by Maureen Ash
“But how did they intend to realise any profit from the cache if it could not be exchanged anywhere?” de Laxton asked.
“I think Legerton intended to wait until he could travel outside of Lincoln,” Bascot replied, “or even outside the realm, perhaps, and arrange for it to be exchanged or sold. And such a scheme would have worked if Brand had not been murdered by Fardein. Cerlo, I think, would have been content to wait for his share until Legerton had made such a trip, Brand was happy with the payment he received for his involvement, and Legerton looked forward to having enough money to pay off his debts and resume his extravagant lifestyle. It was a well-laid plan, and only foiled by the greed of Tasser’s apprentice.”
“And the coins Brand was taking to the mason must have been Legerton’s surety he would fulfill his part of the bargain with Cerlo,” de Laxton said. “If the exchanger had betrayed the agreement, the mason had evidence of an unreported cache. That would be enough to ensure Legerton turned over his share.”
“I think so,” Bascot replied. “I am not certain why the mason did not take some of the coins at the time the trove was found, but it could be they did not come to any arrangement until later.”
“And you believe the trove is still on the exchanger’s property?” de Laxton asked.
“It would be difficult to move sacks of coin and valuables to another location without someone in Legerton’s household taking notice. The sheriff thinks it likely it has been kept in the place it was found,” Bascot replied and, as the gates of the manor house came into view added, “We will soon find out if he is right.”
Thirty-one
The gate in the palisade encircling the property was open when Bascot and de Laxton arrived. Ignoring the shout of the gateward, they swept through the portal, the mounted soldiers close behind. As they dismounted in front of the manor house, a manservant came running out, alarmed by shouts of warning from the guard on the gate. Bascot pushed the manservant aside and strode into the hall.
When they entered, Legerton was sitting at the table on the dais in conversation with Simon Partager, who was standing beside the exchanger’s chair. Both men looked up in surprise, as did Legerton’s sister, Silvana, who was directing servants in erecting trestle tables for the evening meal, as the two knights and troop of soldiers burst into the room. Sitting at one of the tables was Iseult Partager, and her huge blue eyes grew round with astonishment at sight of the armed contingent.
“Sir Bascot,” Legerton exclaimed, “what is the meaning-”
The Templar cut him short. “I am here to arrest you, Master Legerton, on a charge of complicity in concealment of a treasure trove. You are to be taken to the castle for questioning and your property searched.”
As he spoke, Bascot pulled the warrant Camville had given him before he left the castle from the inside of his 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 will kill him,” Simon warned. “And tell that other knight and your men to keep back. It is not my intent to die, but if I must, I will take this whoreson with me.”
“For the love of God,” Legerton cried in a strangled tone, “do as he says, I beg of you.”
Bascot motioned to de Laxton and the men-at-arms to move back a pace. Partager was wound up as tight as a crossbow ready to release its bolt. The Templar rapidly assessed the implications of the assayer’s statement. It would seem Partager’s wife had been playing the trollop with her husband’s employer and it had been the assayer, not Legerton, who had conspired with Cerlo to conceal the discovery of the trove, hoping to buy back his wife’s love with the proceeds. Now that the plan had gone awry, his jealousy and hatred of Legerton was gushing forth in full spate. He desperately wanted to kill the man who had made him a cuckold; only the fact it would require forfeit of his own life was keeping that primal urge at bay. If any of them made a move towards him, Bas
cot knew Partager would slice Legerton’s throat open without hesitation.
Once he saw that de Laxton and the men-at-arms had obeyed the Templar’s command, Partager roughly pushed the exchanger down the two shallow steps of the dais and onto the floor of the hall. Keeping a wary eye on the knights and soldiers, the assayer then dragged Legerton in the direction of the door, the knife still at his captive’s throat.
“If you value this miserable cur’s life, Templar, you and your men will stay here until I am well away from this accursed house. Once I am safe, I will release him.”
As Partager uttered his threat, Bascot caught a flash of movement among the crowd of servants and women cowering behind one of the trestle tables. It was Silvana. While the assayer’s attention was concentrated on the armed men in front of him, she darted forward and grabbed one of the heavy pewter salvers that lay on the table. Without a pause, and in one smooth motion, she swung it up in her arms and brought it crashing down on the back of his head.
Partager fell almost instantly, his eyes glazing over as he dropped to the floor. Legerton tumbled free and picked himself up, his hands clutching at the wound on his neck. Bascot quickly retrieved the knife and motioned for two of the men-at-arms to take hold of the assayer.
As they hauled the half-unconscious man to his feet, the Templar picked up the salver and handed it to Silvana.
“You may not believe you are competent to do a man’s work, mistress,” he said with a small smile, “but I think you are mistaken. You wielded that tray with the skill of a seasoned man-at-arms and with just as much courage. Your brother is a fortunate man to have a woman such as you for a sister.”
Thirty-two
It was late in the evening by the time Bascot and de Laxton returned to the castle with their prisoner. One of the soldiers in the escort was leading a palfrey laden with sacks containing a large quantity of coin and jewellery. When they arrived at Lincoln castle, Gerard Camville and Gilbert Bassett were waiting for them in the hall.
Once Simon Partager had been secured in a holding cell, the sheriff directed two men-at-arms to carry the sacks up to his chamber, and the barons, along with Bascot and de Laxton, followed them up the stairs. After the soldiers had completed their chore, Camville dismissed them and de Laxton opened one of the bags. It was packed with a quantity of smaller pouches, ten in all.
“We counted the coins in one of these,” he said to the sheriff, lifting out a bag and hefting it. “It contains five pounds and, judging by the weight, so do all the others. That means there is fifty pounds in each of the larger sacks, of which there are four-a sum of two hundred pounds in all-as well as a pouch containing various items of jewellery. Even if the coins do not each contain a full pennyweight of silver, this is a sizeable treasure trove, to be sure.”
As de Laxton removed the jewellery and laid it on a table, Bassett expelled his breath in amazement. There were at least five necklaces-comprised of heavy links of gold chain-and a half dozen brooches and cloak clasps of the same material, all encrusted with precious stones. Among them were also a number of silver thumb rings and a torque that looked to be of Celtic workmanship, with strands of silver woven in the interlocking design much favoured by that race.
Camville picked up the torque. “This will fetch a pretty price,” he said, “as will the rest of it.”
He and Bassett listened attentively as Bascot explained how it had not been Legerton that the mason had taken into his confidence, but the assayer, Simon Partager. After Partager had been taken prisoner, and realised there could be no escape, he revealed how the trove had been uncovered and the plans he and Cerlo had made for its disposal.
“Apparently Partager came into the chamber where Cerlo was working just as the mason had removed the tiles that covered the floor. The sacks lay just below. When the pair saw the size of the cache, it did not take long for them to come to an agreement to keep the contents. Cerlo was desperate for money to sustain himself and his wife, and Partager wanted funds to get his wife away from Lincoln and Legerton’s bed. The trove seemed like a heaven-sent answer to both men’s problems. They acted quickly, using the bag that contained Cerlo’s work tools to carry the sacks to the assayer’s room and hide them underneath some garments in his clothes chest. They had to make two or three trips over the course of the day to get it all safely stowed and be sure none of the servants noticed their comings and goings. Fortunately for them, Legerton’s sister, Silvana, was keeping all the staff busy giving the house a thorough cleansing while her brother was away and Partager’s wife, Iseult, had gone to Lincoln to visit her sister.
“After they had hidden the contents of the trove, Cerlo and Partager discussed how they could dispose of it. They knew the age of the coins would prevent them from being exchanged, so they decided to leave the silver, and the jewellery, in the chest while the assayer applied for a vacancy at a mine in Tynedale. Once there, under the guise of carrying out his duties, Partager had enough skill to use the mine’s forge to melt the coins down slowly, just a few at a time, and fashion them into ingots. His actions would not be questioned-it is common for assayers to use a crucible for testing the purity of silver ore. Partager could then sell the ingots and the rest of the jewellery slowly, one piece at a time, to different gold- and silversmiths in one or more of the larger northern towns.
“Although it would have taken a long time to realise the full value of the trove, neither Partager nor Cerlo were in a hurry for their profit. Cerlo was content to receive a steady supply of small sums of money that Partager would bring to Lincoln once or twice a year, and the assayer simply wanted the wherewithal to keep his errant wife from straying. It might have taken them years to dispose of it all, but it would most certainly have provided an ample extra income for both men.”
“Why did they decide to divulge the secret to the clerk, Peter Brand?” Bassett asked. “Surely they were taking a grave risk by doing so.”
“To secure the post at Tynedale Partager had to pay a fee of five pounds to the overseer of the mine; he would also need some silver to finance his and Iseult’s journey north. He and Cerlo decided to sell a few of the smaller pieces of jewellery to cover the cost of the venture. They chose to approach Tasser because of his unsavoury reputation; even if he suspected the provenance of the items, they reckoned his greed would overcome any scruples he might have. But they were still wary-it would be best if neither of them was involved in the sale. Tasser knew Partager worked at the exchange, he would immediately wonder how the assayer had come by such sudden wealth and the same could be said of Cerlo, a lowly mason at the cathedral. If either of them attempted to carry out the transaction, they would be risking extortion by the silversmith. So they decided to use someone who was unknown to Tasser; a person who could spin the silversmith a tale about the origin of the jewellery and not be suspected of lying. Brand seemed the perfect choice-he had only lived in Lincoln for just over a year and was relatively unknown about the town. Partager had heard from other employees at the mint about the clerk’s impatience to save enough money to wed a girl in Grantham and approached him. When he asked if Brand was willing to help them for a small consideration, the clerk readily agreed.
“Partager never told Brand the extent of the horde he and Cerlo had found or where they discovered it. The assayer merely said the mason had found a few bits of jewellery and one small bag of coins in the foundations of an old house near the quarry and had come to the assayer for advice on how to dispose of it. It was Partager who fabricated the tale Brand told Tasser about inheriting the jewellery and, if Fardein had not been present when the clerk related the story, it might have worked. Tasser was suspicious, but not unduly so.”
“And the coins that Brand had in his purse on the night he was murdered?” Camville asked. “Why was he taking them to the quarry?”
“Partager told Cerlo that as soon as he heard whether or not he had been awarded the position at the mine he would come to the cathedral for early-morning Mass-a service the
mason always attended-and let his accomplice know the outcome. And, on the twentieth day of December, that is what the assayer did; he went to the cathedral, found Cerlo and told him the position was secured and he was expected to commence his new employment by the middle of January. He had formerly promised Cerlo, as evidence of good faith, that he would give the mason a bag of the old coins, but because he didn’t want to give them to Cerlo in full view of the parishioners attending Mass in the cathedral, he said he would send Brand to the quarry with them the next day. They agreed that dusk would be the best time for the clerk to arrive; even though the quarry was shut down due to the winch being inoperative, there might be some of the quarrymen about the pit during the daylight hours. And that is why the clerk was there on the twenty-first day of December, and at that time.”
“And because his wife’s accident made the mason late for the appointment, Brand was killed by Fardein, who saw his chance to rob the clerk and took it,” Bassett said.
“Which led the apprentice into demanding a share in the trove from Cerlo,” Bascot confirmed, “and to Fardein’s death when the mason lured him outside the walls of Lincoln and killed him.”
They looked at the riches contained in the sacks piled on the table. “It may be a valuable find,” the Templar said, “but it has caused untold misery to many people.”
“Whether it has or not, it can now be turned over to the Exchequer,” Camville said with satisfaction. “I will leave it to one of their officials to try and discover if there is an heir that may have a legitimate claim to the trove, or whether they are all dead.”
“I think we may have found the answer to that, Gerard,” Nicolaa said from the doorway. She and Richard entered the room, the castellan holding a piece of parchment in her hand.
When both Nicolaa and her son were seated and had full cups of wine in their hands, Bascot repeated, at the castellan’s request, the circumstances of how it had been discovered that it had not been Walter Legerton who had conspired with Cerlo but his assayer, Simon Partager. When he finished, the sheriff asked his wife what she had meant by her earlier statement that she knew who had secreted the cache.