Maureen Ash: Murder for Christ's Mass

“He was going to travel by boat, not road. He made arrangements with the owner of a vessel taking supplies to Grantham to give him passage. The boat was due to leave very early the next morning and Peter was going to sleep on board overnight rather than stay in his room and have to rise well before dawn to be at the riverside in time for the boat’s departure. After he left, I didn’t expect to see him again until after the holy days were over. I did wonder how he had fared on the river in such terrible weather, but there was no reason to doubt he had gone.”

The moneyer took a sip of his wine and gestured towards the parchment that was lying on the table. “Now I find it is my sad duty to tell his mother that her only child is dead. I am trying to compose a letter to send her, but the words do not come easily.”

“I was told that both you and your clerk came to Lincoln from Grantham about a year ago. Is that correct?”

De Stow nodded. “Yes. The previous moneyer here in Lincoln died after a sudden illness and Master Legerton sent a letter to the Exchequer in London recommending me for the post.” He looked up at the Templar with a smile that contained a touch of pride. “As you will probably know, Sir Bascot, all moneyers are under contract to the crown and must be deemed trustworthy as well as proficient. When the office of the Lincoln moneyer became vacant, Master Legerton came to Grantham and asked if I would be interested in the post. We had been acquainted from the time when his father was alive; his sire was a silversmith and he and I belonged to the same guild. When Legerton came to tell me about the moneyer’s post, he said he would rather work with a man he knew than some stranger sent by the Exchequer. I gladly agreed to the terms he suggested and, along with my wife and children, asked Peter to come with me. He was an excellent clerk and I valued his services.”

Bascot, mindful that he must try to extract information about the coin Gianni had found without making de Stow aware he was doing so, asked the moneyer about the responsibilities of Brand’s post and if the delivery of coins was involved.

“We found no scrip on Brand’s body, Master de Stow, and so it may be that the reason for his death was robbery and he lost his life in a struggle with the thief. Did he, in the course of his duties, ever carry sums of money on his person?”

De Stow shook his head. “All the pennies we produce are given into the care of the exchanger. The mint is not involved in the transfer of coins.”

“Was Brand paid well? Is it likely he would have been carrying enough money to make it worthwhile to rob him?”

“I doubt it, Sir Bascot,” de Stow replied with a wry smile. “Peter was paid only a clerk’s wage of one and a half pence a day plus an additional halfpenny that I offered him as an inducement to accompany me here. I allowed him to take his meals with my family and gave him lodging in a room over the stables in my yard for a minimal sum, but he left the rest of his salary in my keeping. Every two months or so, he would withdraw what he had saved and take the money to Grantham for his mother. She is a widow and Peter’s father, who was a tanner, did not leave any provision for her after he died. Because of his mother’s reliance on him, Peter was forced to be parsimonious; he rarely even visited an alehouse because he was reluctant to part with the cost of a pint of ale. His leisure time was usually spent in his room or in the company of myself, and my family. It is hardly likely he would have been carrying enough money to tempt a thief.”

De Stow’s dark eyes grew moist. “He was a good lad. We shall all miss him.”

With a widowed mother to support, it was possible Brand had been driven to find desperate measures to provide for her, Bascot thought. Had the clerk been involved in a theft from the mint, and had that theft involved, as Camville suspected, the contents of an unreported trove?

“Do you know if Brand had any close friends in Lincoln, one of the men who work in the mint perhaps, someone he knew well enough to confide his reason for going to the quarry?” Bascot asked.

De Stow leaned forward and refilled their wine cups. “Not that I am aware of. As I said, he rarely went out and, although Peter was amiable enough, I do not think he formed a particular fellowship with any of my other employees, which is not particularly surprising. The three hammermen are all older than he, and married with children. They would not have much in common with an unattached young man. And the converse applies to my two apprentices. They are both some years younger than Peter; one is sixteen and the other nineteen. They would be more comfortable consorting with lads their own age.”

“What about those on Legerton’s staff?”

“Master Legerton has only one employee, an assayer named Simon Partager, who also fulfills the duties of clerk. Partager was recently married and, outside of the three days in the week that the exchange is open, spends the rest of his time at Legerton’s house in Canwick, where he and his new wife lodge. A man in the hazy throes of newlywed bliss does not seek out the company of an unmarried clerk.

“Apart from those I have mentioned, the only other people that Peter would have met in the course of his duties are the guards that keep the mint secure,” de Stow went on, “but all of them are, by the nature of their calling, men of rough disposition, former men-at-arms and the like. There are six altogether, four in my hire and two in Legerton’s. I doubt whether Peter would have formed more than a nodding acquaintance with any of them.”

“What about women?” Bascot asked. “Did Brand have a liaison with any?”

“Not in Lincoln, no,” de Stow replied, “but there is a young woman who lives in Grantham that he hoped to make his wife. They were not betrothed, but I know Peter was anxious to secure her promise to wed. But he had not seen her since his last visit home and that was over six weeks ago. Unless his visit to the quarry was something he had planned well in advance, it is unlikely he would have mentioned it to her.”

Bascot nodded. On the surface, it seemed de Stow did not have any information that might be helpful, but the Templar had one last question. “You said Brand was a competent clerk and a dutiful son, but what about his faults? All men possess one or two; it is not likely he was an exception. It may be that a facet of his personality-a tendency to be argumentative, perhaps-was offensive to someone and gave cause to wish his death.”

De Stow was shaking his head even as Bascot spoke. “He was a mild-mannered lad and would not have had the temerity to exchange angry words with anyone, even in strong disagreement. He could be a little irritating at times over his obsession with the maid in Grantham. There was another suitor for her hand, apparently, and he was worried she would accept the other lad. Peter thought she might run out of patience while he saved up the money they needed to wed, which was difficult for him to do since nearly all of his salary went to support his mother. He often spoke about her, even during a working day and to any of my other employees who would listen, extolling the girl’s virtues and her comeliness, saying his heart would be broken if he lost her. As you can imagine, they all thought his fixation with the maid was amusing, and I had to reprimand him more than once for distracting them from their work. Apart from that, there was little to discommend him. His work was exemplary; he kept the room he rented from me in good order and was courteous to my wife and two young daughters. I would not have offered him a post as my clerk had he been otherwise.”

Deciding no further information was likely to be forthcoming, Bascot told de Stow he would like to speak to the men who had worked with Brand. Despite what the moneyer had said about the clerk not being on familiar terms with any of them, it was still possible he might have mentioned his reason for going to the quarry, if only in casual conversation.