He turned to Hugo de Molis, who was not very pleased to have been dragged from his duties for what he considered to be a fruitless enquiry.
‘Sir Hugo, can you confirm that the dead man crossed the river on the day of his death?’
Hugo de Molis grudgingly agreed that the dead man’s duties had entailed him going across to Lambeth and back again.
He also agreed that though he would have had a substantial purse of money on the outward journey, his empty scrip on returning would not have provided a motive for robbery.
The coroner then enquired whether the nature of his work could have made him privy to any dangerous intelligence.
De Molis sarcastically replied that unless having advance knowledge of a rise in the price of carrots or onions was hazardous, he could not see much risk to someone who was but a lowly palace employee. ‘But the Guest Master can tell you more about his duties,’ he said with an air of dismissive finality.
This official was a plump sub-deacon, one of the more senior grades of those in clerical lower orders. He had an oily manner, full of smiles, which straightway caused John to distrust him. When it came to assessing people, the coroner had a profound capacity for instant likes and dislikes.
The smiles suddenly changed into doleful sorrow, with hand-wringing and sighs, when he bemoaned the sad demise of his trusted assistant, Basil of Reigate.
‘What were his duties?’ demanded de Wolfe. ‘Did he work mainly under you or was he attached to the Purveyor’s chamber?’
‘He was under my direction, but his function was to ensure that all supplies for the lodging and comfort of palace guests were amply maintained without shortages. To do this, he constantly topped up necessities from the Steward’s department, obtaining goods under my authority.’
De Wolfe had no interest in the internal workings of the palace and moved on impatiently. ‘How much contact would he have had with the people staying there?’
The Guest Master grimaced at such an unexpected question.
‘I don’t really follow you, sir!’ he exclaimed. ‘He was in and out of the guest chambers all the time, but it was not his place to engage in conversation with the guests. He was a lowly official and sometimes we have earls, dukes and even princes staying in the palace.’ He puffed himself up, as if he was responsible for attracting such nobility.
‘But he would have opportunities to overhear what was being said by those guests?’ persisted John.
‘I suppose so, unless he was deaf!’ snapped the sub-deacon. ‘But a good servant must be discreet and avoid any eavesdropping. I cannot see the point of these questions, coroner!’
‘That’s because you are not privy to my own knowledge,’ retorted de Wolfe and dismissed the man, realising that he was of no help to his enquiry. The two monks and the sergeant of the guard gave their factual evidence of the happenings on the landing-stage, then the coroner scowled around the ring of jurors and asked if anyone else had any information at all. After a resounding silence, it was obvious that nothing more was to be learned and Gwyn led the jury out of the hall and across the yard to the gate in the wall separating the palace from the abbey. With de Wolfe and Thomas walking behind, the small procession went past the chapter house and dormitory to the abbey mortuary. This was a small wooden building behind the infirmary chapel, right at the back of the abbey precinct, towards the wall that ran above the Tyburn stream.
The mortal remains of Basil of Reigate had spent a night lying before the altar in the adjacent chapel, but the effects of immersion and the hot weather had caused the abbey precentor to have it removed to the mortuary. As this was next to the latrines of the reredorter, the developing odour would not be so noticeable, but the unfortunate jurors had to come much closer, to file past the corpse while the coroner and his officer displayed the stab wound in the chest. Outside again, they stood thankfully in the fresh air while de Wolfe concluded the inquest on the spot, it not being worth trailing back to the hall.
‘The cause of death is clear, being drowning after a stab wound of the chest which you have all seen,’ he said grimly. ‘The attack was witnessed by my officer and some of you also saw the altercation on the jetty, though regrettably no one was able to recognise the assailant. The victim would probably have died from the stabbing alone, but it caused him to fall into the river and drown.’
He glared again at the circle of faces. ‘All we can do today is to come to a provisional verdict, so that he can be decently buried. If and when any further information comes to light, then I will have to reopen the inquest. But for now, I need you to return a verdict, which I cannot imagine will be anything but murder by a person unknown.’
He jabbed a finger at the sergeant. ‘You can be spokesman for your fellow jurors, so now deliberate amongst yourselves and tell me what you decide.’
His tone indicated that there would be trouble if they dared to deviate from his suggestion and within half a minute the foreman announced that they fully agreed with him. The participants rapidly dispersed, all seeking their noontide dinner and de Wolfe, Gwyn and Thomas began walking through the abbey grounds back to the house in Long Ditch.
Though John had decided to go to the Lesser Hall for supper each night, they took dinner at home. Throughout the country, noon was traditionally the time for the main meal of the day, though a newfangled habit was creeping in to the upper layers of society of having a substantial supper in the early evening — a fad subscribed to by John’s snobbish wife Matilda, before she buried herself in a nunnery.
Thomas divided his eating loyalties between the abbey refectory and his master’s house and today accepted de Wolfe’s invitation to sample Osanna’s efforts. There was not much that she could do wrong in grilling herrings and even Thomas, who normally had the appetite of a mouse, did justice to the large platter of sizzling fish that was put before them, after a bowl of vegetable broth. Followed by frumenty and washed down with ale and cider, they felt comfortably satisfied and sat talking afterwards in the downstairs room of John’s lodging.
He had both rooms of the two-storeyed cottage, Aedwulf and Osanna living in a thatched hut in the backyard, where there was also the kitchen shed, a pigsty, a privy and a wash-house. They lived and ate in the lower room, into which the door to the lane opened and John slept in the smaller upper chamber, Gwyn using a pallet in the living room.
Though the circular firepit in the centre of the earthen floor held only cold ashes in this weather, they sat around it from force of habit, John in the wooden chair and the others hunched on stools.
‘The Justiciar told me this morning that we have to go on a journey very shortly,’ announced John, after refilling his ale-pot from a jug on the table.
‘To Gloucester already?’ queried Gwyn. ‘But the old queen hasn’t arrived yet.’
De Wolfe shook his head. ‘Nothing to do with that, this is a quick jaunt to Winchester and back to escort some treasure chests. I’ve not got the details yet, but it looks like a five- or six-day trip. It’ll make a change from this place, anyway.’
Thomas, usually very reluctant to go far on a horse, was for once keen to go with them. ‘It would be pleasant to see Winchester once again, now that my circumstances have taken a turn for the better,’ he said eagerly. ‘Perhaps I would have a chance to see my parents.’
His elderly father was a somewhat impoverished knight who lived near the old capital and Thomas himself had attended the cathedral school there and gone on to take holy orders.
‘Your last visit there was a happy one, Thomas!’ observed John, referring to the joyous occasion when his clerk had gone to Winchester to be received back into the Church by the bishop, after the allegations of indecent assault had been proved false. ‘But are you sure you want to wear down your backside on a horse once again?’