The Devil's Domain by Paul Doherty

it to Sir John.
    ‘I do not wish to be poisoned,’ he lisped. ‘Not like poor Serriem! You, sir, will taste it!’
    ‘Certainly!’ Sir John grabbed the goblet, drained it in one gulp and thrust it back.
    Anger spots glowed high in de Fontanel’s cheeks. Gaunt lowered his head to hide his snigger. Sir Maurice hastened to fill the goblet again.
    ‘My Lord de Fontanel,’ Gaunt intervened. ‘You are safe here.’
    ‘You gave the same assurances to poor Serriem and now he’s dead, poisoned.’
    ‘That is not our fault.’ Gaunt tapped the table and pointed at Athelstan and Sir John. ‘These are my two officers. They will investigate Serriem’s death. If it’s murder, they will capture the felon and he will hang. You have my word.’
    Gaunt emphasised the last four words and de Fontanel had no choice but to accept. He sipped from the refilled cup then, raising his head, studied the two officers.
    ‘We are not what we appear to be,’ the coroner said slowly. ‘Monsieur, if you look into your battle rolls for the name of Cranston you will find it among the victors of many an affray against your country. There is a phrase: “A cowl does not make a monk and judge not a book by its cover”.’ His face creased into a smile. ‘I beg you to do the same.’
    ‘My lord,’ Athelstan intervened. ‘Do you ever visit Hawkmere Manor?’
    The French envoy looked askance.
    ‘You want us to find the truth,’ Athelstan continued. ‘That means, Monsieur, we must question everyone.’
    ‘I go there,’ de Fontanel snapped.
    ‘And do you bring any food or drink?’
    ‘I am not allowed to. Only a prayer book, some rosary beads.’ De Fontanel put his cup down. ‘My Lord Gaunt, you know my master’s thoughts in this matter.’ He tapped the Regent on the shoulder. ‘We hold you personally responsible for the safe custody of our prisoners. So, let your officers investigate!’
    He walked towards the door but paused until Sir Maurice hurried to open it for him. Gaunt waited till he had gone, his face mottled with fury.
    ‘Now there goes a pretty peacock,’ he said. ‘I’d love to take his head in battle so he doesn’t tap my shoulder again. Ah well.’ He sighed. ‘My clerk will have the commission ready for you. I would be grateful if you would go to Hawkmere Manor immediately. Maltravers will accompany you there.’
    ‘You’ve had the place searched?’
    ‘From cellar to garret,’ Sir Maurice intervened. ‘Nothing was found.’
    ‘Could Limbright be poisoning his visitors out of spite?’
    ‘Limbright has not got the imagination!’ Gaunt scoffed. ‘While his daughter is simple.’
    ‘And there are no poisons in the manor?’ Athelstan persisted.
    ‘None whatsoever. Weapons are strictly controlled, as are the prisoners. They cannot leave its grounds, visitors are searched. De Fontanel can only visit them once a week.’
    Athelstan made to leave. He could see that Sir John was beginning to feel uncomfortable and was genuinely concerned lest the coroner doze off again.
    ‘One moment.’ Gaunt got to his feet and went and put his hand on Sir Maurice’s shoulder. ‘Sir Jack, Brother Athelstan, I think you know Sir Maurice Maltravers: a warrior and my most loyal retainer.’
    Athelstan narrowed his eyes. Now he studied him, the young knight looked white and peakish, his eyes red-rimmed as if he had been crying or slept poorly.
    ‘Sir Maurice,’ Gaunt continued, ‘is a man deeply in love. He is much smitten by the Lady Angelica Parr.’
    ‘Oh no!’ Sir John groaned. ‘Not the daughter of Sir Thomas? Parr is tight-fisted and avaricious. We attended the Inns of Court together years ago. He is so mean there are cobwebs in his purse. Now he controls everything, ships, wool and wine. They even say half the Commons, not to mention the court, are deeply in debt to him.’
    ‘Sir John, as usual, you are succinct and truthful,’ Gaunt replied. ‘I am deeply indebted to Sir Thomas and he has great aspirations