tunic. The sheriff’s seal dangled from the parchment. Legerton gaped at it in astonishment.
“Treasure trove?” he gasped. “I know nothing of any trove.”
“Do you deny that you employed a stonemason named Cerlo to carry out repairs to your property and that, while he did so, he found a hidden cache of valuables? Or that you agreed with him to suppress the discovery?”
All of Legerton’s bombastic self-assurance drained from him. In a bewildered fashion, he repeated his denial. “I know nothing of this matter, nothing at all.”
“Your accomplice, the mason, is dead, Legerton.” Beside the exchanger, Partager took a step backwards, his face ashen as Bascot went on. “But before he died he revealed the secret you shared. You will remain under guard while we search your home.”
Signalling to two of the men-at-arms, he ordered them to take the exchanger prisoner. As they started for the dais Silvana stepped in front of the soldiers and blocked their passage. “It was not my brother who hired the mason, Sir Bascot,” she declared defiantly. “It was me. Walter was not even here when Cerlo carried out the work. He was in London, attending a meeting of exchangers at the treasury. It was because of Walter being away that I arranged for the work to be done, so he would not be disturbed by the upheaval.”
The Templar regarded her for a long moment. She seemed composed, but he could see that her hands were shaking and she quickly hid them from sight in the folds of her gown. Was her claim a desperate attempt to shield her brother, Bascot wondered, or was it the truth?
“Then, mistress, it seems it is you I must take into custody.”
“If you will,” Silvana replied quietly. “But I, like my brother, know nothing of the mason discovering a treasure trove while he was at work here.”
“So you say. But since I know he did, how do you explain your ignorance of its existence? If the excellent condition of this manor house is used as a rule by which to judge your competence, I do not believe you would leave a workman completely unsupervised. Did you not inspect his work while it was in progress?”
“No,” Silvana said, “I did not.” Her tone faltered for a moment and under the chilly gaze of Bascot’s blue eye, she looked desperately towards where her brother sat, Simon Partager still standing by his side. All those in the hall, the servants, de Laxton and the men-at-arms had fallen silent at her intervention and there was a hush as they listened to the exchange between her and the Templar.
Bascot did not give Silvana time to concoct an excuse. “I am waiting, mistress, for an explanation of your statement,” he said abruptly. “I know that Cerlo shared his discovery of the trove with another person at this manor. If it was not you, and you claim it was not your brother, who was it?”
Silvana took a deep breath and steadied herself. “I can judge the skill of a cook or a sempstress,” she said, “but to assess the competence of a mason is more the province of a man than a woman. I asked one of my husband’s employees to oversee Cerlo’s work.”
“And his name?” Bascot said impatiently, still not sure whether Silvana was prevaricating or simply trying to delay her brother’s arrest.
“It was—”
Silvana’s reply was curtailed by a cry from her brother and a shout from Simon Partager. Everyone jumped with alarm as the assayer grasped Legerton around the neck and pulled the dagger he wore from his belt. He pressed the point of the blade to the exchanger’s throat.
“It was me,” Partager said as he wrested Legerton to his feet and held him fast. “And I will kill this fornicating bastard if you do not let me leave here unharmed.”
Iseult gave a cry of alarm at her husband’s admission. The sound brought a bitter peal of laughter from Simon. “I did it for you, you bitch,” he cried. “So I could have enough money to buy the baubles that entice you to other men’s beds. You are nothing but a trollop, but I love you. . . .”
His words ended on a sob and Bascot, seeing Iseult’s outcry had distracted her husband for a moment, took a step forward, his hand on his sword, but Simon noticed the movement and pushed the dagger deeper into Legerton’s neck. A thin stream of blood began to trickle from the wound.
“Stay where you are, Templar, else I