Murder for Christ's Mass by Maureen Ash Page A

the ointment doesn’t heal his lip,” Maud said to Lucia with an unusual flash of temerity, “there would be little point in Stephen learning the gestures, for once we return home, no one except he would know what they meant.”
    “But many of the movements are simple and easily comprehended, Maud,” Lucia protested, “even by those not familiar with the meaning of them. I have seen the Templar’s servant use them with many people—to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ for example, or to ask that a particular dish be passed to him when he is serving his master. Besides,” she added defiantly, “I am willing to learn them even if you are not. Then, when I am in Stephen’s company, he can convey his thoughts to me and we can have speech together.”
    Lucia gave her cousin a disdainful glance as she added, “I would have thought that you, as his mother, would be anxious to do likewise.”
    Egelina gave her younger daughter a reproving look for her impertinence and changed the direction of the conversation by asking Eustachia if she had made a choice of material for her wedding gown, even though a date had not yet been set for her daughter and Richard’s marriage. It was a question to which her elder daughter responded with alacrity, conscious of her mother’s purpose. The awkward moment passed but it was nonetheless obvious that Lucia’s disapproval, and the reason for it, had impressed Maud. She, in common with most people, even those of the nobility, was not literate and although Stephen had been taught to read and write by a private tutor, she could not communicate with him through the written word because of her inability to read. But if, like Lucia, she learned the gestures the Templar’s mute servant used, she would be able to hold a conversation with the son she loved so dearly. Hesitantly, in a whispered aside, Maud promised her young cousin that she would speak to her husband about the matter.
    As the women fell to suggesting materials that might be suitable for Eustachia’s gown, and offering advice on trimmings, shoes and jewels, Nicolaa returned to her consideration of the motive behind the murder of the clerk. She was glad Gerard had asked Bascot de Marins to investigate the death. The Templar had a forte for uncovering the truth behind men’s actions, and if the murder was connected to embezzlement in the mint, she was sure he would discover it.
    If the worst happened and de Marins found that a treasure trove was also involved in the crime, the king would need to be quickly apprised of the situation. In such an explosive situation, she decided, it would be best if she took upon herself the responsibility for doing so. She had enjoyed a long friendship with the king and, unlike Gerard and many other nobles, had a fondness for John. His suspicious nature was the result of being used as a pawn by the squabbling members of his family throughout the whole of his life; in truth he was intelligent, witty and, when the occasion demanded it, a more than competent military commander. Even though the king and Gerard were not complaisant with each other, she knew that John held her own person in high esteem and would not question her honesty. For her husband’s well-being, it was fortunate this was so.
     
     
     
    THE WITHAM RIVER HAD FLOODED ITS BANKS WHEN the heavy rains had fallen on Lincoln two days before, and the water was just now beginning to recede as Bascot and Gianni crossed the bridge below Briggate. The ground on both sides of the river was marshy, and it was not until they took a lane that led eastward towards Canwick and the ground began to rise that their mount could step out freely, its hooves finally unhindered by the sucking mud. As they rode, the Templar spoke to Gianni over his shoulder and instructed the boy to keep his wax tablet tucked in his scrip while they were at the manor house.
    “Sir Richard told me that Legerton is very conscious of his rights as an officer of the crown and