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The House of Crows

The House of Crows

Titel: The House of Crows Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Paul C. Doherty
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still on duty?’ Cranston asked.
    ‘Oh yes. Even at night. No one can enter or leave the cloisters without showing the special seal each of the representatives carries.’
    ‘And who went into the cloisters last night?’ Cranston persisted. ‘Come on, man, you know what we are after.’ Coverdale, his face pale, shook his head. ‘I can’t honestly answer that, Sir John. Representatives are constantly going in and out. As you know, the evening can be cold and many are cowled or hooded. But I can state two things. First, no one entered or left those cloisters, or the area around the chapterhouse, without showing the special pass.’
    ‘And the vestibule?’ Athelstan asked. ‘Are those double doors still guarded?’
    ‘At night, not as strictly as during the day when the Commons sit, but there are guards in the gallery leading to it.’
    ‘And did anyone remember Sir Francis going there?’
    ‘One of my men, vaguely; others followed but it was dark. As I said, members are cowled and hooded, arrogant and peremptory. They show their seal, pull back cloaks to show they carry no swords, and doors are opened.’
    ‘You were going to tell us two things?’ Cranston asked. ‘Ah well.’ Coverdale waved at Harnett’s decapitated corpse. ‘Sir John, you have seen executions or beheadings after battle. To take a man’s head off, you need either a broadsword or a two-headed axe, yet anyone who enters the abbey precincts must show he carries no such weapon. Only dress-daggers are permitted.’
    Athelstan covered the decapitated body with the edges of the dark tarpaulin. ‘Is it possible,’ he asked, ‘that someone could steal into the abbey precincts?’
    ‘I asked Father Abbot that,’ Coverdale replied. ‘There are no secret passageways or galleries. You must remember, Brother Athelstan, the Pyx chamber lies just before the chapter-house. Harnett, and the person who killed him, had to go — and his assassin return — through at least three lines of my guards.’ He smiled thinly and shrugged. ‘What more can I say? Knights from this shire or that were constantly going in and out. Some visited the shrine of St Faith, others the abbey itself. A few came back to collect possessions. You cannot blame my soldiers,’ he continued defensively. ‘They have their orders. Ask for the seal, ensure the person is carrying no weapons, and let them on their way.’ Coverdale wiped his hand on the back of his mouth. ‘There are so many representatives, and the abbey has a number of entrances.’
    ‘And they must have one of these seals?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Yes,’ Coverdale replied, ‘or a special pass signed by one of the members. However, my men have strict orders to stop such a person and send for me.’ He shrugged. ‘But, since the beginning of this Parliament, no such letter has been offered, certainly not last night.’
    ‘What happens if the killer was a monk?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘Impossible,’ Coverdale scoffed. ‘The brothers are allowed to use the cloisters, but the vestibule and the chapter-house itself are strictly out of bounds. Moreover, my soldiers would remember a monk trying to enter and leave.’
    ‘Which leaves us with one possibility.’ Athelstan, rubbing the edge of his nose, took a step nearer to the captain of the guard. ‘I don’t want to give offence, sir, but what if Sir Francis Harnett’s killer was a soldier?’
    Coverdale’s face reddened.
    ‘I say this,’ Athelstan continued remorselessly, ‘merely because a soldier is armed with sword and axe. He would also have every right to enter the vestibule leading to the chapterhouse.’
    ‘You mean someone like myself?’
    ‘I did not say that, Sir Miles. I was only making an observation.’
    Cranston, sitting on an overturned bucket, caught the drift of Athelstan’s meaning, as did Banyard. The landlord stepped back, as if he wished to put himself beyond reach of Coverdale’s anger. Sir Miles, however, despite the red blotches high in his cheeks, remained calm.
    ‘You should continue your questions, Friar,’ he snapped. ‘Sir Francis Harnett’s companions wait for us in the tavern. They will tell you that Sir Francis left them against my orders — and their advice — shortly before Vespers.’
    ‘And, of course, you are going to tell us where you were?’
    ‘Yes, Friar, I was at the Savoy Palace with others of the regent’s commanders, preparing for the royal procession to Westminster this Saturday morning.

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