happenings far worse from some of those who had at first seemed inclined to be generous, to ever feel entirely comfortable with any other person.
He had even distrusted the Templar at first, although he had snatched the loaf of bread that Bascot had held out to him before running away to eat it. It was only when the Templar had come again the next day, this time with some cooked meat wrapped in a cloth, that Gianni had begun to feel that the one-eyed limping stranger meant him no harm. Bascot had laid the food down in the middle of the wharf among the pilings where Gianni spent his nights, then had moved a distance away, keeping at bay the other beggars clamouring for his largesse, until Gianni had crept from his hiding place and taken the bundle. With an amused grin, Bascot had watched while Gianni, his eyes flicking warily back and forth from the Templar to the hungry gaze of the other beggars, had wolfed down the contents of the parcel until there was none left. Still the Templar had not made a move that was threatening. He had just nodded his head and turned away. At a safe distance, Gianni had followed his benefactor and seen him turn into an inn near the docks. All night the boy had sat, waiting, until in the morning the Templar had reappeared and handed him a pear and some cheese.
From that day on, Gianni had never left the Templar’s side. He had been fed and clothed, taught to read and write, and had willingly clambered up behind his new master to travel on horseback the many days and nights it had taken to reach this strange land across the Narrow Sea. To Gianni, with only memories of pain and hunger throughout the duration of his young life, the Templar was a combination of the father he could not remember and the God he had never been able to find. Now, when de Marins went away from his company, the Palermo urchin was always uneasy until he returned.
Up on the dais, the old woman was again banging her stick and this time her voice carried clearly to Gianni. She was speaking to one of the two men who had come with her and seemed to be berating him.
“You Danish! Always the same, hold fast with one hand and reach to take more with the other. Sybil and Conal did not commit this crime, I tell you. If it is her dower property you are concerned with, then know that it will never be returned if she is found guilty. How can you think of oak trees when it is the honour of your family you should be defending?” The old lady banged the floor with her stick again. “She would have had short shrift at your board, Magnus. Neither you or Ailwin are known for your generosity.”
With this last riposte she threw back her head, causing the white linen of her old-fashioned headdress to flutter around her thin shoulders as she added another insult. “But what else can you expect from Danish stock? The people of Norway know that to their cost.”
Ailwin spoke again. “ Tante Hilde, your family and mine have all lived in England for many generations now. Let us forget these old feuds of our ancestors.”
“To forget one’s heritage is to take away the meaning of life,” the old woman expostulated. “I am the only member left of Conal’s father’s family, and he is the one that will carry on our name. For him I will fight with all the strength I have left.”
On saying this, the old woman pushed herself to her feet, using her cane as a lever. A woman servant of middle age rushed to her side from below the dais, but Hilde brushed her away and stood proudly erect. As she turned to leave, there was the sound of voices at the entrance to the hall and Conal and his mother came in, followed by Bascot and Ernulf.
Conal strode immediately to Hilde’s side, taking her in his arms and embracing her. “ Tante, I am pleased to see you.”
“And I you,” Hilde said as she reached up a gnarled hand and stroked his cheek. “You grow more like your father every day.”
Gently he led her back to her seat, then greeted his uncles. Sybil did the same, then both she and Conal sat down beside Hilde.
Gianni crept forward now, closer to where Bascot and Ernulf stood. Nicolaa de la Haye beckoned to the Templar and introduced him to her guests.
“These are Lady Sybil’s brothers, Ailwin and Magnus Redwison. Lady Hilde is great-aunt to Conal. His father was her nephew, her brother’s son.” She explained Bascot’s role in the matter of the crime with which Conal and his mother were charged. “Sir Bascot is gathering evidence to place before the judges at the assizes. It is to be hoped he will find some information that will prove your sister’s innocence, my lords,” she said to Magnus and Ailwin, “but so far, none has been forthcoming.” She looked at Bascot. “Unless, de Marins, there is something new since last we spoke…”
“Nothing, lady,” Bascot replied, “but neither is there anything to prove their guilt.”
“Exactly,” burst out Hilde, leaning forward and thumping her cane to emphasize her point. “That is because they have none. Tell me, Templar, have you found any indication of someone else’s involvement? Another party who would profit by this boy’s death? There are other heirs to de Kyme’s estates, are there not? A nephew and some cousins? Where were they when this deed was done? Does he have a leman who hopes to become his wife if he is free of Sybil?”
Bascot smiled at the old woman. He liked her forthright-ness and, since his visit to de Kyme that morning, her thoughts echoed his own. There were others beside Conal for whom the inheritance of the baron could provide a strong enough lure to tempt them to commit murder. But to interrogate persons of the status of de Kyme’s nephew and cousin might result in harsh complaints from them at such treatment, and needed to have the direct authority of the sheriff, not just that of Nicolaa de la Haye. In answering Lady Hilde, he chose his words carefully, in order not to offend the woman who had so generously given him a place in her retinue.
“So far, lady, my commission has been only to determine if your great-nephew and his mother could or could not have had the opportunity to commit the murders. But perhaps you are right, it may be worthwhile to look for another likely culprit. But to do so, I will need a warrant whose power will not be questioned. Many who are touched by this affair will not take kindly to my intervention otherwise.”
Lady Hilde immediately understood the delicacy of his words and swung her piercing gaze on Nicolaa. “The truth must be found, and it is the duty of the sheriff to ensure that it is. And your’s also, Lady Nicolaa, as keeper of the king’s castle and his peace. Will you persuade your husband to this course?”
Nicolaa considered the suggestion, not taking offence at the imperiousness in the older woman’s tone and the unnecessary reminder of the obligations of her office. Finally she nodded in agreement. “There is sense in what you say, de Marins. And, since Conal is of knight’s rank, there should be no complaint if those of equal status are questioned. I have no doubt Gerard will agree. He is as anxious as I to have this matter resolved. I pledge the warrant in his stead, and those here are witness to my words. May God give you His divine assistance.”
So saying, she rose from her seat, tired of the subject and the wrangling that had accompanied it, but conscious also of the courtesy due her guests. “I have no doubt we can all do with a brief rest before the evening meal. There are chambers above that you may consider your own while you are in Lincoln and my servants are at your bidding.”
Ailwin and Magnus sighed with relief at the dismissal, and Conal assisted his great-aunt to her feet and helped her down the two shallow stairs to the floor of the hall. As they passed Bascot, the old lady paused. “You are a man of honour, Templar, I think. It would please me if, when you have finished your duties for the day, you would attend me. It might prove profitable for us to have speech together on this matter.”
Bascot had been amused by the manner in which Hilde had spoken to the others for, although haughty, she had comported herself with courage and a keen perception. And, he surmised, she was driven by an honest intent that was laudable. Her request to him had been couched in a more conciliatory fashion and he was intrigued by her wish to speak to him privately. He decided to humour her and nodded politely; assuring her he would do as she wished. Gianni, now standing beside him, stared with fascination at the silver raven’s head on the top of her cane as, leaning heavily on Conal’s arm, Hilde went slowly from the hall.
It was late in the evening before Bascot began the ascent up the stairs to the chamber where Lady Hilde awaited him. The Templar was tired and his leg ached from the riding he had done that morning, and also from his walk to the priory that afternoon after he had left the company in the hall. The purpose of his visit had been to see if the priest, Father Anselm, was showing any signs of recovery. Brother Jehan led him to the injured man’s bed, explaining that his patient had still not regained consciousness and from lack of any sustenance except for a few mouthfuls of honeyed wine dribbled into his mouth, was likely to remain so until death should take him.
“It is a strange irony that his wound has finally begun to heal,” the infirmarian said. “It is almost as though he remains unconscious of his own choosing.”
