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Authors: Maureen Ash
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adulterated either at the apiary or somewhere in transit. I would also like to speak to the bailiff, Severtsson. Since it was he who took the honey to his uncle’s home, it may be that someone tampered with one of the pots while they were in his possession. He may even be able to give us the name of a person who could have done so.”
Nicolaa agreed. “The answer to these questions may well give us a clearer guide of the direction our search should take. De Marins, go to Preceptor d’Arderon. Tell him what has happened and that you are requesting permission, on my behalf, to speak to the beekeeper and the bailiff. I do not think he will object.”
“I am sure he will not, lady,” Bascot said. “It might also be worthwhile to ascertain how many pots of this grade were harvested and to whom they were sold. If they were tampered with before they were delivered, there may be others in the town that are poisoned.”
Nicolaa acknowledged, regretfully, that such a possibility might be the case and then, turning to Roget, gave the captain his orders. “There will be unrest in the town once news of these latest deaths spreads. I shall send for the town bailiff and ask for his support in keeping all of Lincoln’s citizens calm, but it may prove a difficult task. Tell your men to deal gently with any who create a disturbance. This situation is bound to frighten the townspeople, and we must try to assuage their disquietude, not aggravate it. If you find there is a need for more men to patrol the streets, you may ask Ernulf to send some of the castle men-at-arms to your assistance.”
When she had finished, both men rose to leave, and Nicolaa said, “Let us pray that God will guide our efforts and enable us to snare this knave before anyone else dies.”
W HEN BASCOT ARRIVED AT THE TEMPLAR ENCLAVE, Everard d’Arderon was standing at the edge of the practice ground watching a serjeant put a couple of newly initiated men-at-arms through a drill with short swords. The preceptor listened with a grave countenance as he was told of the deaths that had taken place in the town, and how it was subsequently found that the second pot which had contained the poisoned honey had, like the jar in the castle kitchen, come from the Nettleham apiary. He quickly gave his permission for Bascot to go to Nettleham and also to elicit the help of Ivor Severtsson, the bailiff.
“Severtsson has only held the post for a couple of years, although he was employed in a minor capacity at Wragby for some time before I gave him the office,” d’Arderon said. “I am sure, since it was his own family members who were very nearly poisoned, that he will do his utmost to help you. He lives in the manor house at Wragby, which is not too far from the apiary, and I can arrange for him to meet you at Nettleham village, if you wish.”
D’Arderon shook his head sadly as he added, “These deaths make me wonder if the position of bailiff at that property is not ill-fated in some way. If Reinbald or his wife had been harmed, it would have been the second time that tragedy had struck the man who has held the post.”
“How so?” Bascot asked.
“The former bailiff was a man named John Rivelar,” d’Arderon explained. “He had a son who lived with him, and just about the time I came to Lincoln two years ago, the boy was discovered to have been consorting with brigands and was taken into custody by Sheriff Camville. When the lad was hanged for his crimes, Rivelar became so distraught that, a few days later, he was taken with a seizure of his heart and died.” He sighed heavily. “As I said, the post seems to be ill-fated.”
“How long has the property been in the Order’s possession?”
“Quite a number of years,” the preceptor replied. “It was bequeathed to us by a widow whose youngest son was a member of our brotherhood and stationed in Outremer. He was killed during a skirmish with the Saracens in the Holy Land only a few months
Nicolaa agreed. “The answer to these questions may well give us a clearer guide of the direction our search should take. De Marins, go to Preceptor d’Arderon. Tell him what has happened and that you are requesting permission, on my behalf, to speak to the beekeeper and the bailiff. I do not think he will object.”
“I am sure he will not, lady,” Bascot said. “It might also be worthwhile to ascertain how many pots of this grade were harvested and to whom they were sold. If they were tampered with before they were delivered, there may be others in the town that are poisoned.”
Nicolaa acknowledged, regretfully, that such a possibility might be the case and then, turning to Roget, gave the captain his orders. “There will be unrest in the town once news of these latest deaths spreads. I shall send for the town bailiff and ask for his support in keeping all of Lincoln’s citizens calm, but it may prove a difficult task. Tell your men to deal gently with any who create a disturbance. This situation is bound to frighten the townspeople, and we must try to assuage their disquietude, not aggravate it. If you find there is a need for more men to patrol the streets, you may ask Ernulf to send some of the castle men-at-arms to your assistance.”
When she had finished, both men rose to leave, and Nicolaa said, “Let us pray that God will guide our efforts and enable us to snare this knave before anyone else dies.”
W HEN BASCOT ARRIVED AT THE TEMPLAR ENCLAVE, Everard d’Arderon was standing at the edge of the practice ground watching a serjeant put a couple of newly initiated men-at-arms through a drill with short swords. The preceptor listened with a grave countenance as he was told of the deaths that had taken place in the town, and how it was subsequently found that the second pot which had contained the poisoned honey had, like the jar in the castle kitchen, come from the Nettleham apiary. He quickly gave his permission for Bascot to go to Nettleham and also to elicit the help of Ivor Severtsson, the bailiff.
“Severtsson has only held the post for a couple of years, although he was employed in a minor capacity at Wragby for some time before I gave him the office,” d’Arderon said. “I am sure, since it was his own family members who were very nearly poisoned, that he will do his utmost to help you. He lives in the manor house at Wragby, which is not too far from the apiary, and I can arrange for him to meet you at Nettleham village, if you wish.”
D’Arderon shook his head sadly as he added, “These deaths make me wonder if the position of bailiff at that property is not ill-fated in some way. If Reinbald or his wife had been harmed, it would have been the second time that tragedy had struck the man who has held the post.”
“How so?” Bascot asked.
“The former bailiff was a man named John Rivelar,” d’Arderon explained. “He had a son who lived with him, and just about the time I came to Lincoln two years ago, the boy was discovered to have been consorting with brigands and was taken into custody by Sheriff Camville. When the lad was hanged for his crimes, Rivelar became so distraught that, a few days later, he was taken with a seizure of his heart and died.” He sighed heavily. “As I said, the post seems to be ill-fated.”
“How long has the property been in the Order’s possession?”
“Quite a number of years,” the preceptor replied. “It was bequeathed to us by a widow whose youngest son was a member of our brotherhood and stationed in Outremer. He was killed during a skirmish with the Saracens in the Holy Land only a few months
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