Shroud of Dishonour (2005) by Maureen Ash

Author:Maureen Ash [Ash, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Maureen Ash
ISBN: 9780425237908
Publisher: Berkley

Sixteen

LATER 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.

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