, it can now be turned over to the Exchequer,” Camville said with satisfaction. “I will leave it to one of their officials to try and discover if there is an heir that may have a legitimate claim to the trove, or whether they are all dead.”
“I think we may have found the answer to that, Gerard,” Nicolaa said from the doorway. She and Richard entered the room, the castellan holding a piece of parchment in her hand.
When both Nicolaa and her son were seated and had full cups of wine in their hands, Bascot repeated, at the castellan’s request, the circumstances of how it had been discovered that it had not been Walter Legerton who had conspired with Cerlo but his assayer, Simon Partager. When he finished, the sheriff asked his wife what she had meant by her earlier statement that she knew who had secreted the cache.
“After de Marins and de Laxton left to arrest Legerton, Richard and I searched the castle archives-with John Blund’s help-for records of who had owned the property at Canwick in the days of King Stephen. I remembered my father saying that my grandsire had granted the fee of a Haye property there in perpetuity to the church of St. Clement as a gesture of thanks-giving for the birth of his son. I thought that if I consulted the record of his gift, it might also give the name of the people who held other properties in the area.”
This was a distinct possibility. Land was often delineated by naming those adjoining it and usually included the information of whether it was held in fee from a lord or the crown, and by whom.
Nicolaa took up the piece of parchment she had been holding. “John Blund found this. It is the record of my grandsire’s donation to the abbey and mentions a property-one arpent in size-on the northern border of the Haye land. It was a small property and is recorded to have been held in fee from the see of Lincoln by one Otto, minter to the crown.”
She looked up. “There were six mints in Lincoln in the days of King Stephen and Otto must have operated one of them. At that time the office of exchanger had not been instituted and moneyers not only produced the monarch’s coins, they also fulfilled the office of exchanging them for new. Because of Stephen’s tenuous hold on the throne and the unsettled state of the kingdom, the Exchequer was often unable to enforce the king’s edicts and there was much scope for reaping illegal profits. Silver was debased with other, less precious metals and many of the coins were of short weight. Barring the few that were caught and punished for these criminal acts-and not many were charged during Stephen’s reign-the rest became wealthy, mostly through embezzling royal funds. I think Otto must have been one of them. If he has any relatives still living, they would have a hard time proving he came by the contents of the trove legally.”
She pointed at the sacks of silver coins. “It is quite likely all of this money should have originally been paid into the royal coffers. It seems only just that now, after so many years, it will find its way to its true destination.” She glanced at her husband. “I think King John will be appreciative of your services in returning it, Gerard.”
Camville gave a snort of disbelief. “It is more likely he will want proof I did not remove any of it before I despatched it to the Exchequer.”
A flicker of annoyance for her husband’s disparagement of the king crossed Nicolaa’s face, but she did not voice her irritation, saying instead, “I cannot imagine that Legerton’s part in all this will be lightly glossed over by the royal officials. Even if he is innocent of keeping the discovery of the horde secret, Simon Partager was his employee and as such, Legerton must bear some of the responsibility for his dishonesty. I have no doubt that, at the very least, he will be dismissed from his post as exchanger and ordered to pay a heavy fine.”
Miles de Laxton gave a chuckle of amusement. “Legerton is deeply in debt already, lady. If he loses his post at the exchange and is fined as well, he will have no choice but to sell his manor house to settle his outstanding debts. That will force him to live in circumstances to which he is not accustomed.”
“I cannot feel any empathy for him,” Richard said. “He is an insufferably arrogant man. Perhaps this misfortune is God’s way of punishing him for his pride.”
“And for his infidelity,” Nicolaa added. “If Legerton had not been bedding Partager’s wife, the assayer would not have succumbed to the temptation of stealing the cache. I do not think either Partager or Cerlo were dishonest men at heart; it was desperation rather then avarice that drove them to commit their crimes.”
Thirty-three
The next morning dawned cold but clear. It was the last day Gilbert Bassett and his family-including Ralph of Turville, his wife and son-would spend as guests in Lincoln castle and the clement weather enabled Gerard Camville to hold the planned hawking party before their leave-taking.
As soon as the morning meal had been served, the hosts and their guests assembled in the bail and made ready to depart. Even young Stephen of Turville had been given leave to accompany the others, the only proviso his mother attached to her reluctant permission being that he kept his ears well covered. Horses were brought from the stables and a pack of rache and bercelet hounds, much smaller than the large dogs used to hunt boar or deer, came yapping and barking from the kennels. Finally the falconer entered the ward, his three assistants behind him, carrying the hooded raptors on portable leather-covered perches slung from their shoulders. The birds of prey were hooded and sat quietly, only one or two ruffling their feathers as they were carried forward and transferred to the gauntleted wrists of the nobles.
As the cavalcade started off through the western gate, Bascot and Gianni came through the small postern door in the northern wall of the bail. They had just been attending the service of Prime in the church of St. Clement. As they crossed the empty expanse of the ward, Roget came in through the eastern gate of the castle and hailed them.
“Hola, de Marins,” the captain called. “I have come to take Tasser back to the town gaol but, if you are agreeable, I have a wine of good vintage that I am willing to share before I do so.” The former mercenary patted the wineskin that hung from his belt.
“The silversmith is to be released today?” Bascot asked.
Roget nodded. “Sir Gerard sent word to me last night that I should collect him this morning, but he is to stay in custody in the town gaol until he has paid a surety. He is to be charged with profiting from the commission of robberies.”
Bascot agreed to drinking a cup of Roget’s wine-the captain had an uncanny knack of being in possession of fine vintages, which, the Templar knew, were often given him by merchants about the town in gratitude for his vigilance-but first sent Gianni to report for duty in the scriptorium.
The boy raced off with the speed of an arrow shot and as Roget watched him go, amazed at the hastiness of his departure, the Templar explained the reason for Gianni’s eagerness.
“He is anxious to help Lambert put the finishing touches on a manual of the gestures they have been teaching Ralph of Turville’s son, Stephen. The book is to be presented to Master Stephen tonight, after the evening meal, and both Gianni and Blund’s clerk are keen to have it as near to perfect as possible.”
Roget gave a chuckle of amusement. “Only clerks can be that much in love with their duties,” he said wryly. “If my men showed such devotion, I would think they were ailing with a sickness.”
The pair walked over to the barracks; neither of them had yet broken their fast and Ernulf would have some food to accompany Roget’s wine in his emergency rations.
They found the serjeant inside the long, low room that served as living quarters for the castle men-at-arms issuing orders to the soldiers that would be on guard duty on the castle walls that day. He welcomed Roget’s offer to share his wine and the three men went into the cubicle. Chunks of smoked bacon and slices of cheese from Ernulf’s store were laid out on a rough wooden trencher and Roget poured them all a cup of the wine he had brought. His boast of it being a good vintage had been a true one; it was full-bodied and smooth and, combined with the meat and cheese, made a good meal.