one from the foundling home? I think he may have. I saw the serjeant return with a red-headed youngster in tow just a short while before Elise was brought into the bail…”
His words were cut off as Bascot dug his spurs deep into the sides of his mount and urged the horse forward up the sharp incline of Steep Hill towards the castle. For a moment, a bewildered Bruet looked after him and then, putting his heels to his own mount, he followed in the Templar’s wake.
Twenty-seven
In the castle solar, lady Nicolaa rose from her seat. “The midday meal will soon be served below. Let us leave discussing this matter for the moment and take some sustenance. Perhaps food will sharpen our wits.”
She called to where Ernulf and Willi were standing. “Take the boy with you, Ernulf, and let him eat at your table. Afterwards, you may bring him back here.”
The serjeant did as he was bid, placing his meaty hand on Willi’s shoulder in a kindly fashion and motioning with his head for the boy to leave the room. When they entered the hall, Ernulf told the boy to go to the back of the huge chamber where some of the off-duty men-at-arms were already seated while he got them both a mug of ale. “You’ll be safe enough in the soldiers’ company, lad,” he said to Willi. “Go and tell them I said you were to sit in the middle of the bench.”
As Ernulf moved towards the ale keg that sat at the rear of the hall, Willi looked around. No one was near him and the door into the keep was ajar, the attendant who manned it distracted by a conversation he was having with another servant. Without giving himself time to ponder the wisdom of his decision, Willi darted between the tables and, weaving his way through the trail of servants bearing platters from the kitchen, slipped through the opening. Once outside, he sped down the steps of the forebuilding and started across the bail. The eastern gate of the castle stood wide open, and no gateward was in sight. Taking a deep breath, he started towards it, rushing past members of the outside household staff making their way to the hall for the midday meal, when suddenly his footsteps faltered and he came to a halt. Just a few paces in front of him was the woman he had seen outside the armoury on the night of the murder and, from her grim smile, he knew that she recognised him. Before he could run around her, she stepped forward and grasped him tightly by the shoulder.
“So, you are the boy that will be my death warrant,” she said. “I think it would be best if I forestall that event.”
Without another word she dragged him across the ward and into the old tower, pushing him ahead of her up the stairs. “We will hide in here until everyone is in the hall and then, my lad, you and I are going to leave the bail. If you behave yourself, I will let you go once we are outside the castle walls.”
Willi struggled to free himself, but her grip was like iron. Behind him he heard a shout and knew the voice was Ernulf’s. The boy tried to yell out to the serjeant, but the woman clamped her hand across his mouth and the words died unspoken. “If you don’t keep quiet, you will suffer the consequences,” she warned and Willi saw light flash on the blades of a pair of scissors she had drawn from the scrip at her belt. “I have killed once already, and will not hesitate to do so again. Do you understand, boy?”
Willi nodded his head mutely as she dragged him into the tower and shut the door behind them.
Bascot and Bruet rode into the bail just as Willi was being dragged into the old tower by his captor. As they rode into the ward, the Templar noted the movement of the door, which was not far from the gate and on his sighted side, but was so intent on reaching the hall that he gave it no more than a fleeting glance. As he slid from his horse, he saw Ernulf standing in the middle of the bail looking frantically around him. Running down the steps of the forebuilding to the keep were two men-at-arms who, once they reached the bottom, ran over to where the serjeant was standing. Ernulf looked shaken and Bascot asked him what was amiss.
“The boy, Willi, we found him this morning and brought him back to the castle, but now he’s run away again,” Ernulf said, his breath ragged. “Did you see him when you came through the gate?”
The Templar shook his head. “Did he tell you whether or not he saw the murderer?”
“Yes,” Ernulf replied. “He says it was a woman and he’d know her if he saw her again, but he doesn’t know who she is. Lady Nicolaa told me to keep him safe until he can identify her, and now he’s gone. I’ve got to find him.”
Bascot’s heart sank as he heard the serjeant proclaim the gender of the murderer. It had to be Margaret that the boy had seen. His thoughts tumbled furiously as Ernulf turned to the men-at-arms and ordered them to search the bail. “Every shed and storehouse, and look in the kitchen as well…”
Bascot cut the serjeant’s words off in mid-flow. “Where is Margaret, Lady Petronille’s sempstress?” he asked tersely.
Distracted, and in haste to be off, Ernulf stumbled over his reply. “Margaret? I don’t know. She wasn’t in the solar, and I didn’t see her in the hall. I think I remember Lady Alinor saying she sent her to the stables to speak to the groom that brought the injured girl from the town. Do you think she might know where Willi has gone?”
“I hope not,” Bascot replied grimly. He glanced towards the stables but could see no sign of the sempstress, only a few grooms attending to the chore of mucking out the stables and the castle blacksmith inspecting the shoes of one of the horses. Fear gripped his throat. The boy who could identify the person that had killed Tercel was missing and the person he was now certain had committed the crime was not in plain sight. If she had ahold of the boy, where would she have taken him? Scanning the multitude of buildings in the ward, he suddenly recalled how he had glimpsed the door of the old tower closing as he and Bruet had entered the bail. “Sir Hugh and I will search the old tower,” he said to Ernulf, “while you and your men look in the other buildings. And if you see Margaret, detain her in the keep until I come.”
Anxious to be about his search, Ernulf gave a nod and hurried off after his men.
An unspoken question was etched on Bruet’s face as he followed Bascot’s hasty steps to the tower and waited while the Templar cautiously pushed open the door. The interior was still and silent, the staircase that led up to the ramparts empty.
“What did you say the lad’s name is?” Bruet asked.
“Willi,” the Templar replied softly, “but do not call out. We will search the chambers, but quietly.”
His curiosity barely restrained, Bruet did as the Templar bid and the two knights ascended the stairs to the second storey. They looked in the rooms that led off the landing at the second level; all were empty. As they came out again onto the stairs, a noise could be heard above, a shuffling sound and the whispering grate of a door being opened.
“Up there,” Bascot said and ran up the steps to the third floor. As they reached the top of the staircase, there was a crash as the door out onto the walkway flew back and hit the wall behind it. It was accompanied by the sound of a young boy’s voice raised in protest. “No, I’m not going out there… let me go…”
The Templar and Bruet charged through the opening. In front of them, at the far end of the catwalk, was Margaret, her arm around Willi’s neck and holding a pair of scissors, point downwards, at the boy’s throat, her back pressed hard against the stone wall of the parapet.
Bascot’s premise was now confirmed. Because of the information contained in Lionel Wharton’s letter, they had never considered that Tercel’s mother might not have married the Lincoln merchant. And she had not done so. After she had birthed the babe and given him into Lionel Wharton’s care, she had returned to Lincoln and obtained a place as a servant in Petronille’s retinue, taking the secret of her past safe with her to Stamford in the de Humez retinue. All the time they had been searching for her, she had been in their midst, and had been able to commit the murder without a shadow of suspicion being laid on her. And now she had a young child at her mercy. Bascot had no doubt she would injure, or even kill Willi, if they made an attempt to wrest him from her.
“Margaret, what are you doing up here with the boy…?” The startled exclamation burst from Bruet, then faltered as he remembered the Templar’s questions and tried to make sense of what he was witnessing.
Bascot laid a restraining hand on the knight’s arm. Margaret saw the motion and gave a small harsh laugh. “You may not know why I am here, Hugh, but I can see that Sir Bascot does.” She tightened her grip on Willi. “I am the one this boy saw that night, just after I had killed that misbegotten bastard Tercel. It was right here, on this very spot, that I took his life and I am glad of it. He was the spawn of an incubus and I could not let him blight his mother’s life all over again.”
