Murder most holy

their silver trumpets and issued three long blasts which stilled the clamour in the hall. All eyes turned towards Gaunt.
    ‘Your Grace…’
    Gaunt nodded imperceptibly at his stony-faced nephew.
    ‘...My Lord of Cremona, and you, my friends and guests, this day we have been honoured at our humble feast with the presence of one of Italy's great rulers — Signor Gian Galeazzo, Lord of Cremona and Duke of the surrounding territories.’
    Gaunt paused to allow a ripple of applause which he stilled with one beringed hand.
    ‘But my Lord of Cremona has a problem which he wishes to share with us. A great mystery which no one can solve. And that is why I have asked for the august presence of our noble Coroner of the City, Sir John Cranston.’
    Gaunt paused and Cranston gazed quickly down the hall. He saw the suppressed smiles, the grins hidden behind raised hands, and sensed the waiting trap. He was no friend of Gaunt’s, tolerated by him but not liked, for he had no time to emulate the Regent’s court dandies and fops who lavished the nation’s wealth on their own soft, white bodies. Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded at Gaunt’s words, wary of what was to come.
    ‘Sir John Cranston,’ Gaunt continued, ‘is well known in the city and in the courts of law for his deductive reasoning, his subtle questioning, his ruthless tracking down of criminals, and his skill in solving intriguing mysteries. My Lord of Cremona has such a mystery which has defied the best minds and most probing intellects of Europe ’s courts.’ Gaunt paused and Cranston felt how still the hall had become. ‘My Lord of Cremona,’ Gaunt continued, ‘has wagered one thousand gold crowns that no one can resolve this mystery. My Lord Coroner,’ Gaunt half-turned to Cranston , ‘will you accept the wager?’
    Cranston stared speechlessly. One thousand gold crowns was a fortune! If he accepted the wager and lost, it would impoverish him. If he refused the wager, he would be mocked as a coward. Moreover, if the Lord of Cremona’s subtle mystery was so intriguing, there was very little chance of his winning such a fortune. Cranston smiled whilst his mind raced through the possibilities. He wished the Lady Maude was here. Above all, he wanted Athelstan: the monk would have seen some graceful way out. Now Cranston had no choice. What could he do — publicly retract on his earlier boast?
    ‘My Lord Cranston,’ Gaunt repeated, ‘will you accept?’
    Cranston slurped from the wine cup. ‘Of course,’ he replied boldly, to a wave of cheering, good-natured catcalls and shouts of encouragement. The coroner lumbered to his feet, half-cursing the rich wine racing through his blood and dulling his brain. After all, he was Cranston . Why should he lose face before these nincompoops, these women in men’s clothes? He was Sir John Cranston, Coroner of the City of London , husband to the Lady Maude, father of Francis and Stephen. He had held castles against the French and single-handedly charged against many a foe.
    ‘No mystery,’ he bellowed, ‘is beyond my wits! If a problem exists,’ he added, quoting his help-meet Athelstan, ‘then it is logical that a solution must also exist.’
    ‘Nobody denies that!’ Gaunt slapped him on the shoulder, pushing him gently back in his chair. The coroner saw the Regent’s sly smile, glimpsed the young king’s pitying stare and the flash of triumph in Cremona ’s glittering eyes.
    ‘The solution is known?’ Cranston asked.
    ‘Of course!’ Cremona replied. ‘As is customary, I shall choose one person — such as His Grace the King. If your theory is incorrect, he will, after solemnly swearing to silence, be shown part of the solution.’ Cremona laughed. ‘Though no person has yet offered a solution, not even an incorrect one.’ Gaunt turned to the Italian nobleman. ‘My Lord,’ he said silkily, ‘you have issued the challenge and Sir John has picked up the gauntlet. We wait with bated breath for your mystery.’ Galeazzo, Lord of Cremona, pulled back his silken sleeves and stood up, his robes billowing about him, exuding a faint delicious fragrance unknown in England .
    ‘Your Grace the King, My Lord of Lancaster, and you other noble English lords and barons — the lavish hospitality of my host has deeply impressed us and will never be forgotten.’
    Galeazzo leaned on the table, threw one significant look at Cranston , then turned back to address the hall. His speech was perfect though his