Crowner Royal (Crowner John Mysteries) by Bernard Knight

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?’
    The little man smiled happily. ‘It’s much nearer here than it was from Devon, Crowner! But why exactly do they want you to accompany the treasure? It’s hardly coroner’s business?’
    De Wolfe shrugged. ‘I suspect they want someone reputable to keep a close watch on the safety of these chests while they’re outside the security of Winchester Castle.’
    Gwyn wiped some ale from his luxuriant moustaches and went to refill his pot. ‘Where is it to be moved to in London?’ he asked.
    ‘I don’t know, it’s