Murder most holy

stubby finger pointed to where seven or eight pages had been hacked from the book.
    ‘That’s recent!’ the coroner announced. ‘And it was done in a hurry.’
    Athelstan studied the tom shreds. He noticed that the edge of the page still held in the binding was rather dull and faded but, where the cut had been made, the parchment was pure and white. Athelstan picked up the book, ignoring Cranston ’s protests and questions. He took it over to his own bed and sat cradling it in his lap. The volume which had held the tom pages was an old one, containing the minor works of certain writers. He finished leafing through it, closed it, and stared at the bemused expression on Cranston ’s face.
    ‘Whatever we were looking for,’ Athelstan muttered, ‘our assassin has already found.’
    ‘When?’ Cranston snapped. ‘The library has been watched over the last few days!’
    ‘I don’t know. Perhaps when he killed Callixtus. He may have watched the old librarian stretch out for a certain book before pushing him. Anyway,’ Athelstan continued wearily, ‘I suspect the pages from this book are at the bottom of some sewer or burnt to a feathery ash.’
    He blew out his lips and sighed. ‘Just let’s pray, Sir John, for two things. First, that the messenger we have sent to Oxford is successful and, if he is, that what he brings back will resolve this matter once and for all.’ He lay back on the bed. ‘I’ll sleep for a while, Sir John. Please ask Brother Norbert to take these back to the library. We can do no more for the time being. Let’s rest. Tomorrow night we must go to the Palace of Savoy .’
    When he received no reply from the coroner Athelstan struggled up on his elbow and found Sir John already asleep, sitting like a big baby on the edge of the bed, his head twitching, lips smacking. Athelstan got up, made the coroner as comfortable as possible and, going back to his own bed, fell asleep.

CHAPTER 13

    Brother Norbert roused them late in the afternoon asking if everything was all right. Athelstan, sleepy-eyed, mumbled his thanks and told Norbert the books could be returned to the library.
    ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
    Athelstan rubbed his eyes and yawned. ‘Yes and no, Brother.' He smiled at Norbert’s puzzled expression. ‘All I can say is we have to wait for a while, Sir John and I. ’ He looked at the coroner who sat on the edge of his bed, yawning like a cat. ‘My Lord Coroner and I now have other business to attend to.’
    Cranston and he then washed themselves and helped Brother Norbert and other lay brothers take the rest of the volumes back to the library. Afterwards they both went for a walk in the orchard. They closed their minds to what they had seen during their last visit and enjoyed the sweet, fragrant smells of the ripening fruit.
    ‘We can proceed no further in the business here,’ Cranston observed, ‘until our messenger returns from Oxford . I have left instructions with Lady Maude that she is to send him to wherever we are.’ He stopped and looked squarely at Athelstan, his face drained of its usual bombast and cheeky arrogance. ‘Brother, tomorrow, at seven in the evening, I am to return to my Lord of Gaunt’s hall with the solution to the Puzzle set by the Italian.’ He grasped Athelstan by the shoulder. ‘I trust you, Brother. I think you have a solution. I know you have a solution. Please trust me with it.’ Cranston held up one huge, podgy hand. ‘I swear on the lives of my poppets that I shall keep a closed mouth and not divulge what you tell me to anyone.’
    ‘You are certain, Sir John?’
    ‘As certain as I am that my belly is both big and empty.’
    ‘Then, My Lord Coroner, perhaps I should test my hypothesis.’
    After supper that evening Athelstan took Cranston back to their bedchamber.
    ‘Now, Sir John, let us begin again. We have a chamber containing no secret passageways or trap doors, yet four murders are committed there: of a young man, a chaplain, and two soldiers. None of the victims ate or drank anything and it is part of the mystery that no one entered that room so no foul play by a third party is suspected.’ Athelstan shrugged. ‘Now, in logic we are taught to search for the common denominator. One factor common to all things. So, this is my solution.’ He undid his saddle bags and laid out certain items on his bed. Cranston watched intently as Athelstan, using their bedchamber as the murder room, played out the manner