Murder for Christ's Mass - By Maureen Ash Page 0,62
meaning. Finally they pushed it aside in frustration.
The Templar again scrutinised the records relating to the industry of the manufactory. The silversmith’s profits from his legitimate business were considerable. Tasser was a very rich man. That being so, why did he feel the need to have dealings with thieves? Not only was he risking prosecution under the law but also the loss of membership in his guild. Was it simply greed? Was Tasser, like the fabled King Midas of Phrygia, so consumed with his love of wealth that he would risk all, and perhaps even commit murder, to slake his lust for money?
Bascot shrugged. The impulses that drew men to break God’s commandments were varied and complicated. The reason why one man committed a mortal sin could be quite different from the urge that prompted another to the same terrible act.
With resignation, and an unwarranted sense of failure, the pair rose from their chairs and doused the candles. After covering the brazier with a metal cap to extinguish the burning embers, they locked the door securely and made their way back to the castle ward.
Twenty
AS BASCOT AND GIANNI WALKED THROUGH BAILGATE, they could see a sturdy cart trundling through the castle gate, laden with small pieces of stone. The rubble was purchased from the cathedral quarry on a regular basis during the winter season, and used to fill in the shallow holes pitted in the bail by rain or snow. Just as the tail end of the cart disappeared under the archway, they heard a rumbling noise and the sound of voices raised in anger. Hastening their steps, they saw that the hinged gate at the back of the cart had come unpinned and part of the load had spilled into the castle entryway.
“Get that bloody lot cleared up, and fast! You’re blocking passage into the ward.” It was Ernulf who was shouting at the unfortunate carter, running across the bail in the direction of the gate as he did so.
The driver stepped down from his seat and Bascot was surprised to see it was Cerlo, the mason who had reported the finding of Brand’s body. Surely, the Templar thought, delivering a load of broken stone was a chore beneath the talents of a journeyman mason. Ernulf, too, pulled up short when he recognised the driver.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Cerlo,” Ernulf apolo gised. “I thought you were that dozy cowson who usually drives the cart. Why are you doing such a menial task?”
The mason mumbled something Bascot could not hear and Ernulf sent the gateward running for a couple of shovels and gave him instructions to help clear up the mess. The Templar waited until all the pieces of stone had been shovelled up and then he and Gianni walked through the entryway. As he passed the cart, the mason saw him and raised a hand to his brow respectfully, his eyes downcast. The leather apron with capacious pockets at the hem that Cerlo wore was covered in stone dust, and the mason mopped his brow wearily as he clambered back onto the wagon.
Sending Gianni to wash his grimy face and hands at the well in the castle bathhouse, Bascot walked across the bail with Ernulf.
“Sad to see a man brought so low,” the serjeant remarked.
“Are you speaking of Cerlo?” Bascot asked.
Ernulf nodded. “Aye. Alexander, the master builder at the cathedral, told him today he’d be out of a job come spring. ’Tis Cerlo’s eyes that are the cause. They’re failing, and he can no longer see well enough to use his chisel. He’s been overseeing the quarry for the last few weeks while the quarry master was laid up in town with a broken leg, but the master is now fit enough to return to work and Cerlo is no longer needed. That’s why he was drivin’ the cart. Alexander promised he’d try to keep him busy throughout the rest of the winter if he could, but not beyond that.”
Bascot remembered the odd way the mason held his head. The reason for it was now explained. “Can nothing be done to heal his eyes?”
Ernulf shook his head. “He went to see Brother Jehan at the infirmary but the monk told him there wasn’t any remedy and warned he’d soon be blind.” The serjeant’s face was grim.
“Surely the mason’s guild will help him?” Bascot said.
“They’ll give him a bit of money to see he doesn’t starve—that’s what the guild members pay their dues for, after all—but it won’t