The Canterbury Murders (6 page)

Chapter Ten

The Templar knight who was occupying Gianni’s thoughts was in closer proximity than the lad, or anyone else connected to the murder investigation, realised. Two months earlier, Bascot de Marins had been assigned to a temporary post at Temple Ewell, a small preceptory near Dover castle set high on the cliffs overlooking the Narrow Sea, the main function of which was to provide a transit point for Templars being sent overseas. The preceptor of the commandery had broken his leg during a tussle with a fractious stallion, and Bascot had been sent to assist him until his injury healed. That time had now come and although Bascot had enjoyed the busy atmosphere of the coastal enclave, he was looking forward to returning to Lincoln, a town he had come to consider as home. He would also be pleased to again be near Gianni, a lad he loved like a son. Although they did not see each other often, there was a strong bond between them, and Bascot hoped that during the forthcoming season of Christ’s Mass, their respective responsibilities would be eased enough to allow them to attend one of the services in Lincoln cathedral together.

Just after Terce on the morning following Gianni and Miles’ visit to St. Alphege’s, Bascot was in the bail of Temple Ewell with the preceptor, Henry Verdun, waiting for a groom to bring out his mount for the return trip to Lincoln, when the two men heard a frantic fluttering of wings overhead. Looking up, they saw a pigeon land in front of a coop built alongside the walkway on the northern palisade and, with a desperate flutter of wings, scuttle inside. In the sky above a hawk circled, but as soon as the pigeon disappeared from view it wheeled away, flying high up into the sky to resume its search for prey.

“That was a narrow escape,” Verdun exclaimed, “both for the pigeon and the message it carries. The communication must be an urgent one; otherwise, it would have been sent by land. Will you wait here, de Marins, while I see what it is?”

The preceptor started across the ward, limping slightly on his recently mended leg. The use of pigeons to carry messages—a speedy means of communication learned from the Arabs—was extensive in Outremer, especially when a fortress under attack had need to send an urgent request for support, but was not prevalent in England where the more conventional means of a rider on horseback sufficed for most despatches. Bascot hoped that the message did not contain disastrous news about any of the Templar ships that had recently left the port.

As Verdun reached the bottom of the ladder that led to the top of the ramparts, one of the guards on the palisade descended, holding the tiny scrap of parchment that had been attached to the pigeon’s leg. He handed it to the preceptor who, after reading it, walked back to where Bascot stood.

“I think you had better see this,” Verdun said, handing the paper to Bascot. The parchment had been scraped so thin it was almost translucent. On it was a brief message in miniscule writing. “De Marins to report to Canterbury castle immediately to assist King John in murder investigation. Advise progress.” It was signed by Thomas Berard, the London master of the Order.

As Bascot scanned the message, the Temple Ewell preceptor studied his companion, trying to gauge his reaction to the command. De Marins was a knight in his late thirties, of medium stature and wearing a patch over the socket of his missing right eye, a legacy from the eight years he had spent as a prisoner of the Saracens in Outremer. The preceptor had found him to be taciturn, but not unfriendly, and had come to respect and like him during the short time Bascot had been at the enclave. Verdun had heard, from some of the brothers who had passed through Temple Ewell on the way to the Holy Land, of de Marins’ exceptional ability at finding the perpetrators of secret murder, and it seemed this talent was once again required. But Verdun was also aware that, like many of his confreres, Bascot did not hold King John in high regard, and that secondment to royal service would not be a welcome duty.

“The king must have sent a request for your assistance to London,” Verdun commented. “Master St. Maur is in Scotland at the moment, so it would have been received by Thomas Berard. I recently wrote to tell him that my leg was almost healed and I would be able to resume my duties soon. That must be why he sent the message in such haste, in the hope it would arrive before you left to return to Lincoln.”

Amery St. Maur was the master of the Templar Order in England and, as such, held the highest office in the country. Thomas Berard, master of the London enclave, was St. Maur’s second-in-command. While the Templar Order did not owe fealty to John, or to any other earthly monarch, it was within their discretion to aid the king if the cause seemed worthy. It would appear that Master Berard had decided to comply with John’s request.

Bascot nodded, making no comment, but Verdun could see the aversion in his pale blue eye. But whether the command was to his liking or not, he was duty bound to obey.

***

As the Templar started on his journey, completely unaware that Gianni and Nicolaa de la Haye were in Canterbury, John was ensconced in a chamber in the priory guesthouse, a pile of parchment on the table beside him. His accommodations were very comfortable. A wide bed with a soft mattress sat in one corner, and there was a large fireplace filled with blazing logs to ward off the cold and an antechamber fitted with an oaken table, padded chairs and settles. This guesthouse was the most prestigious of the three provided for the comfort of pilgrims and visitors, the other two comprising less salubrious quarters; the one on the eastern side, next to the piscina that provided fresh fish for the refectory table, had smaller living quarters and less bounteous fare at table, and the almonry, in the northwest corner of the precincts, had only one large communal chamber for the accommodation of those of poorer means. At the moment he was the only occupant of this particular guesthouse, for William Marshal, with a perversity that seemed suspicious to John, had elected to stay in the less comfortable one beside the piscina, saying that he had need for no more than a pallet on which to lay his head, and that one of its narrow cells would suit him admirably. John had not been pleased at the earl’s decision to keep apart from his company and decided it might be wise to make an effort to heal the breach between them. The earl was a popular figure with the rest of the nobility and John would need his support at Oxford.

Pulling his thoughts away from the untenable conjecture that Marshal might be considering defection, John took another sip from his wine cup and glanced once again at the message he had received that morning. It was a letter from Thomas Berard, master of the London Templar preceptory, and in it Berard informed John that permission had been given for Bascot de Marins to assist in the murder investigation and that as he was at present in the Temple Ewell commandery, he should arrive in Canterbury that very day to take up the task.

John, pleased that his request had been granted, and also to learn that de Marins would be in the town so soon, made a mental note to direct the clerks of his exchequer to send the promised donation to the Order with all despatch, so as to ensure their continuing cooperation.

Turning next to the other sheaves of parchment that lay underneath the letter, John perused the pages once again. Sent by Nicolaa de la Haye early that morning, they contained a copy of the information that her household knight and young
secretarius
had gathered from interviewing the townhouse servants and viewing the corpse. The king felt a pang of sorrow as he read the detailed notation of the injuries on Molly’s body, but he agreed with the covering note Nicolaa had appended, that none of the information seemed to give any clue to the identity of the murderer or the motive.

He rose from his seat and began to pace. It was his hope that this villain had no connection to Arthur and the quarrel John had with his nephew earlier that year. But if it proved otherwise, the murderer must be dealt with quietly and swiftly, for public knowledge of the terrible aftermath of that incident could turn his nobles against him and thereby have a disastrous effect on the forthcoming council at Oxford. He must make every effort to ensure that while the investigation was in progress, any incriminating facts linked to Arthur’s sad fate were kept privily. With de Cornhill, this would have been a simple matter. The sheriff’s vast estates were in John’s gift, and the risk of losing them would have compelled de Cornhill’s cooperation. But de Marins, not bound by the bonds of fealty, and possessed of a rigid moral rectitude, would be impervious to any such coercion. John would have to trust that the risky gambit he had decided upon would overcome this difficulty.

The king reached for his goblet, took a swallow of wine, and tried to relax. If it was God’s will, he would navigate a safe path through this latest trial. He had not only his own wits to aid him, but also the considerable intelligence of the one man he had taken into his confidence, the wily and formidable Hubert Walter, archbishop of Canterbury and chancellor of England. He prayed that would be enough.

***

It was just after Terce that Gianni and Miles left the Watling Street townhouse to go to the home of Molly’s sister, Maud Cooper, hoping she might have some relevant information about the slain woman. They were not disappointed. Barely an hour had passed before they were on their way back to Watling Street in a buoyant mood, eager to tell Lady Nicolaa what they had discovered.

“Mistress Cooper rarely saw her sister—the last time was two years ago,” Miles informed the castellan. “The washerwoman sometimes sent money to the priest at St. Alphege for presents for her brood of nieces and nephews, but beyond that they had little contact. They were only in each other’s company on the rare occasions when the king’s entourage was in Canterbury and Molly had the opportunity to visit. Mistress Cooper also told us that she has no knowledge of anyone who might have borne the dead woman enmity, and was certain that her sister had never been involved in any entanglements of an amorous nature, so it could not have been a jealous lover who killed her.”

Nicolaa nodded a brief acceptance of this disappointing news and waited for Miles to continue. She could see, from the eager look on Gianni’s face, that there was more to be told.

Miles, giving the lad a grin, continued. “Fortunately, Mistress Cooper’s neighbour, Edith Bottler, was in the house when we went there and was present during the interview. She told us that the last time the washerwoman came to visit, a little over two years ago, she had spent some time in gossip with her. On that occasion, Mistress Bottler claimed, Molly boasted that some of the other servants in the king’s retinue were jealous of the esteem in which King John held her, and fearful of the influence she had over him.”

Miles paused for a moment. “It might only have been braggadocio on the dead woman’s part, an attempt to impress Mistress Bottler with her importance, but Gianni and I thought it might be relevant to her murder. If her claim was true two years ago, there is every likelihood it was still valid when she arrived here, and gives rise to the possibility that one of the servants in the townhouse murdered her because of some personal enmity.”

Nicolaa gave the supposition a few moments of reflection, and then said, “The king told me that he thought highly of the laundress, so that part of her claim is certainly true, and makes your premise possible. Her return to Canterbury may have caused some old disagreement to resurface, but it seems more likely that if a servant’s squabble is at the root of the crime, it would have been with those who travelled with her from Rouen. She had been in the castle there for some months with John and could easily, during that time, have given one of them cause for umbrage.”

“In that case, lady, the obvious choice is Aquarius, the bath attendant,” Miles said. “The only other ones who came with the king from Normandy are two grooms, and both were with one of the other servants at the time the washerwoman was killed, and so cannot be deemed culpable.”

As Miles finished speaking, Gianni shook his head and let his arms hang loose, as though he could not sustain their weight. Nicolaa looked from him to the knight, and Miles had to concede the point the lad was making. “The bath attendant is not a strong man, lady. He is very slim of frame and has hardly any muscle on him. I doubt he would have had the physical prowess to overcome the victim, for she was very powerfully built.”

“Nonetheless,” Nicolaa objected, “appearances can be deceptive, and he would have had the advantage of surprise. His lack of strength does not completely eliminate him from suspicion.”

“I think we should also consider one of the servants who carried up the water,” Miles went on enthusiastically. “The Londoner. I do not think he was telling the truth about his background and, if I am correct, there must be a reason for it. The king is often in London when he is in England and it may be that the washerwoman had met the servant before while she was there. If she knew something about him to his disadvantage, and he felt under threat of exposure when she suddenly arrived in Canterbury, he may have decided to kill her before she had a chance to reveal what she knew.”

Nicolaa agreed. “Very well,” she said. “Continue your investigation into these two men, and see if you can find any tangible evidence to support your theory.” She gave the pair a smile. “You have done well, both of you. I know it will relieve the king’s mind if it is discovered that he was mistaken, and that it was the washerwoman who was the intended victim and not himself or the queen. He will be pleased with your efforts.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door and Dauton entered, bearing a packet addressed to Nicolaa that had just been brought by royal messenger. The castellan broke the seal and, after reading it, gave Miles and Gianni a look of satisfaction.

“The king has written to tell me that the Order has given permission for Sir Bascot to come to Canterbury and lead the murder investigation. And it seems he is not in Lincoln as we thought, but close by, at a preceptory near Dover. He is expected to arrive sometime today.”