Bloodstone by Paul Doherty Read Free Book Online Page B

poison.’ Athelstan caught a flicker of annoyance in the physician’s greedy eyes. ‘You’ll be paid. Now, my Lord Coroner, let us search.’
    As they did so Athelstan asked Cranston to send for Flaxwith and to tell him about Kilverby and his family. Sir John, moving around the chamber, chattered about how he and the dead man were old acquaintances, though not quite friends. How he was one of the executors of Kilverby’s will, adding that in the event of Lady Helen not giving him a child, the bulk of the dead merchant’s wealth, including this fine mansion, would go to Sir Robert’s only daughter, the recently wedded Alesia.
    ‘Her husband is also a goldsmith,’ Theobald offered. ‘Sir Robert had ceased his trading days. He was getting ready to leave  . . .’
    ‘Leave?’
    ‘Aye. Leave all this in the trusting hands of Alesia and her husband Edmond Pulick whilst Sir Robert went on pilgrimage to Santiago, Rome and Jerusalem though, some say,’ Theobald lowered his voice, ‘he was fleeing from the hellish Helen and her shadow, kinsman Adam.’ He paused as Crispin knocked on the lintel and enquired how long they would have to wait in the solar.
    ‘For as long as it takes,’ Cranston snapped. ‘Send up Master Flaxwith; he’s filled his belly enough.’
    ‘Oh, by the way, Crispin,’ Theobald called, ‘your eyes?’
    ‘Just the same,’ the clerk replied. ‘We’re all growing old, master physician.’
    Cranston waited for Crispin’s footsteps to fade then clapped his hands.
    ‘Friar, we’ve finished here, yes?’
    ‘We certainly have and found nothing,’ Athelstan agreed. ‘Only the wine, the flagon, cup and sweetmeats remain. Master Theobald, don’t forget to take them away.’
    ‘And eat them?’ the physician protested.
    ‘Nonsense.’ Athelstan laughed. ‘You have a cellar plagued by rats? Put the sweetmeats and the wine down there, you’ll soon discover if they are tainted. Oh, by the way, did you examine Kilverby’s fingertips?’
    ‘Nothing but ink and wine,’ the physician replied wearily. ‘No trace of any noxious potion.’
    Flaxwith appeared in the doorway.
    ‘Ah, Flaxwith.’ Athelstan waited until the physician, carrying jug, goblet and silver bowl, stomped off, grumbling under his breath about payment. ‘Flaxwith, with Sir John’s permission, I want you, whilst we are questioning our hosts in the solar, to have this door repaired. Once it is, I want it locked, barred and firmly sealed with the Lord Coroner’s signet so that no one can enter. Do you understand?’
    ‘Athelstan?’ Cranston queried.
    ‘Nothing is to leave this chamber. No one is to enter once Sir John and I have adjourned to the solar. Come on.’ Athelstan waved. ‘Sir John, the hours pass.’
    A short while later Cranston, Athelstan sitting beside him, stared round this wealthy family. Edmond Pulick had now joined Alesia. He was friendly-faced with sandy hair and a snub nose above a smiling mouth. Pleasant and discreet, Athelstan considered, though with sharp eyes. The precise way Pulick acted showed he was a merchant through and through, ready to assess and weigh everything in the balance. Athelstan studied the rest. Each nursed their own soul, which was full of what? God’s grace or murder, hatred, revenge or even just the love of killing? Certainly one of them was an assassin. Athelstan then smiled and mentally murmured ‘Mea culpa’ for his rushed judgement as Cranston’s first question revealed that others may well be involved.
    ‘Who gave Sir Robert the dish of sweetmeats?’
    ‘Not us,’ Crispin replied swiftly. ‘Sir Robert, God assoil him, entertained Prior Alexander and Brother Richer from St Fulcher’s yesterday afternoon. They brought the comfits as a gift. I even ate one.’
    ‘Why did they visit Sir Robert?’
    ‘Business,’ Crispin replied. ‘The Passio Christi was to be taken to St Fulcher’s today – they came to fix the hour. There were other matters. Sir Robert also