‘This was no accident, woman. The canon was murdered,’ he snapped. The brothel-keeper’s powdered face cracked in an expression of outraged disbelief.
‘Well, he wasn’t murdered here. This is a respectable house!’ she added illogically, considering the nature of her business.
She sat down on a chair, but did not invite her unwelcome visitors to join her. The girl from the front door stood protectively behind her and now several other young women, all pretty and dressed in coloured silk gowns, appeared inquisitively at the doorway from the passage. De Wolfe, who in his younger days had more than a nodding acquaintance with whorehouses, recognised that this was a superior type of establishment with prices well above the stews that catered for the lower classes.
‘You were aware who the dead man was?’ began John, harshly.
‘Father Simon, some chaplain in the king’s service,’ replied the madam defensively. ‘We get a number of men of the cloth in here. Supposed to be celibate, I know, but that’s their business, not ours.’
‘He was a cathedral canon and an official of the Exchequer,’ snapped the coroner. ‘An important royal officer and I want to know who killed him!’
Margery, now pallid under her make-up, began protesting that he had died of bad food and that his death was nothing to do with her, but John cut across her excuses.
‘Did he say where he had been before he came to relieve himself here?’ he demanded.
For answer, the woman beckoned to one of the girls in the doorway. ‘Lucy, you attended to the priest. Come here and tell the coroner what you know.’
Reluctantly, Lucy sidled into the room and stood before John, her eyes downcast. He thought she was too fresh and attractive to be used by any man who had four pence, though he also knew that many girls eventually found a husband amongst their clients.
‘Tell me exactly what happened, Lucy,’ asked de Wolfe in a more kindly tone. ‘If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.’
‘He was a nice, kind man,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I’m sorry he’s dead — but I know nothing about it. I tried to help him when he was so sick.’
‘He was well enough when he arrived,’ mumbled Margery, but Lucy shook her head. ‘He was not his normal self even then. I noticed his brow was sweating, but thought he was excited at what was to come. Then we went up to one of the rooms upstairs and as he began taking off his clothing, he started to groan and clutch his stomach.’
‘Did he say anything about where he had been?’ asked de Wolfe, but Lucy wanted to tell her story at her own pace.
‘He slumped down on the pallet and pulled off his hose, then apologised for not feeling well. He said it must have been something he had eaten, though he had dined with a friend at a good inn so it was surprising that there should be anything amiss with the food.’
The coroner seized upon this. ‘Did he say who the friend was? Or which inn they had visited?’
To his chagrin, the girl shook her head. ‘It was at that very moment that he started to vomit. From then on, his speech made no sense, he was too occupied in throwing up and groaning. I tried to comfort him and clean him up as best I could, but soon had to call the mistress, as he became so distressed.’
In spite of more questioning of Lucy, her mistress and the other whores, de Wolfe failed to extract any other useful information. It seemed clear that following a good meal at a decent hostelry in the company of a friend, Simon Basset had arrived at his favourite brothel for his regular fornication. He was unwell on arrival and rapidly deteriorated, showing all the symptoms of foxglove poisoning, according to Brother Philip. Death had occurred without him becoming rational enough to explain what had happened and once again the coroner was stuck with a mystery.
They left for the ride back to Westminster with an extra horse led on a head-rope behind Gwyn’s mare, for the canon’s mount had still been tethered in the yard behind the whorehouse. The crafty Margery had failed to mention it, no doubt hoping to sell the beast, until Gwyn had queried how Basset had arrived in Stinking Lane. Reluctantly, she admitted that the horse was still there and John hurried to examine it in case the saddlebag contained some further clue — for a moment he even wondered if some of the lost treasure might be there. In the event, there was nothing, but they decided to return the valuable nag to the house in King Street, when John called to give them the sad news.
During the ride back, Thomas asked what he should do about recording the investigation on his rolls and whether there was to be an inquest.
‘This is a case well out of the ordinary,’ mused John. ‘I’ll do nothing until I confer with Hubert Walter. With someone who was both a canon and a senior Treasury official, found poisoned in a brothel, I have to tread carefully, especially as he may well be involved in the theft of the king’s treasure from the Tower.’
The more he thought about it, the more delicate the situation appeared. Though he himself was presently in good grace with the Justiciar and even the king, neither were men to be trifled with or offended — and there were many other powerful men, especially on the Curia, who would be happy to use de Wolfe as a scapegoat if some great scandal erupted.
Apart from that, John had no appetite for exposing the sexual inclinations of a pleasant priest through a public inquest. Though he was a stickler for applying the king’s will, there were issues such as the relative immunity of those in holy orders from the secular law, which gave them ‘benefit of clergy’. Especially since old King Henry’s conscience-stricken surrender to Canterbury over this issue, following the murder of Thomas Becket, one had to tread softly where priests were concerned and John was not going to put his head in a noose by doing the wrong thing.
His silent cogitations lasted for most of the journey and both Thomas and Gwyn had learned not to disturb their master when he was in this contemplative mood. At the house in King Street, one of the grooms saw them coming and recognised the canon’s horse being led home riderless and drew the correct conclusions. He rushed into the house and by the time de Wolfe dismounted, Martin the steward and Chaplain Gilbert had come out to meet him, their faces full of anguished foreboding.
The coroner solemnly confirmed their fears, and taking the chaplain aside explained the circumstances of the canon’s death. ‘It is up to you how much you tell the rest of the household, but I would advise you holding back some of the details, at least until I have discussed it with the archbishop.’
Gilbert was a sensible man and through his grief — for it seemed that Simon had been a popular and caring master — he promised to be discreet about revealing the whole truth. He also promised to set in motion the process of retrieving the corpse from St Bartholomew’s and arranging a funeral, dependent on the coroner’s decision about an inquest. He would also send a messenger to Lichfield to inform the cathedral and any surviving family of the death.
Promising to keep him informed, de Wolfe left the house to the stunned residents, who were no doubt wondering when they would be thrown out into the street following the collapse of their comfortable little world.
CHAPTER TEN
In the late afternoon, de Wolfe made enquiries at the Justiciar’s chambers and was told that Hubert Walter was expected back that evening and would be available for audience next morning.
John had to make do with informing the most senior official he could find in the Exchequer building and he also told the Keeper of the Palace that Simon Basset was dead. He trimmed the truth by saying that the canon had been taken ill in the city and had died at St Bartholomew’s Hospital, where the body was still lying.
Though the Keeper did not seem particularly interested, being swamped with work in anticipation of Queen Eleanor’s visit, the news caused some consternation in the Exchequer. Apart from personal sadness at his death, Simon Basset was an important functionary and his loss appeared to cause problems in their administrative routines. John also had the impression that Simon’s connection with the lost treasure made some of the other officials uneasy.