Shroud of Dishonour (17 page)

Bascot accepted the explanation. There was a difference in the type of cloth used for garments in the ranks of the Templar Order. Those of knight’s rank wore clothing made from finely spun wool or closely woven linen, while the material used for the serjeants’ and men-at-arms’ garments was a much rougher type of cloth. Bascot briefly wondered why the knight had been wearing gloves in such a hot climate but, thinking it was possible he had injured his hands in some way, gave it no more thought and asked Askil what had ensued after he had identified Scallion’s corpse.

“The official who was questioning me asked where our cargo had been bought and who from, then I was given permission to take Robert’s body on board our ship and leave the port. We waited until we were well away from the harbour and buried the captain at sea.”

A silence fell over the little group at Askil’s last words. Even though the recounting of Scallion’s murder had been told in sketchy words by the young seaman, it was vivid, and Bascot could understand why Joan, Scallion’s sister, had been so angry. That a Templar had not only broken his vow of chastity by frequenting a brothel, but also committed the sacrilege of killing a Christian and fellow country-man was enough to raise the ire of any who heard the tale, let alone that of a family member. Bascot, although well aware that there would always be men who broke solemn oaths—history recorded that even kings that done it in the past—was heartily sorry that such a one had apparently been a Templar brother. However, he also knew that the Order did all it could to prevent any applicant suspected of harbouring baseness in his soul from joining its ranks. The sins of this one man should not be allowed to taint the purity of the many brothers who served the cause of Christ with absolute fidelity.

He glanced at Sven Grimson’s face. His features had remained impassive throughout the recounting but he had heard the tale before and it would have been easy for him to disguise his true feelings. Was he as innocent of wishing revenge for Scallion’s death as he claimed? Or had he, along with his wife and Scallion’s good friend, Askil, conspired to murder the two Lincoln prostitutes as a means of extracting retribution?

“We shall need an account of your whereabouts, Grimson, during all the hours of the day the first prostitute was killed eight days back,” Bascot said. “And also for the time of the second murder, three days ago.”

It took a moment for the purpose behind the Templar’s instruction to register, but when it did, Grimson’s face tightened into an angry scowl. “Are you accusing me of killing those bawds?” he demanded, his hand dropping to the knife he wore at his belt. “I have already told you I have no knowledge of their deaths. Do you insult my honour by implying I have lied?”

Bascot took up the challenge with one of his own. “An innocent man would not balk at giving proof of his claim. It is not I who insult your honour, but yourself, Grimson.”

Seeing the anger that flashed in the glacial blue of the Templar’s eye, Bailiff Thorson intervened. “Sir Bascot is right, Sven. If you are, as you say, not involved in these killings, then you have no reason not to answer. Tell us where you were on the days the two women were murdered.”

Grimson’s aspect turned surly, but he realised the futility of pitting his strength against that of a Templar knight, and answered the question. “About ten days ago, Joan and I took one of my boats and went up to Hull to look into the practicality of keeping Robert’s vessel and becoming, as he was, a trader. I am a fisherman; I know nothing of transporting commodities overseas and wanted to speak to some of the merchants that Robert did business with there. Hull is a large port and the one where Robert took a lot of his cargo on board. We wanted to see if these merchants, now that Robert is dead, would continue to trade with me. If the venture did not seem to be viable, we thought we would sell the ship.”

“How long were you and your wife in Hull?” Bascot asked.

“We did not return until yesterday,” Grimson replied.

“Then you were both away from Grimsby during the times the murders took place,” Bascot stated flatly. “Do you have witnesses in Hull to verify your claim of being there?”

“Yes,” the boat owner replied angrily, “Askil and Dunny were with us as a skeleton crew on the journey and can verify our whereabouts. And the merchants we visited, they will tell you the same if you wish to go to Hull and speak to them.”

Bascot saw the flash of apprehension, albeit quickly masked, in Askil’s eyes, as Grimson went on. “We discovered it will require a considerable outlay of silver to hire a crew and pay a deposit of surety for any cargo entrusted to me, so we also made enquiries about anyone who would be willing to purchase the boat and for how much. If you contact these men they will confirm that I was there.”

Hull was in the county of Yorkshire and some thirty miles to the northwest on the northern shore of the Humber estuary, so any journey there, except by boat, involved crossing the estuary on a ferry. It was a long way for Bascot and Roget to travel to verify Grimson’s statement, especially since it would be necessary for them to return to Lincoln first so that Roget could get Camville’s permission to continue the investigation beyond the borders of Lincolnshire, and into a county that was outside the sheriff’s jurisdiction. Roget glanced at Bascot. Camville’s writ authorised the arrest of any individual that was thought to be suspicious. Grimson, his wife, Askil and Dunny could be taken into custody and detained until proof of their presence in Hull over the ten-day period was obtained. That way, the onus would be on them, rather than on the sheriff, to supply witnesses that would attest to Sven’s veracity, either in person or by signed documentation. If Grimson was telling the truth, there would be no choice but to accept his word that the steersman and young sailor had accompanied him and his wife. It was not likely that any of the Hull merchants would have knowledge of the identity of the men who had crewed the fisherman’s boat.

Bascot gave Roget an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Until they had further reason to suspect Grimson and the others of the crimes, it would be precipitate to arrest them. The Templar, however, did not intend to let them believe that he and Roget found their story entirely credible. There had to be a reason for Grimson’s reluctance to admit his whereabouts during the times the prostitutes had been murdered. Bascot was sure he was lying about something and until the truth of his tale was determined, he did not intend to allow the wealthy fisherman to believe his story had been accepted.

“For now, Grimson, I will advise Sheriff Camville that you and your wife do not seem to have any complicity in the crimes he is investigating,” Bascot said. “But I am sure he will send a messenger to the bailiff in Hull with a request that steps be taken to confirm your claim. Until that is done, both you and your wife, along with Askil and Dunny, will remain in Grimsby and report each evening to Bailiff Thorson. If any of you fail to appear as instructed, you will be declared outlaw and all your goods and chattels confiscated.”

Grimson’s pale face mottled red with fury as Bascot was speaking. “You cannot place such a restriction on me,” he shouted in outrage. “You are not an officer of the king.”

“Sir Bascot may not be, but I am,” Roget interjected, his fearsome visage set in a merciless smile as he pulled Gerard Camville’s writ from the inside of his tunic and held it up so the sheriff’s seal could be seen dangling from the bottom. “You will do as the Templar says, or suffer the consequences.”

L
ATER THAT EVENING, AFTER A FINE MEAL OF POACHED SALMON and vegetable pottage provided by Thorson’s plump and amiable wife, Bascot and Roget sat with the bailiff in his office over a jug of excellent Spanish wine and discussed the probability of Sven and Joan Grimson, along with the two sailors, being responsible for the recent murders.

“I still don’t believe that any of them, especially Sven or Joan, are capable of such grisly acts,” Thorson said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers over his swelling paunch as he mused. “On the other hand, if it was a Templar knight that had been murdered, and it was known he was the one that killed Robert Scallion, I might say differently. Such revenge would be understandable. But killing two harlots and carving one of them up—no, I do not think so.”

“Well, if Grimson is telling the truth and they were all in Hull at the time the women were attacked,” Roget said, tapping the list of names the boat owner had given them of the people he had called on in Hull, “then they are in the clear. Lincoln is a far piece and they could not have been in two places at once, especially as the two harlots were murdered four days apart.”

Thorson looked down at his wine cup, and then said slowly, “Well, that’s just it, you see, Captain, while Sven and Joan might not have been in Lincoln, it is possible that Askil and Dunny were.”

“How so?” Bascot asked. “Surely Lincoln is too far from where they claim to be. Even if they obtained fast horses, it is still a long way from Hull.”

“Ah, well, it would seem so to a landsman, but not to one who is accustomed to travel by water.”

Thorson’s words took the Templar and Roget by surprise, as did his explanation.

“When I was a young man,” the bailiff began, “I worked on the fishing boats and spent a little time as one of the crew on the ferry that plies across the Humber estuary. It goes from Barton on the southern bank to Hessle on the north side and back again. Not too far from Barton is the mouth of the Ancholme River, which, with a small craft, is navigable as far as Bishopbridge. Now Bishopbridge is not too far from Lincoln—perhaps fifteen miles—and close to Ermine Street. Sven’s boat is large enough to tow a small skiff, or even take one on board—they are often laden for use in times of emergency, such as when a leak is sprung. If Sven were to anchor his boat on the southern shore of the Humber, near Barton, he and Joan could have taken the ferry across to Hessle and hired horses to ride to Hull. It is a very short journey, not above five miles. Once there, they could have visited the people whose names Sven gave us while, at the same time, Askil and Dunny took the skiff and sailed down the Ancholme to Bishopbridge. The two sailors could then have easily walked to Ermine Street and into Lincoln. It would not have taken them long; both men are fit and able to cover the distance in a few hours.”

Thorson paused for a moment to see that his listeners had understood the route he had described. To his gratification, the Templar and Roget grasped it quickly. Both knew the territory along the northern stretch of Ermine Street fairly well and that the village of Bishopbridge lay only a short distance from the main road.

Bascot nodded and expanded on what Thorson had suggested. “And, once the seamen had walked to Lincoln, they could have murdered the prostitute that was killed in our chapel and then stayed within the town until they took care of despatching the second harlot a few days later. It would then be a simple matter to return to Barton by the same route they had taken on the outward journey and wait for Sven and Joan’s return. Grimson’s story would still ring true, for he and his wife would, in fact, have visited the men he has named in Hull and there would be no witness to deny the two sailors were anywhere other than, as he said, on board his boat.”

It was not difficult to see how such a plan as Thorson suggested would have worked. A landsman would never visualise such a route but to a sailor, familiar with the many rivers and small tributaries that flow in the coastal region of Lincolnshire, it would be a logical one.

Thorson was careful to add a reservation. “I do not say that the Grimsons contrived with Askil and Dunny to do what I have suggested, only that they
could
have done. The two seamen would have had to make haste back to Sven’s ship after the second murder, which was only three days ago, but it is still possible. To sail from Grimsby to Hull, or vice versa, does not take long if the wind and tide are with you. And Grimson admitted he did not return until yesterday morning when the incoming tide was at its peak,” he added, gesturing at the tide table behind him. “I would suggest you try to find out where Sven docked his boat when he weighed anchor in the Humber estuary. While he could have gone directly to Hull and instructed Askil and Dunny to sail the skiff across the Humber to the Ancholme, it would be more expeditious for him to take his boat to the southern shore and he and Joan take the ferry to the main port. That way, there would not be any chance of the sailors being seen when they left Hull. There are many small craft that ply up and down the Ancholme; one more would have not been remarked upon and, when they returned, Grimson’s boat would be waiting for them on the southern shore.” He shook his head. “May God forgive me if I am casting suspicion where it is not warranted, but it is my duty to ensure that the sheriff is apprised of these facts.”

“I understand, Bailiff,” Bascot replied. “He will be grateful for your help.”