Free Crowner Royal (Crowner John Mysteries) by Bernard Knight Page A

exceptional and his insatiable curiosity had given him an encyclopaedic knowledge.
    ‘What brings you to this den of iniquity, Thomas?’ asked de Wolfe. ‘Are you pining for our brilliant company or have you something to tell us?’
    Gwyn reached out and dragged another stool for the clerk to sit on. ‘Do you want a cup of wine, Thomas?’ he asked solicitously. ‘It’s lousy stuff, the ale-wife says it’s from the Loire, but I think she means just taken out of the river there!’
    His friend shook his head, declining to compound his visit to a tavern by actually drinking there.
    ‘I just called in to tell you something I heard about the dead man we saw today,’ he said earnestly. He dropped his voice and looked covertly about the taproom, though the other patrons seemed indifferent to their conversation.
    ‘At supper tonight in the abbey refectory, the death of Basil of Reigate was a favourite subject for conversation, as everyone knew that his body had been brought back for burial. Then afterwards, I took a turn around the cloister, as did many others to aid their digestion and gossip some more.’
    ‘Mary, Mother of God, get to the bloody point, will you!’ hissed de Wolfe, who was afraid that Thomas was getting as long-winded as Gwyn when it came to telling a story.
    ‘Well, a novitiate that I know slightly, took me aside and said that he was very distressed, as Basil had been a close friend.’ Thomas hesitated and looked a little embarrassed. ‘In fact, I rather think that they might have been more than good friends, may God forgive them.’
    The coroner was not interested in the morals of Westminster clerics. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Thomas?’ he snapped.
    ‘This young man knew I was the coroner’s clerk and said he wanted to do all he could to bring his friend’s killer to justice. He told me that a few days ago, Basil had confided in him that his life might be in danger because he had overheard a seditious conversation in the palace.’
    Gwyn stared at him through the ginger frizz on his lumpy face.
    ‘What in hell is a “seditious conversation”?’ he grunted.
    ‘And why should it put this Basil in mortal danger?’ added de Wolfe.
    The little clerk wriggled uncomfortably. ‘He was quite vague about this, Crowner,’ he said apologetically. ‘It seems Basil was not very forthcoming about the matter – and then the novitiate, Robin Byard by name, was also quite furtive when he told me.’
    ‘You must know more that that!’ snapped de Wolfe. ‘Or why bother to tell us at all?’
    Thomas almost twitched with nervousness at his master’s impatience. ‘It seems that during his duties in the guest chambers, Basil was behind a screen in one of the rooms, checking blankets in a chest. Two people came in and were unaware of him, but started speaking of something that would get them hanged if it was made known!’
    ‘So what was this something?’ demanded Gwyn, before John could get out the same words.
    ‘That’s the problem, Basil wouldn’t tell Robin, for fear of putting him in similar jeopardy,’ gabbled Thomas. ‘Neither would he say who the people were.’
    ‘So why did he bother to mention it at all?’ rasped the coroner.
    ‘He wanted help and advice, for it seems that in his anxiety to hear what was said, he tipped over the screen and the two persons saw that he had been listening,’ explained the clerk. ‘Basil gabbled some excuse and ran away, but they obviously knew who he was – and ever since he had been expecting to be silenced – which seems to have happened, for this killing was no robbery.’
    John and Gwyn looked at each other over the rims of their ale mugs. ‘Sounds a tall story, but the fact is that the fellow was stabbed!’ said Gwyn. ‘And you’ve no idea what this secret conversation was about?’
    ‘We’d better have a word with this fellow Byard,’ rumbled John. ‘But why did Basil tell this apprentice monk, rather than someone in