they stayed last night,” Roget told him. “The bailiff is not a man to shirk his duty. I would be surprised if any of them would have been able to escape his vigilance.”
“Perhaps so, but it can be difficult for a man to oversee a woman all night long unless he is her husband. With Sven’s connivance, Joan could easily have slipped out without Thorson being aware of it.”
Roget gave a chuckle. “For a chaste Templar, your knowledge of a woman’s ways sometimes surprises me.”
Bascot returned his smile. “In the years of my youth, before I joined the Order, I was often tempted by the charms of a willing female. And I did not always resist.”
After leaving their horses in the castle stables, the pair went into the keep, where trestle tables were being set up for the midday meal. The Haye steward, Eudo, met them at the door and told Bascot he was to convey an invitation from the sheriff that the Templar stay and eat with the household so that he would be present when Thorson brought the Grimson party to the hall after the meal was over.
While Roget went to sit with Ernulf and the men of the garrison near the back of the hall, Bascot took the seat he had been accustomed to use while he had been staying in the castle, at a table used by the household knights set just below the dais. In the centre of the table was a huge salt cellar that marked the division of those of highborn status from ones of lower station. Bascot’s regular seat had been at the lower edge of the line of demarcation and, as he slid into place, the knights in Camville’s retinue all gave him a warm greeting. A few moments later, Gianni came into the hall with John Blund and Lambert. As one of the higher ranking household staff, the secretary took his seat just below the salt and expressed his pleasure at being in Bascot’s company. Both Gianni and Lambert, as Blund’s assistants, were allowed to sit beside the secretary, and Lambert did so, but Gianni immediately came around behind the Templar and filled his wine cup. The lad then began to lade Bascot’s trencher with viands from a huge platter in the middle of the table, just as he had done every day for the two years he had been the Templar’s servant.
John Blund looked on with a nod of approval and Lambert gave a smile of commendation. Bascot felt a warm glow in his heart and, when Gianni had piled his trencher high, thanked the lad and gave him permission to take his own seat. The boy’s actions were a nice gesture of courtesy, and betokened well for the character of the man he was on the verge of becoming.
Once the meal was over, Gerard Camville, seated on the dais, sent a page to where Bascot was sitting with an invitation to share a cup of wine at the high table while they waited for the Grimsons and the two seamen to appear. The Templar joined the sheriff and Lady Nicolaa while the detritus of food was removed and the tables taken down and stacked against the walls and then, as Camville had instructed, the hall was cleared of servants. When the expected party arrived in the company of Bailiff Thorson and his constable, the huge chamber was empty except for Bascot, the sheriff, Nicolaa de la Haye and Roget. The steward, Eudo, had remained at the door only long enough to usher Thorson and his constable, with the Grimson party trailing behind, into the hall before exiting himself.
The bailiff and his constable went to stand beside Roget, leaving Sven and Joan standing below the dais, Askil and Dunny behind them. All were dressed in a sober manner. Joan was clad in a gown of dark grey topped with an old-fashioned Saxon head rail similar to the one she had worn on the day Bascot and Roget had first met her in Grimsby, this time of a heavier material that almost completely covered her hair and was fastened in place about her forehead by a plain band of dark blue. Sven’s tunic was of good quality material and of a red so dark it was almost black, while the two seamen wore hose and tunics of russet brown that had been patched in places. This time not only Askil’s hair, but also Dunny’s, was tied back with a leather thong and the younger sailor’s previously greasy locks appeared to have been recently washed. Camville let them wait for a moment before he spoke.
“Bailiff Thorson informs me that you told Captain Roget and Sir Bascot a pack of lies when they were in Grimsby. You have until I drink this cup of wine to explain yourselves to my satisfaction. If you do not, you will be taken to the castle gaol and stay there at my pleasure.”
Sven flinched at the sheriff’s threat, but his wife did not show any fear. She stepped forward a pace and spoke in the icy tones Bascot remembered so well from the day he and Roget had questioned her in her home.
“The only lie my husband told was of our purpose in going to Hull,” she said steadily, her hands loosely clasped in front of her and her demeanour showing no sign of agitation. “We were, as Sven said, absent from Grimsby for some ten days but none of us have any involvement in the murder of the prostitutes.”
Placing her hand on the sheriff’s arm to forestall further speech, Nicolaa de la Haye now leaned forward and spoke in measured tones to Sven’s wife. It was a tactic she often employed when Camville’s choler was rising, her own calm authority a perfect foil to her husband’s irascibility. And it was deceptive, for Nicolaa was just as implacable as her husband when it came to the pursuit of justice. “And why were you unwilling to tell my husband’s officer the true reason you went to the port?”
A brief frisson of relief, quickly masked, crossed Joan’s features as she turned to speak to the seemingly mild-mannered castellan. “It was because of the Templar’s presence, lady.” She gestured behind her at the two sailors. “Dunny, one of the seamen my brother Robert employed, did not tell all that he knew of the night my brother was killed in Acre. Before the fight began between Robert and the knight who stabbed him, they stood for a little time in conversation and mention was made that they had previously been in each other’s company in Hull, and that the knight was from Lincolnshire. My husband and I did go to the port to speak to some of Robert’s customers but Sven also went to some of the alehouses my brother patronised to see if anyone knew the name of the knight. We thought that if we could find out who he was…”
Camville’s temper snapped at the glib recital. Rising from his seat he strode down from the dais and went to stand in front of Joan. “And what would it profit you to know the name of this knight?”
Joan recoiled slightly at the suddenness of the sheriff’s attack but managed to answer steadily. “Then, lord sheriff, we would have reported it to you. As far as we know, the knight who killed Robert has not been apprehended, but even if he is, he would merely be expelled from the Templar Order, not hung as he deserves. If he returned to Lincolnshire after his expulsion, he could resume his former life with ease and none would be the wiser. But, if you knew of it, you could charge him with the crime and see that he paid the full penalty. The reason we did not want Sir Bascot to learn of our purpose is because it is well-known how Templars support each other, and we feared he might give my brother’s murderer warning.”
“And if this knight-whose name you do not know-does not return to England, but has stayed in Outremer, what then?” Camville demanded.
“It was implied by the conversation Dunny overheard that the man who killed my brother is a knight of Lincolnshire. If so, he will have family here.” Joan’s voice rang with resolution as she gave vent to outrage that had been too long suppressed. “Even if he does not return, if we learn his identity then we can publically denounce him. Let his relatives suffer, as I have done, for his evil act. It will not compensate my grief, but it will go a long way to alleviate it.”
Bascot noticed that Askil was watching Joan with undisguised admiration in his eyes. There could be no doubt that the sailor, as Thorson had judged, was in love with her. How far would such devotion drive a man? Would Askil commit murder if Joan asked it of him? The Templar thought it entirely possible. Sven, too, seemed in thrall to his handsome wife. It was evident that this scheme of discovering the identity of her brother’s murderer was of her making. Both her husband and Askil were merely following her direction, taking Dunny along in their wake.
Bascot switched his gaze to Joan and tried to assess the truth of her words. She had merely glanced at him as she had made her accusation against the Templar Order and her words had been charged with seeming sincerity. But, once again, he had the feeling she was masking her true purpose. He leaned forward and asked a question of his own.
“Now that you have made Sheriff Camville cognizant of your intent, mistress, you have no need to fear any complicity on my part in aiding the man who killed your brother. Tell us, did either you or your husband discover the name of the guilty knight?”
“No, we did not,” she replied coolly. “Our journey was in vain.”
“As is the reason for holding this meeting,” Camville said heatedly. “I am trying to find out who murdered two women and attacked another last night in the town. Your futile search is a distraction and wasting time that I, and my men, could put to better use. You will stay in Lincoln until I receive an answer to the message I sent to Hull. I
