MAureen Ash - A Deadly Penance

As he mentally examined the viability of this premise, a number of coincidences occurred to him and he realised there was one woman they had all overlooked. She fit the description admirably-being of the right age, a resident of Lincoln at the time of Tercel’s conception and had remained unwed. She had also been in the castle on the night of the feast and present when Elise had been stabbed. And because of her close proximity to the murdered man, it also explained why no evidence of him making a search for her within the town had been found. He had no need to go abroad to seek her, she had been in his company all along, for she was living within the castle walls. Bascot was now certain that he knew her identity, and he was also confident that, despite the furrier’s denial, it had been she who had killed her son.

By this time they had passed Danesgate and the street where Gildas’ shop was located. He was about to go back and ask the barber for the names of Adgate’s cousins as further proof of his theory but instead turned to Bruet.

“The sempstress, Margaret-do you know whether or not she still has family in Lincoln?”

“I am not sure,” the knight replied, a little startled by the question. “She said to me once that her parents were dead, but I don’t recall her mentioning any other relatives.”

“It is important, Bruet,” Bascot said tersely, curbing his impatience. “Has she ever said anything about a cousin, or the trade that he followed?”

Recognising that the Templar’s peremptory tone was dictated by the importance of his question rather than rudeness, the knight took no offence but pursed his lips and thought back over the years he had spent in Margaret’s company while they both served in the de Humez retinue. “About a cousin, no, but she did tell me once that her father was a draper. She said she learned to sew in the shop where he sold his bolts of cloth, helping to stitch vestments for those customers who did not have a wife with sufficient skill to make them.” Bruet paused. “Is that what you want to know?”

Bascot made no answer. Reinbald had told him that all of the Adgate family had been engaged in the clothing trade. He had no doubt now that Margaret was the woman they were seeking and, as the assurance came to him, hard on its heels came the thought that if the missing boy, Willi, had been found and could identify her, she might seek an opportunity to silence his tongue before he could pronounce her guilt. If Ernulf had taken Willi back to the castle, he would not have removed the lad from danger, but placed him directly in its path.

“Bruet,” he said urgently, “do you know if Ernulf found the boy that ran away?”

The abrupt change of subject disconcerted the de Humez knight and he looked at Bascot in surprise. “The 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.

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.