Murder for Christ's Mass

Seventeen

As the silversmith was marched up Mikelgate by Roget’s guards, people on the street stopped and stared. Most of the bystanders were goodwives shopping for meat, fish and poultry at the markets near Bailgate, but a few were strolling along looking at the wares displayed in the open-fronted shops along the thoroughfare. One of these was Iseult Partager. She had begged her husband to allow her to come to Lincoln early that morning with him and Legerton, hoping to renew the exchanger’s interest in her once they were away from Canwick and the eagle eye of his sister. But all her efforts to coax a smile from her lover proved of no avail. He had ignored her throughout the short journey, his only conversation being with Simon as they discussed the various merchants with whom they were to meet that day and whether they had enough new coinage to exchange for the silver pennies the burgesses would bring. Even Simon, usually so attentive, had barely spoken a word to her since they had risen from their bed that morning.

Once the small party arrived at the lodgings above the mint, the two men went downstairs to confer with de Stow and see how his production of new coinage was faring. Unused to being ignored, and left with only the company of a young serving maid, Iseult quickly became bored. As the morning passed, she gave up hope that Legerton would return and seek out her company while her husband was engaged in his duties. He had done so once or twice in the past, and her lush mouth smiled in remembrance of the rollicking hour they had spent together in the bed in Legerton’s chamber while her husband toiled on the floor below. But now she had to face the fact that the exchanger was no longer interested in sampling the delights of her body. It was time, she thought, to find herself a new admirer.

She had gone into the town, ordering the young serving maid to accompany her, with the intention of visiting the shop of the draper that had been one of Legerton’s guests at Canwick over the holy days. The draper’s son had been most attentive to her and was a handsome lad, with strong muscles rippling at the neck of his tunic and a smile showing teeth that were even and white. Iseult gave no thought to her husband. She had only married Simon to get away from the threats of her father who, when she lived under his roof in Nottingham, had sworn he would confine her in a nunnery if she did not mend her wanton ways. It had been in order to remove her from the scandal of bedding a neighbour’s husband that her father had sent her to Lincoln for a prolonged stay with her sister, knowing his eldest daughter would keep a vigilant eye on her younger sibling. Soon after she arrived in Lincoln, Iseult had met Simon. From the first moment of meeting him, she knew the diffident assayer was besotted with her and would, she thought, be a biddable and complaisant mate. In that opinion she had been proved correct, and she gave no thought to the hurt she inflicted on him, nor would she have cared if she’d been aware of it.

Her trip to the draper’s shop had not been fruitful. Although the merchant had greeted her civilly enough, he had been very curt in his response to her request to speak to his son, informing her in icy tones that his offspring was not in Lincoln at the present, having left their home almost as soon as they had arrived back in town. His son was, he said, visiting a family member who lived just to the north of Lincoln, in Riseholme, and not expected back soon.

Annoyed with the draper’s attitude, Iseult left and wandered among the shops on Mikelgate. The weather had stayed reasonably warm and the streets, except for the odd slushy pile lingering by the roadsides, were almost devoid of snow. But as the short winter day drew towards time for the evening meal, and the sky began to darken, she decided she had no choice but to return to the mint and the company of the inattentive Legerton and her dull husband. It was just as she was on her way down Mikelgate that she caught sight of Tasser being hustled up the street by two of the town guards. Along with the other people on the street, she stopped and stared. The remarks of the spectators buzzed around her. Some opined that the silversmith’s illegal trading in stolen silver had finally been proved while others, more pragmatic in nature, said it was more likely Camville had discovered that Tasser had murdered his apprentice, Roger Fardein.

Iseult felt a thrill of excitement as opinions were bandied about. To think that she may actually have seen a murderer being taken to the sheriff’s gaol! The thought brightened up her mood considerably. She couldn’t wait to get back to the mint and tell her news. Perhaps now Legerton would show a spark of interest in her conversation and, ultimately, in her.

One of the other bystanders on Mikelgate had been Blanche de Stow. Having noticed Iseult ahead of her in the crowd just before the guards thrust the silversmith out the doorway of his manufactory, the moneyer’s wife slowed her steps, not wanting to be caught up in conversation with Partager’s wife. She, too, had watched Tasser’s arrest with astonishment, but her reaction to the spectacle had not been the same as Iseult’s. Blanche remembered her husband’s vague reply to her question about his familiarity with the ill-reputed silversmith and wondered now if Helias had deliberately misled her. As some of the crowd around her mentioned Tasser’s name in connection with the murder of Fardein, she refused to consider that her husband could be associated in any way with such a terrible crime. But murder was not the only offence the bystanders were linking to the odious silversmith, they were also speaking about his involvement in thefts of silver. She shivered slightly. It had not been long ago that Helias mentioned his need for money and his fear that the profit from the latest consignment of coins would not cover the cost of replacing some worn-out equipment in the mint. Then, just before Christ’s Mass, the new bellows and tables he needed were delivered. When she had taxed him about the cost, he gave a tut of dismissal and told her not to worry, that a good discount from the supplier had enabled him to afford the new gear. She had thought no more of the matter until now. As she recalled how friendly Tasser had been on the day they passed his shop, she wondered if her husband was telling the truth.

After Tasser was brought into the castle bail and his incarceration supervised by Ernulf, the serjeant returned to the barracks in high spirits. Gianni, who was waiting for his master in Ernulf’s cubicle, saw the smile on the serjeant’s face and gave him an inquisitive look.

“Well, lad, your master has done it again-caught a murderer. The town guards just brought in Warner Tasser and said he is to be interrogated about the murder of his apprentice. I warrant it won’t be long before the Templar has caught the miscreant that killed the clerk as well.”

Gianni clapped his hands together in delight at the news, but his jubilant mood was not wholly derived from his master’s success. As soon as the evening meal was finished, he was due to give another lesson to Stephen Turville and demonstrate some of the more complicated gestures. While Gianni was more than happy to help the young nobleman, his main interest in giving the lessons was that Lucia would be in her cousin’s company.

There had been one further learning session since the initial one and, as before, Lambert fulfilled the role of interpreter. John Blund had decided, after discussing the matter at some length with his clerk, to compile a book outlining the gestures, one that could be copied and used as a manual for pedants attempting to teach students stricken with similar difficulties to Stephen and Gianni. Both men were extremely excited about the project; Gianni merely looked forward to being in the company of the entrancing Lucia.

The boy knew the object of his admiration would never regard him in any other capacity than that of a lowly servant, but she nonetheless filled his dreams at night. When he was in her company, and close enough to see the luminous texture of her skin and smell the delicious scent of her gillie flower perfume, he thought himself in heaven. As she listened intently to Lambert’s interpretation of the gestures, tiny lines of concentration formed on the delicate arch of her brow and Gianni longed to smooth them clear with his fingers. Once the lesson was over, she would smile at him warmly and use her hands to make the gesture that said “thank you.” How Gianni wished he were older and handsome enough to make her look at him the way she did at Thomas, one of the squires. But even if he were, he would still be no more than a servant. Never would he be able to dance with her the way Thomas did or sign to her the gesture that said “I love you.” But in his dreams he did these things and when he awoke, his body was tingling with unfamiliar sensations, pleasurable ones that left him aglow with happiness. At the moment, the news that his master had caught another murderer was not uppermost in his mind nor, in fact, was John Blund’s manual.