Crowner Royal (Crowner John Mysteries) by Bernard Knight

muttered a greeting in reply and waited for enlightenment.
    ‘A lay brother from the chapel of Baynard’s Castle in the city came on a donkey a short while ago, sent by the priest there to tell us that a body had been recovered from the nearby foreshore. He was apparently someone in holy orders, and had the royal device displayed upon his robe.’
    John’s black eyebrows rose on his forehead.
    ‘Someone from here? Then surely it is likely to be that of the man who was stabbed on the landing stage yesterday. You heard about that?’
    The Keeper nodded. ‘Hugo de Molis informed me as soon as he had confirmed that Brother Basil had not returned. I understand that this probably falls within your remit as Coroner of the Verge?’
    De Wolfe nodded. ‘It most certainly does! My officer saw it happen and we only just missed catching the bastard who was responsible.’
    Nathaniel de Levelondes sank back on his stool as if unsteady on his feet. ‘The corpse is being held inside Baynard’s Castle until someone confirms it is indeed Basil of Reigate.’
    John rubbed the black stubble on his face. ‘I must go there at once – but I don’t know this fellow from Adam!’
    ‘No doubt Hugo de Molis can send someone with you who knew him. He will also be able to direct you to the castle.’
    Glad at last to have a proper case to deal with, the coroner was eager to be off and managed to find his way down to the purveyor’s chamber. Here de Molis dispatched one of the young clerks to accompany John and after gathering Gwyn and Thomas from their upstairs chamber, they collected their horses from the livery stables and set off, the clerk on a pony commandeered from another of the under-marshals who organised all transport for the palace. The coroner’s trio had ridden up from Exeter five weeks earlier and John had his old destrier Odin, while Gwyn kept to his big brown mare and Thomas rode a docile palfrey.
    The clerk, a cheerful young man named Edwin, was happy to have a few hours away from his tedious duties in the stores and regaled them on the way with accounts of the places they passed during the two-mile journey. They walked their steeds across the Palace Yard between the Great Hall and the wall of the abbey to reach the gateway into King Street, commonly known as ‘The Royal Way’. The wide track led northward, crossing the Clowson Brook, with houses on either side.
    ‘That lane goes down to Enedenhithe, a wharf on the river,’ said Edwin, with a cheerful wave of his hand. He pointed to a short side street lined with larger stone houses, which lay on their right. ‘Many of the senior court officers live there – and some of the king’s ministers!’ he added with almost proprietorial satisfaction.
    Beyond this, the houses petered out and there were meadows, those toward the riverbank being called ‘Scotland’ by the clerk for some obscure reason. At the small village of Charing, the road turned to follow the curve of the river, where the Hospital of St Mary’s Rounceval was placed on the bend.
    From there up to the Preceptory of the Templars, with their new round church, the track followed the raised strand above the edge of the river, the clerk enthusing about some large houses, gardens and orchards that were scattered along both sides. By now the city was looming in front of them behind its great wall, as the road dipped down into the valley of the Fleet. The city was already overflowing beyond its walls, set out by the Romans in a great irregular half-circle. Each end abutted on the riverbank, the further one finishing at William the Bastard’s great tower that still loomed threateningly, reminding the citizens of its royal power.
    John and his two henchmen had been to London before, but the sheer size of the place never ceased to impress them. The great bulk of St Paul’s stuck up brazenly, shepherded by dozens of church spires and towers across the city.
    ‘That’s Baynard’s Castle there!’ pointed Edwin,