Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,53
large topaz and the jewel glowed like the eye of a cat. “You could be right. As soon as I have made my report to the sheriff, we will go to the gaol and question Cotty a little more zealously.”
Sixteen
BASCOT WENT WITH ROGET WHILE HE MADE HIS REPORT to the sheriff. Gilbert Bassett was with Camville, and both men listened attentively as Roget told of the fire and how Cotty had been apprehended. When the captain produced the jewellery found on the thief and related the guild master’s opinion that the age of the rings dated from the reign of King Stephen, the Templar could see from the expressions on their faces they had formed a similar conclusion to his own.
Camville readily agreed to Bascot’s suggestion that he accompany Roget to question the thief, and the two men set off down into the town. The town gaol was located near to the centre of Lincoln and not far from the casket maker’s house where the fire had occurred early that morning. It was a squat rectangular building of thick stone housing four large cells and a small area furnished with pallets and a table where the guards slept or ate when not on duty. Cotty had been placed in a cell at the far end and was secured to the wall by a manacle around one leg. When Roget and the Templar entered, his face became fearful and he shrank back against the wall.
“I’m telling the truth, Captain Roget,” he whined. “I found that jewellery. I didn’t steal it, and may God strike me dead if I’m lying.”
“Then le Bon Dieu will save me the trouble of slicing off your toes,” Roget answered complacently. One of the guards had come into the cell with them, and the captain ordered him to fetch a stool. When it was brought, the captain grabbed one of Cotty’s legs and, propping the thief’s foot on the top, drew the short sword from his belt. The edge was sharp and reflected pinpoints of light from the flaring torch held by the guard. Cotty’s long toes wriggled as he tried to extricate his foot from Roget’s grasp.
“No, Captain, no,” he screamed. “You ain’t going to cut off my toes, I beg of you. I won’t be able to walk.”
“Nor will you be able to climb,” Roget replied, “and that will save me a great deal of trouble.” With these words, Roget lowered the blade until its edge rested on the joint of the thief’s largest toe. Blood began to well from the wound. “If you tell me the truth about where you stole the jewellery, I might only take off one of these miserable worms,” he said to Cotty. “But if you do not . . .”
The threat was enough. Cotty began to blubber and admitted that his tale of how he had come by the sack was only partially true. “I found it, Captain, just like I said, but not on the ground. It was in the wall of one of the houses, behind a stone that was loose. I found it when I was climbing up to get to a casement in the house beside it. . . .”
And so the thief’s story came out. It required little prompting from Roget beyond a slight pressure on the knife he held against Cotty’s toe. The thief said that in the late afternoon of the day before he had been in the lane behind the row of houses where the guard had found him and noticed that one of the windows on the top storey of a house appeared to be unlatched. He kept watch for the rest of the day and evening and, when no light appeared behind the shutters after darkness fell, he thought the room was most likely used for storage purposes and not a sleeping chamber. Aware the premises belonged to a clothier, Cotty said he thought he might be able to steal some better clothing than the rags he possessed. His only reason for doing so, he said, “was to keep my bones warm, Captain. I was perishin’ from the cold.” He said he thought the best way to climb up to the unlatched casement was to scale the stones of the building next door, which belonged to the silversmith, Tasser. “It’s stone all the way up, Captain, as you know, and made that way for to keep his workplace safe from the flames of the forge.”