Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,51

guards. “I didn’t steal it, Captain, I swear.”

Roget looked up Mikelgate. The back of all the houses adjoining the casket maker’s faced into the lane where Cotty had been apprehended. Among them was Warner Tasser’s silver manufactory.

“I don’t believe you, Cotty, and I have no doubt report of this theft will soon prove your lie.” He motioned to the guard who held the unfortunate thief. “Take him to the gaol and lock him up. And give him some water to wash his feet. I have no wish to soil my sword on the filth that encrusts his toes.”

With an evil grin, the guard dragged his captive away, Cotty still protesting his innocence. Roget turned to Ernulf. “Will you tell Sheriff Camville there is no longer any danger from the fire, mon ami, and also that I will be delayed in making my report until after I have found out who this jewellery belongs to?”

Ernulf nodded his compliance and, calling to his men, mounted his horse and rode back to the castle.

Fifteen

IT WAS WELL PAST THE MIDDAY HOUR BY THE TIME Roget trudged up to the castle, the leather bag of jewellery firmly tied to his belt. He was tired and hungry and his clothes and hair stank of smoke. Before he went to make his report to the sheriff, he went over to the barracks, hoping to get a pot of ale and something to eat from the store Ernulf kept in the guardroom.

Once inside the building, he went to the room the serjeant used as his own, a small cubicle separated by a leather curtain from the large open space shared by the men-at-arms. Pushing the curtain aside, he went in and found Bascot and Gianni in company with the serjeant, the Templar having delayed his journey to Grantham in case the fire in the town spread and every able-bodied man in Lincoln was called out to fight it.

“I have come for a pot of that malodorous brew you call ale, Ernulf,” Roget said to the serjeant, hooking a stool from the corner and sitting down heavily. “My throat is as dry as the sands of Outremer.” The air in the tiny chamber was warm from the heat of a brazier burning in the corner and the captain began to relax as he took a pot of ale from the serjeant and downed it in one gulp.

“Have you found the owner of the jewellery?” Ernulf asked as he took the captain’s cup and refilled it.

Roget shook his head and patted the scrip at his belt. “No. I still have it here. When I make my report to Sir Gerard, I will give it into his safekeeping.”

“Ernulf told me about the theft and how the jewellery the thief had on him appears to be very valuable,” Bascot said. “I would have thought that whoever owns it would have soon noticed it missing and reported their loss.”

“So would I, mon ami,” Roget replied. “But I went to every building along Mikelgate, including the one belonging to that chien of a silversmith, and asked them to check their valuables. All denied having anything taken while they were out in the street.”

He took out the leather pouch and tipped it up so Bascot could see the contents. The ruby in the pendant gleamed richly in the light from the brazier. The Templar leaned forward and picked up one of the rings.

“These are fine pieces. Their absence would not be easily overlooked.”

Roget nodded. “When no one claimed them, I thought that maybe one of the Lincoln gold- or silversmiths would recognise the workmanship and, if they did, I could discover the owner through whoever made them. So I went to the head of their guild and asked if he could help me. But he could not. He said that even if the rings had been fashioned by a Lincoln smith, they would not have been by any who are living here now. The design is a very old one and whoever made the ring will have been a long time dead.”

Roget pointed to the mounting on the shoulder of one of the rings. It was bevelled and etched with a pattern of curlicues and tiny feathery leaves. Set with a sapphire, the jewel seemed as though it was a flower nestling in a bough of greenery.

“The head of the guild said this design was popular just before the reign of King Stephen. It wasn’t made after Stephen took the throne because it resembles the