The House of Crows by Paul C. Doherty Read Free Book Online

equal relish. Once he had finished, Cranston beckoned over Banyard, who had been standing in an alcove watching them closely.
    ‘Sit down, man. Where are the corpses?’
    ‘Upstairs, each in their chamber,’ the landlord replied, wiping his hands carefully on a napkin. ‘It’s good that you ate, my lord Coroner, before you viewed them.’
    Cranston turned on his stool and leaned against the wall. ‘Corpses don’t upset my humours, man. Human wickedness does. Sir Henry was killed when?’
    ‘Late last night. He went into Sir Oliver’s chamber.’ He pointed to a slattern, a jolly, bouncing girl with long blonde hair. She was at the far side of the tavern, busily serving a number of boatmen and laughing at their banter. ‘Christina saw the door open and went in. You could have heard the screams at Whitefriars. I ran upstairs. Sir Oliver was in his coffin, Sir Henry dead as a doornail upon the floor.’
    ‘And where were his companions, the other knights?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Most of them were in their chambers,’ Banyard replied. ‘Most of them?’ Athelstan queried.
    Banyard smiled deprecatingly. ‘Brother, I have my hands full managing a tavern. I cannot tell you where each of my guests goes in the evening.’ Banyard grinned. ‘Though it would be interesting to speculate.’
    ‘What do you mean by that?’ Cranston demanded.
    ‘My lord Coroner, it’s best if you ask them.’
    ‘And so all the knights and representatives from Shrewsbury stay here?’ Athelstan asked. ‘Is that customary?’
    ‘Yes, it is,’ Cranston intervened. ‘Members of Parliament tend to sit according to their counties or lordships. The chancellor issues a writ, convoking a Parliament, to every sheriff in the kingdom. He then organises a meeting of the freeholders of the shire who elect their representatives.’ Cranston grasped his chin. ‘There have been Parliaments at Westminster for the last hundred years, and the Commons are becoming more organised.’
    ‘You know a lot, my lord Coroner.’ Banyard’s admiration was obvious.
    ‘Ahem, yes.’ Cranston cleared his throat. ‘I am writing a treatise.’
    Athelstan closed his eyes and just hoped Cranston wouldn’t wander off on some interminable lecture. The coroner must have caught his look because he grinned.
    ‘Suffice to say I’ve studied the whole question of Parliaments. However, as I have said, they are becoming more organised They have a speaker, they meet in their own chamber, and they have learnt not to grant taxes until certain demands are met. He blew his cheeks out. ‘Accordingly, many members know a Parliament is to be summoned months in advance.’
    ‘And that is what happened here,’ Banyard added. ‘Weeks ago the knights sent a courier asking me to set chambers aside. We have all the representatives from Shrewsbury here.’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ Cranston snapped, ‘but when did they arrive?’
    ‘Oh, nine days ago,’ Banyard replied. ‘Five days before the opening of Parliament.’
    ‘And before these deaths, nothing amiss happened?’
    ‘Nothing.’ The landlord shook his head. ‘Very little, my lord Coroner, except talking. They’re all very good at talking. They’d break their fast talking and return from Westminster to sit in the taproom here and gossip until even the dogs droop with exhaustion.’
    ‘And Bouchon’s death?’
    Banyard pointed across the room. ‘He and his companions were over there feasting and drinking. Oh, they were all full of themselves, though I noticed Bouchon looked quiet and withdrawn. They drank deep.’ Banyard pulled a face. ‘But why should I object? Well, on that particular evening, the gentlemen were discussing business of a different sort, the pleasures of the flesh.’
    ‘You mean a bawdy house?’
    ‘Yes.’ Banyard looked uncomfortable. ‘Now, there’s nothing of that sort here, sirs. I keep a respectable house, though I confess I turn a blind eye to whomever they bring back.’
    ‘This bawdy