Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,48

aid her unsteady steps. Behind them trailed their two daughters, girls of ten and eleven, in the company of the young maidservant de Stow employed to tend to the needs of the females in his household. The family was looking forward to getting back to their house and a warm fire-side, but although they tried to step along Mikelgate with a quick pace, the ground was too slippery to do more than trudge slowly.

As her foot slid once again in the miry mess, Blanche looked up at her husband. “We should have gone to the service at St. Mary Crackpole, as you suggested, Helias. I am sorry for my insistence on going to the cathedral.”

Helias patted his wife’s arm. “Do not be concerned about it, Wife,” he said. “The service was uplifting and most welcome, especially as a consolation for the sadness brought on us by Peter’s death.”

“Do you know if the sheriff has any suspects for the crime yet?” Blanche asked.

“I do not believe so,” Helias replied. “The Templar knight came back again to ask if we knew the lodging place of the two men who guard the exchange, but he said nothing to indicate he knew who was responsible for Peter’s murder.”

Blanche did not attempt any more conversation until her husband had manoeuvred her around a particularly dirty patch of melting snow. “You will have to engage a new clerk, Helias. Have you thought of anyone suitable?”

The moneyer shook his head. “I think I will have to carry on alone for a bit, even though it makes a lot of extra work. Once the feast of Epiphany is over, I will call on the head of the silversmith’s guild and see if he can recommend someone.”

As he said this, they were not far from the door of Warner Tasser’s manufactory and, as their steps drew level with the entrance, the silversmith emerged, carrying a bundle in his hands. When he saw Helias and his family, his plump jowls creased into a smile and he made a low bow.

“Good morrow, Master de Stow,” he said in a congenial manner, bestowing a friendly look on Blanche as well as the moneyer. “I hope this day finds you and your family in good spirits.”

Helias nodded to the silversmith and made a civil reply but did not pause for further conversation. He could feel his wife’s shocked gaze on him as they continued their trek down Mikelgate but she constrained herself from speaking until they were out of Tasser’s earshot.

“How dare that man address you?” she demanded in outrage. “He is a thief and an embarrassment to his guild.” When her husband made no response, Blanche’s voice hardened. “I hope he has not forced his acquaintance on you, Helias. If he has, it will do your reputation no good, no good at all.”

Helias again patted his wife’s arm in a comforting manner. “Do not fret, my dear. It is only polite to respond to his greeting. We have just celebrated the season of Christ’s birth, after all. At such a time, you would not have me disobey Our Lord’s commandment to show goodwill to all men, would you?”

Blanche made no reply to her husband’s mild reprimand, but the ambiguity of his response made her uneasy.

Fourteen

IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE NEXT MORNING, JUST AFTER Nocturn, the fire bell hanging from a pole on Mikelgate began to ring. Its insistent pealing soon had people running from their homes and out into the street. Captain Roget and the off-duty guards sleeping in the town gaol leapt from their beds and pulled on their boots. As Roget and his men ran towards the sound of the tocsin, one of the men who had been on night patrol met them just as they rounded the corner of Brancegate.

“The fire’s in the casket maker’s shop, just down there,” he said, pointing to the end of the road.

His men at his heels, Roget ran towards the glow of flames flickering around the shutters of a casement on the ground floor. “The alarm was sounded by a sempstress who lodges above the shop,” the guard told Roget as they ran. “She’s a widow and got herself and her two children out safely, but she said she hasn’t seen the casket maker since early yesterday afternoon. He must still be in there.”

Shouting to two of his men to bring ladders and hatchets, Roget directed others to gather some of the emergency water barrels placed about the town and roll them