Crowner's Quest by Bernard Knight Page A

turned to re-enter the cathedral, de Wolfe told Gwyn to go back to Canons’ Row, question any servants he could find and arrange the inquest there for two hours after noon. Then, motioning the delighted Thomas to accompany him, he followed the four priests inside. The congregation had now left and the vast, flagstoned nave was empty except for a few sparrows and crows that had flown in through the unglazed windows to pick up the crumbs left by the hundreds who had gathered for Christ Mass before the great choir-screen that separated them from the choir and chancel.
    The Archdeacon strode across to the south side of the building, where between the outer wall and the great box of the choir a passage passed the base of the south tower. Here, a small door led out to the Chapter House, a small two-storey wooden building. There was talk of replacing it in stone, once the Bishop had agreed to give up part of the garden of his palace, which lay immediately to the east.
    ‘We can use the library above,’ said de Alencon. ‘It is quiet – and most fitting, as poor de Hane spent most of his time there.’ He led the way into the bare room, the walls lined with pews, where the daily Chapter meetings were held. In one corner was a wooden staircase, leading to the upper floor, which acted as the library and archives of the diocese. They climbed up to find a musty chamber half filled with high writing-desks, each with a tall stool.
    Thomas de Peyne made himself useful by opening two of the shuttered windows to let in some light along with the keen east wind. It allowed them to see that shelves around the walls were crammed with parchments and vellum rolls, with more on the desks and piled in heaps on the floor. There were some sloping shelves along one wall, with heavy leatherbound books securely chained to rings screwed into the wood.
    The Archdeacon clucked in concern. ‘This place needs attention,’ he murmured.
    Jordan de Brent sighed. ‘The place is too small, brother. It’s high time it was rebuilt and enlarged. Last year we had a great influx of old manuscripts from many of the parish churches, sent here for safekeeping. It was on these that Robert de Hane was working.’
    Roger de Limesi nodded agreement. ‘I helped him when I could, but it was a hopeless task without proper storage.’ He waved a hand around the untidy chamber. De Limesi was a thin, almost cadaveric man, with two yellow teeth that protruded from below each end of his upper lip, fangs that gave the unfortunate man an almost animal-like appearance.
    ‘Find a seat, if you can,’ invited John de Alencon, clearing a space for himself on one of the stools.
    When they were all settled in a ragged circle, with Thomas standing dutifully at his master’s shoulder, de Wolfe began his questions. In deference to his rank, he addressed himself first to the Archdeacon. ‘We need to find some reason for the death of this mild-mannered colleague of yours. Can you throw any light at all on this?’
    De Alencon threw back his cloak, although the unheated room was as cold as the Close outside. ‘Even a few hours’ reflection has failed to bring anything fresh to my mind. Let us ask someone nearer to him if he has any comments.’ He turned his nobly ascetic face to Jordan de Brent, who was a complete contrast to his fellow canon Roger de Limesi: he was plump and had a round moon face with a rim of sandy hair around a shiny bald head. He wore a permanent smile of vague beneficence and it was something of a surprise to hear his deep, booming voice when he spoke.
    ‘He was indeed a gentle soul, devoted to the study of his beloved Church.’ De Brent waved a fat hand around the library. ‘For over a year he spent much of every day, when he was not at his devotions, sorting and studying the old records here, from all over Devon and Cornwall.’
    De Wolfe shifted impatiently on his stool. ‘But why should such a man come to an evil death?’
    Jordan de Brent lifted his