Crowner's Quest by Bernard Knight Read Free Book Online Page A

Mortaigne: it was one of the titles – to a Normandy province – that the King had recently restored to him, as part of his forgiveness for having plotted against him. The Prince had been across the Channel for most of the time since Richard’s release last March, but he was reported to have been seen back in England recently.
    ‘Why shouldn’t the bishop talk to his sovereign’s brother?’ Gwyn always contradicted the clerk on principle.
    Thoughtfully, de Wolfe washed down his bread and cheese with a swig of the sour cider. ‘It bears keeping in mind, though. Both Bishop Marshal – and his Precentor – were supporters of John’s treachery last year, though I can’t see any connection with our dead priest. But keep your ear to the ground, Thomas.’
    When their morning repast was finished, the coroner spent a few laborious minutes at his Latin lesson, silently mouthing the simple phrases from the parchment supplied by his mentor. Thomas watched him covertly, wishing he could use his considerable teaching skills to help his master, but conscious of the coroner’s sensitivity over his inability to read and write. Before long, de Wolfe dropped the vellum roll impatiently and stood up, stooping slightly as his knuckles rested on the table. ‘It’s too early to go down to the cathedral – the priests will still be at their high mass. I’ll walk across to have a word with our sheriff and see if I can get any sense out of him about how we pursue this killing.’
    He pushed through the sacking and stumped down the narrow stairs, bending his head to avoid the low roof of rough stone, built by Saxon masons under Norman direction. Rougemont had been erected on William’s direct orders in 1067 after he had captured Exeter following an eighteen-day siege. It was said that the Conqueror had personally paced out the foundations for the keep and it was towards this that John made his way. The castle occupied the high north-eastern part of Exeter, cutting off a corner of the city walls, first built by the Romans. Outside this inner ward, beyond a deep ditch, was the wide zone of the outer bailey, itself protected by an earth bank and a wooden stockade. Here, a jumble of shacks and huts housed soldiers, their families and their animals – a cross between an army camp and a farm.
    De Wolfe’s loping strides took him across the inner ward, surrounded by crenellated walls of red sandstone. As he walked through the frozen mud towards the keep, he heard chanting from the tiny chapel of St Mary on his right, where the castle chaplain was celebrating Christ Mass. On his left was the Shire Court, a bare stone box where the sheriff held his county court and the King’s Justices came at intervals to hold the Eyre of Assize. His destination was straight ahead, almost against the further curtain wall, which ran along the edge of a low cliff above Northernhay. The keep was a squat structure of two storeys above an undercroft, a semi-basement that housed the castle gaol. The entrance was up wide wooden steps that led to a door on the first floor. In times of siege, the stairs could be thrown down to prevent attack from ground level, though Rougemont had not been at war for almost sixty years.
    As John walked across the inner bailey, familiar sights, sounds and smells assailed him – the neighing of horses in stalls built against the walls where tattered huts also housed kitchens, wash-houses, and the shanty dwellings of senior soldiers and castle servants. Chickens, pigs and goats wandered through the mire, adding their ordure to the rubbish trodden into the mud, where hardly a blade of grass survived. The Yuletide holiday seemed to make little difference to the usual chaotic routine of life. Smoke rose from a score of cooking fires, while men-at-arms, their women and a few ragged children criss-crossed the busy area.
    A soldier, wearing a thick leather jerkin and a round helmet with a nose-guard, stood at the foot of the staircase to