MAureen Ash - A Deadly Penance

He was a man of middle years with a stocky build that swelled with hard muscle and it was easy to see why de Humez had chosen him for the task of escorting his wife and daughter on their journey. Bruet had a battle-hardened look about his person that would quickly deter any outlaws foolish enough to attack the cavalcade he led. He stood easily in front of Bascot, Richard and Alinor and, when asked about his knowledge of Tercel’s activities during the time the de Humez party had been in Lincoln, admitted that he had little.

“The only times I had occasion to be in the cofferer’s company was on our journey here and, after our arrival, when we all attended services in the cathedral during Christ’s Mass,” he said gruffly. “If he went into town I would not be aware of it; my duties lie in overseeing the safety of Lady Petronille and Lady Alinor; all else is without my province and beyond my interest.”

“And you never heard report of any friends, or enemies, that Tercel may have made while he was here?” Richard pressed.

“No, lord, I have not,” Hugh replied shortly. “As I said, our paths did not often cross.”

Richard dismissed the knight and, as they waited for the first of the men-at-arms to come up to the chamber, discussed what the knight had said.

“I am sure that Bruet, like myself, did not approve of Tercel,” Alinor told her cousin and the Templar. “I think that Hugh, too, sensed that there was something about him that was false, a slyness that was a mixture of diffidence and conceit.”

“But your father must have trusted him, lady,” Bascot objected, “else he would not have given him the appointment to act as cofferer during your visit.”

“I do not say he was dishonest, Sir Bascot,” Alinor replied, “only that he seemed to wear a mask over his inner thoughts. He reminded me of a mummer in a play, acting the role of a person that was not truly himself. I mentioned it to my father once, just after Tercel arrived, and he told me that I was imagining it and not to be foolish.”

The Templar, unlike her father, took heed of Alinor’s words and, as he glanced towards Gianni, saw that the boy was making a notation on his tablet using the curious shortened form of words that Lambert had taught him to employ when taking dictation. Someone had killed Aubrey Tercel and there had to be a reason. Alinor’s suggestion gave him pause for thought. It was not uncommon for people to display alternate facets of their personality according to the requirements of different situations. Perhaps it had not been the man with which his companions had all been familiar who had engendered enough hatred to cause his murder, but the disparate character who lurked beneath the cofferer’s mask.

Next in Petronille’s retinue to be interviewed were the men-at-arms. Each was questioned individually but although all of them had seen Tercel leave the ward on quite a few occasions, none knew where he was bound or the identity of any people he may have become acquainted with. As the most senior of the four soldiers had said to Richard, “We’ve bunked in with the garrison since we came and mostly spend our time there, helping out with the regular duties in the ward. We had no cause to speak to the cofferer, and so we didn’t.”

Once the last of the men-at-arms had been questioned, only the two female servants remained. The first of these was a sempstress, Margaret, a senior household servant who had been with her mistress since before the time of Petronille’s marriage and her removal to Stamford, and who had, over the years, risen to the status of companion. Now approaching middle age, she was soberly dressed in dark grey and had a staid manner. When asked about her knowledge of the victim’s movements during the time they had been in Lincoln, she replied that, except for one occasion, she had none.

“Aubrey and I sat together at mealtimes,” she said, “and sometimes exchanged a few pleasantries, but beyond that the only contact I had with him was when he brought me some pelts of vair he had chosen as being suitable for Epiphany gifts from my mistress to her sister and daughter. Lady Petronille had sent him into town to obtain some samples and told him to bring those he had selected for my approval before the final purchase was made. Later, I stitched those that I chose for Lady Alinor onto the sleeves of the bliaut she is now wearing.”

She nodded in the direction of Petronille’s daughter who, over her gown of moss green, wore an overgarment of heavy red wool with sleeves that fitted close to the elbow and then flared out to fall in a gracious drape to her knees. The cuffs were trimmed with the bluish grey squirrel fur called vair. “Lady Nicolaa’s sempstress did the same with those milady gave to her sister,” Margaret added.

Bascot and Alinor both glanced at Richard and saw that a frown had appeared on his face. Simon Adgate, the burgess whose wife had been so distraught upon learning of the murder, was the head of the furrier’s guild. Had it been from his shop that Tercel had purchased the furs for his mistress? They listened with interest as Richard posed his next question to the sempstress.

“There are five or six furriers in Lincoln,” Richard said to Margaret. “Did Tercel mention which establishment he got them from?”

The sempstress shook her head. “He brought a selection of perhaps a dozen furs. I do not know if they all came from the same furrier, or from two or three different ones.”

After Margaret was dismissed, they took a few moments to discuss what she had told them before they sent for the young woman who was Alinor’s maid.

“When you interviewed Adgate earlier this morning, was he one of those who denied being acquainted with the victim?” Bascot asked Richard.

Richard shook his head. “No, he was not. He admitted he knew who he was, but gave me the impression it was no more than awareness of his identity.” The castellan’s son paused as he mentally reviewed his conversation with the furrier. “I did not know, then, that my aunt had sent Tercel into Lincoln to buy furs, so I did not ask Adgate if they were purchased from his shop. And Adgate did not volunteer the information, although he did not strike me as being particularly evasive.”

“Then he needs to be asked that question,” Bascot said. “Even if they did not come from Adgate’s premises, he may know from whom they were purchased. It is the first intimation we have of a place in the town that Tercel visited during the time he was in Lincoln.”

Alinor had looked thoughtful while they were speaking and now added her own contribution to the conversation. “Perhaps Adgate’s wife, Clarice, should also be interviewed again,” she said slowly.

“Why?” Richard asked.

“Well, primarily because you told me that she seemed inordinately upset when she heard about the murder.”

Both men nodded and waited for her to continue. “I know that my aunt said she thought Mistress Adgate’s outburst was due to her unstable nature, but it still seems excessive and makes me wonder if her reaction was provoked by something other than hysteria.”

Alinor took a breath and expanded on her notion. “We know she retired early from the feast because of her indisposition and so was abed in her chamber in the old tower at the time the murder took place. What if the cause of her distress was because she saw, or heard, something that she did not realise was important until hours later, when she learned what had happened?”

“But, surely, she would have told me of it when I spoke to her,” Richard protested.

“Maybe she was too frightened to do so and that is why she burst into tears,” Alinor replied. “If she knows something that will identify the murderer, she may be fearful of speaking out lest she put herself in danger.”