Read Online Hugh Corbett 06 - Murder Wears a Cowl by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online Page A

King cannot pay his masons. The Exchequer and Treasurer now travel with the King, so the court has not been there for years. Wenlock the Abbot is ill and the community rather lax. Indeed, the only importance about Westminster is that the King has moved a great deal of his treasury to the crypt beneath the Chapter House.’
    Corbett looked up startled. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because of the building work at the Tower. Most of the rooms there are now unsafe. The crypt at Westminster Abbey, however, is probably the safest place in London.’
    ‘You are sure the treasury is safe?’
    ‘Yes, on the very day Father Benedict died I went down to see him but he was absent so I checked on the treasury. The seals of the door were unbroken so I knew it was safe. You see, there is only one entrance to the crypt, the sealed door. Moreover, even if someone got in, the narrow flight of stairs down to the crypt have been deliberately smashed and the rest of the building protected by the thickest walls I’ve ever seen.’
    ‘And Master Puddlicott?’
    ‘All I can say,’ Cade replied, ‘is that the bastard has been sighted in London, albeit the sighting is secondhand.’
    ‘He must be here for mischief!’
    Cade laughed drily. ‘Of course, but what?’
    Corbett nudged the now dozing Ranulf awake.
    ‘Look, Master Cade, you know the French envoy, de Craon, and his companion, de Nevers, are in London? They are ostensibly here bearing friendly messages from their master to our King, but there’s no real reason for their presence.’
    ‘Are you saying they could be connected with Puddlicott?’
    ‘It’s possible. Puddlicott has been seen in the company of Master William Nogaret, Philip IV’s Keeper of Secrets.’
    Cade went across and filled a goblet of wine for himself, to which he added a generous drop of water.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied. ‘We know de Craon is in London. He attended a civic reception and presented his letters of accreditation to the Mayor. Since then, we have kept a quiet watch on his house in Gracechurch Street but we are now bored with him. He has done nothing untoward, apparently, being more interested in our shipping along the Thames than anything else. And, as there’s no war with France, there’s no crime in him doing that.’
    Corbett rose and stretched. ‘So,’ he sighed. ‘Where shall we begin?’
    The under-sheriff spread his large hands. ‘As my master said, I am at your service.’
    ‘Then let’s follow Master Cicero, Et respice corpus ?’
    ‘I beg your pardon, Master Corbett!’
    ‘Let’s look at the corpse.’ Corbett picked up his own cloak. ‘May I borrow the list of names of the women killed?’
    Cade handed it over.
    ‘This last victim, is she already buried?’
    ‘No, she lies in the charnel house of St Lawrence Jewry.’ Cade drained his cup and strapped on his sword-belt. ‘If you wish to look at her, you must hurry. The good priest intends to bury her next to the others later this morning.’
    ‘What’s that?’ Ranulf stuttered. ‘You said, “next to the others”?’
    ‘Well,’ Cade replied. ‘The dead whores are always brought in a cart from a small outbuilding in the Guildhall. We pay the priests of St Lawrence Jewry to bury them – a shilling a time, if I remember correctly.’
    ‘And everyone,’ Ranulf remarked, ‘except Lady Somerville, has been buried there?’
    ‘Yes. And for a shilling, they don’t get much: a tattered canvas sheet, a shallow hole in the ground and remembrance at the morning Mass.
    ‘Doesn’t anyone ever claim the body?’
    ‘Of course not. Some of these poor girls are from Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, towns and villages as far west as Cornwall and as far north as Berwick-on-Tweed.’
    ‘And no one attends their funerals?’
    ‘No. We thought of that and kept a careful watch.’ Cade gave a shiver. ‘They are buried like dogs,’ he murmured. ‘Not even their regular customers come to bid a fond farewell.’
    Corbett finished his wine and