The Anger of God

generous swig from his wineskin. ‘The following evening, the assassin strikes again.’
    ‘Impossible!’ Goodman shouted. ‘Don’t you remember, Sir John, Lord Clifford was absent from the banquet?’
    Cranston pushed the wine stopper back in firmly.
    ‘Yes, he did say he had business elsewhere but not before he left the poisoned sweetmeat beneath Fitzroy’s plate.’
    ‘Of course!’ Gaunt got to his feet and pointed to his pale-faced lieutenant. ‘Adam, you were responsible for deciding who sat where, then you excused yourself, claiming pressing business in the city.’ Gaunt’s face became mottled with anger. ‘You were most insistent. My Lord Coroner is correct: not even I knew where everyone would sit. That was left to you and you told each of the guests.’
    The Mayor suddenly sprang to his feet.
    ‘ Cranston ,’ he yelled, ‘you’re a fool!’
    ‘Sir Christopher, ‘ Athelstan intervened softly, ‘explain yourself.’
    The Mayor advanced into the centre of the room, his fat face wreathed in a smug smile. ‘Can’t you see, My Lord?’ he addressed Gaunt. ‘Mountjoy was murdered. Fitzroy was murdered. Sturmey was murdered. But let’s not forget the vicious attack on my Lord Clifford!’
    ‘Oh, no,’ Athelstan replied. ‘Let’s not forget that. Bruises and cuts! Nothing very serious. I am sure Lord Adam knows this.’
    Goodman stepped back, gnawing his lip as he realized the stupidity of his outburst.
    ‘You mean?’ he began.
    ‘I mean,’ Athelstan replied quietly, ‘that when Lord Adam is taken into custody and examined, the bruises and so-called wounds will be found to be merely superficial.’
    Goodman hurried back to his seat.
    ‘What a marvellous ploy,’ Athelstan continued. ‘But think of it. If Ira Dei had meant to kill Clifford, he would have done so.’
    ‘The ambush was arranged!’ the Coroner roared at Goodman. ‘A mere distraction!’ He jabbed his finger at Clifford. ‘You know that, My Lord. If you disagree, remove your shirt and let’s see those terrible wounds.’
    Clifford glared back.
    ‘And My Lord of Gaunt is right,’ the Coroner continued. ‘You knew where each of us would sit that night!’
    ‘I was elsewhere,’ Clifford muttered.
    ‘You’re a liar!’ Cranston barked.
    Clifford shook his head but his eyes betrayed him.
    ‘A clever ploy,’ Cranston continued. ‘So when Fitzroy died, you were elsewhere. But how, my Lord Clifford, could you go wrong? If Fitzroy took another seat, someone else may have eaten the sweetmeat. Don’t you see?’ Cranston grinned wickedly at the Guildmasters. ‘It wasn’t necessary for Mountjoy and Fitzroy to die, so long as some of you did, murdered in mysterious circumstances, causing enough chaos and confusion to destroy any schemes devised by His Grace the Regent.’
    ‘And the gold? And Sturmey’s death?’ Nicholas Hussey spoke up as the Regent leaned forward in his chair and glared at the traitor at the other end of the room.
    ‘Oh, the gold,’ Cranston murmured. ‘Of course, that really set the seal on matters, didn’t it? You see, unfortunately, My Lord Mayor and the late Sheriff chose Peter Sturmey, a famous locksmith, to fashion a new chest which was to be secured by six locks. However, what you, Sir Christopher, had either forgotten or not realized was that our Master Sturmey had a secret life. He was a lover of young boys. Indeed, fifteen years ago he, like many great ones in this city, was involved in a scandal. Nothing was proved against Sturmey but I am sure he became more secretive, cautious in his secret passions.’ Cranston stopped speaking and looked at the King’s tutor. ‘Sir Nicholas, I believe you were a scholar at St Paul ’s school at the time?’
    Hussey nodded, his eyes hooded, the bottom part of his face hidden behind his hands.
    ‘I remember the scandal,’ he murmured, ‘but I knew nothing of it. I was a mere boy at the time.’
    ‘Yes,’ Sir John murmured, ‘you were only a boy, as were you, My Lord Clifford, a page in a powerful London household — Sir Raymond Bragley’s, then Sheriff of the city. Bragley, as My Lord Mayor remembers, was investigating the scandal and you, My Lord Clifford, must have been well aware of the important messages you carried hither and thither round the city. I suspect you knew about Sturmey’s secret vices and that he continued them. Who knows? He may even have made advances to you, and so you blackmailed him: either he made you