A Deadly Penance

“I loved
The Alehouse Murders
. Combining marvelous period detail with characters whose emotions and personalities would ring true in any era, Maureen Ash has launched a terrific new historical mystery series. I’ll be standing in line for the next Templar Knight Mystery.”

—Jayne Ann Krentz,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A deft re-creation of a time and place, with characters you’ll want to meet again.”

—Margaret Frazer, national bestselling author

“An excellent mystery, very suspenseful and clever, with a sympathetic sleuth sure to captivate readers.”

—Sharon Kay Penman,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A delightful addition to the medieval mystery list. It is well researched and, even better, well written, with distinct, interesting characters and plot twists that I didn’t expect … I look forward to more books in the series.”

—Sharan Newman, author of
The Witch in the Well

“Fans of quality historical mysteries will be delighted with this debut … the first in what will hopefully be a long-running series of Templar Knights whodunits.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“[Ash’s] complex hero, Sir Bascot de Marins, immediately engages the reader as he tracks a ruthless killer in a mystery that will keep the reader guessing until the very end.”

—Victoria Thompson, national bestselling author

“A perplexing mystery with its flawed but sympathetic hero … An enjoyable read.”

—
Gumshoe Review

“Good, old-fashioned mystery. I look forward to more.”

—
Meritorious Mysteries

“Maureen Ash’s series will be very popular if the future novels are the quality of
The Alehouse Murders
.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“Interesting reading.”

—
San Jose Mercury News

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Maureen Ash

THE ALEHOUSE MURDERS

DEATH OF A SQUIRE

A PLAGUE OF POISON

MURDER FOR CHRIST’S MASS

SHROUD OF DISHONOUR

A DEADLY PENANCE

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

BERKLEY(r) PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime trade paperback edition / November 2011

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Ash, Maureen, 1939-

p. cm.—(A Templar knight mystery)

ISBN : 978-1-101-54561-4

1. Templars—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 3. Middle Ages—Fiction. I. Title.

PR9199.4.A885D43 2011

813’.6—dc22

2010054200

http://us.penguingroup.com

List of Characters

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

Bascot de Marins—
a Templar Knight

Gianni—
a mute Italian boy, former servant to Bascot

Nicolaa de la Haye—
hereditary castellan of Lincoln castle

Richard Camville—
Nicolaa’s son

Petronille de la Haye—
Nicolaa’s sister

Richard de Humez (Dickon)—
Petronille’s husband

Alinor de Humez—
Petronille’s daughter

Ernulf—
serjeant of Lincoln garrison

KNIGHTS AND SERVANTS FROM STAMFORD

Stephen Wharton—
knight

Hugh Bruet—
knight

Aubrey Tercel—
cofferer

Margaret—
sempstress

Elise—
maidservant

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MERCHANTS AND TRADESMEN IN LINCOLN TOWN

Guild Leaders and Their Families

Gildas—
barber-surgeon

Simon Adgate—
furrier

Clarice Adgate—
Simon’s wife

Thomas Wickson—
Chandler

Edith Wickson—
Thomas’ wife

Merisel Wickson—
Thomas’ daughter

John Sealsmith—
seal maker

Imogene Sealsmith—
John’s wife

Other Merchants and Tradesmen

Hacher—
barber-surgeon

Reinbald of Hungate—
wine merchant

Harald—
Reinbald’s nephew

AT RISEHOLME

Stoddard—
bailiff

Willi, Mark, Joan, Emma and Annie—
foundlings

OTHERS

Pinchbeck—
coroner

Everard d’Arderon—
Templar preceptor

Lambert—
clerk

Nicholas—
groom

Hedgset—
leech

Prologue

Lincolns hire—January 1177

T
HE AIR IN THE CONVENT CHAMBER WAS CLOSE, AND REDOLENT with the scent of purifying herbs. Outside, the stormy weather of the past few days had calmed, but it was still cold, and the casements were shuttered against the chill. The single source of warmth was from the burning embers of a brazier set in one corner.

Shadows danced and flickered from the light of candles set in sconces around the walls as the young woman sitting on the horseshoe-shaped rim of the birthing stool strained against the pain that had engulfed her for the last fourteen hours. Her long tangled braid of pale brown hair was darkened with perspiration, as was the thin shift she wore. Behind her stood a young and sturdy nun who provided a bulwark for the woman to lean against in the throes of her exertions. In front of the stool, crouching at the woman’s feet, was an older nun, the infirmarian of the convent, who was massaging the swollen mass of the mother’s belly with sweet oil of lavender and murmuring words of encouragement. The woman could feel her strength coming to an end. The room was beginning to swim in and out of her vision and she knew it for an incipient warning of unconsciousness. Against the incoming tide of darkness, she could hear the infirmarian’s soft voice urging her on. “Just one more try,” she said gently. “The babe is nearly here.” With what she knew would be her last effort, the woman did as she was bid and, to her relief, the child, with an angry howl of protest, slipped from her womb.

With deft hands, the infirmarian cut and tied the natal cord and wrapped the infant in a length of clean linen. Handing the swaddled bundle to the sister who had stood behind the birthing chair, she signalled for her to take the babe from the room. Then she bent to attend to the afterbirth.

“It is a boy,” she murmured as she helped the exhausted mother up from the stool and eased her onto a nearby pallet, “and he appears healthy. I have instructed that he be placed into the charge of a wet nurse, as arranged.”

The woman nodded. She had seen the gender of the child as he talchild aemerged and also the fuzzy growth of down that, moistened by birth fluids, lay like a cap of molten gold on his head. She did not make any protest at his removal. As the infirmarian had said, it had been agreed. And she was exhausted. Her bones felt as though they had no substance and were incapable of sustaining even the slightest movement. All that consumed her now was a desire to sink into the oblivion of sleep.

The woman closed her eyes as the nun, with a cloth dipped in warm water, cleansed her body of the detritus left by the birthing. It was imperative that she regain her strength for the trials that lay ahead. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she thought of them, for she had no doubt they would be even more daunting than the long months of her confinement. She would need all her wits about her if she was to survive.

The infirmarian, her task finished, quietly left the room. Outside, the sister who had taken the babe away returned, her arms empty and her hands folded inside the black sleeves of her habit.

“She will sleep now,” the senior nun said as she removed the capacious apron she had worn to protect her clothing. “I will leave her in your care while I attend to my duties in the infirmary. Sit with her until she awakens and then give her a bowl of hearty meat broth and a cup of ale. Encourage her to take as much of both as she can. She is very weak and her spirits are low; nourishment will help restore her vitality.”

“Is it certain she does not want to see the babe?” the other sister asked, her young face creased into lines of sympathy for the suffering the woman had endured. “Mayhap she will change her mind now that he is born.”

The infirmarian shook her head firmly, her countenance regretful. “No, I doubt she will rescind her decision. Soon, the boy will be given into the care of another, one who will see to his future welfare.” She gave a little sigh. “We must offer up prayers that the child has not inherited the morals of the man who sired him. If he has, I fear his life will be naught but a travail of s
orrow.”

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