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the fair and if he was found wanting in his duties, he would have to pay the cost for that failing to any family member who had suffered from the loss of the deceased. Even villeins, absconded from a lord, would merit a few pieces of silver as a consideration to their master. Bascot knew that Camville was nervous of the new king, John, who had ascended to the throne the previous year after the death of his brother, Richard. This was so even though, while Richard had been away on Crusade, Camville and Prince John—as he had been then—had conspired to overthrow the chancellor that Lionheart had left to rule England in his stead. Reprisals had been heavy on Camville when Richard returned to England after being imprisoned in Austria on his way home from the Crusades. The king had taken the shrievalty away from him. Although John had restored it when he had gained the crown, the new king was not as trusting as his brother and watched Camville with a wary eye, for he knew how easily he could be swayed to betrayal. Had it not been that John regarded Nicolaa de la Haye as an old and trusted friend, it was doubtful he would have reappointed Camville to his post, and the sheriff was aware of how tenuous his position was. If the people of Lincoln complained loud enough about their sheriff, the king would have no recourse but to listen and perhaps give the lucrative post to another.
    When Nicolaa spoke, it was quietly. “The alehouse is on land held in fee from the Haye demesne, Gerard. Anything that happens on property from which the Haye coffers gain revenue is ultimately my responsibility. It is, therefore, right and proper that I personally oversee the search for the perpetrator of these murders. At least initially, just until the fair is over and our visitors have left, which is only a matter of a week or so. And, I think, the townspeople will accept my guidance. If they do, it will soften any complaint they may make to the king.”
    Camville relaxed enough under her suggestion to stop his pacing. He nodded. “You will use Haye men?” he asked.
    “De Marins and Ernulf have already viewed the bodies. They can make further enquiries into the matter and I will inform the coroner what is being done.”
    Nicolaa, with a concise movement of her hands, pressed them down on the table top and rose, signifying the end of the discussion. “See if you can find out the identity of the two strangers, de Marins. Also enquire about the Jew—his own people may be able to tell you if he had incurred the enmity of a disgruntled creditor or was, perhaps, at odds with one of his own race.” She thought for a moment, then said, “This alewife—were she and her husband complaisant with each other, I wonder? It may be she knows more than she is telling. Could she have been responsible for the deaths, do you think?”
    Bascot shook his head. “She has the strength, I think, but not the wits or the boldness. And it took wits and boldness to kill and hide three bodies unseen for at least a day.”
    Lady Nicolaa gave his words some thought. “Still, it is worth investigating,” she said. “See her again. Be discreet, but thorough. You may call on Ernulf whenever you require his assistance.”
    With that, he and the serjeant had been dismissed and Bascot had left the chamber, feeling a tinge of admiration for the economy of Lady Nicolaa’s direction and the ease with which she had quelled the uncertain temper of her husband. Such diplomacy was a rare gift.
    Bascot ruminated on the task he had been given as he sipped his ale and enjoyed the delicious sweetness of the brew. How was he to set about finding out the identity of two strangers in a town half-full of people not ordinarily resident here? The smell of the ale in his cup rose strongly to his nostrils and he felt a jog at his memory. The reek of ale in the taproom earlier that day had been just as powerful, the room filled with the odour even though there had been not a drop poured in any