Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,17
before Bascot had gone more than two paces into the room. A short, round-faced man with an almost bald pate, the little hair that the moneyer possessed was dark in colour and grew in a long fringe from just above his ears down to his shoulders. His eyes were dark, and set deeply under sparse brows, giving him a sharp interrogative look, but his mouth was kindly set and generous in its curve.
“Have you come about the death of my poor clerk?” de Stow asked. When Bascot confirmed he had, the moneyer offered his visitor a cup of wine, which the Templar accepted. Once both men were seated and had full cups in front of them, de Stow explained how, the day before, Cerlo had approached him after the afternoon Mass at the cathedral and told of Brand’s death.
“Cerlo said that he believed Peter to have been murdered. Is that true, Sir Bascot?”
“It is,” the Templar replied. “The sheriff has sent me to gather as much information as possible about your clerk in the hope it will aid his search for the murderer. Cerlo will have told you that Brand’s body was found in the quarry. From the condition of his corpse, it would appear your clerk was killed four or five days ago. Do you know of any reason why he would have gone to the pit?”
De Stow shook his head sadly. “Not that I can think of. It is indeed puzzling. I gave Peter permission to visit his mother in Grantham over the holy days and thought he had left to go there.” The moneyer shook his head and flashed a contrite glance at Bascot. “It is to my regret that the last words I spoke to him were said in anger. He asked to leave early on his last day of work and I was annoyed by his request because there was still a lot of work to be done. Although I gave him permission, I also gave him the rough edge of my tongue.”
“And which day was that?”
“The fourth one before Christ’s Mass, the day the snowstorm started.”
“The road to Grantham would have been impassable by morning. Did you not wonder why he had not turned back and returned to Lincoln?”
“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