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Cranston retorted, ‘and so the duke has lost a powerful friend.’
    ‘Exactly!’
    Athelstan saw the obsidian eyes of the Chief Justice glare at the coroner and intervened before further damage was done. Sir John was a lawyer from the Middle Temple and appointed as coroner by the late king, an appointment confirmed by the Commons and the powerful Guildhall merchants, yet even he could go too far.
    ‘My Lord of Gaunt must grieve for Springall’s death?’ Athelstan asked.
    ‘He does.’
    Fortescue rose and went to a small table in the corner where stood a number of cups. He filled them to the brim and brought them back. Athelstan refused his, it was too early in the morning for such drink, but Cranston did justice to both of them, draining one goblet then the other down his cavernous throat in a long, gulping sound. After he had finished, Cranston slammed the cups on the table in front of him, folded his great thick arms and looked steadily back at the Chief Justice.
    ‘Sir Thomas Springall,’ Fortescue continued, ‘was a good friend of the duke’s. A close associate. Last night he held a banquet in his house in the Strand. I was there, together with his wife, his brother Sir Richard, and other colleagues. I left after sunset when the bells of St Mary Le Bow were ringing the curfew. A pleasant evening – the conversation, like the food, most appetising and titillating. From what Sir Richard Springall has told me, Sir Thomas retired just before midnight. Although married, he slept in his own bed chamber. He bade his wife, brother and associates good night and went upstairs to his chamber where, as always, he locked and bolted the door. Now Sir Thomas was a fleshly man. Like you, Sir John, he liked a good glass of claret. Every night he ordered his servant, Brampton, to leave one such cup on the table beside his bed. This morning, Springall’s chaplain, Father Crispin, went to rouse him and received no answer. Others were called and, to cut a long story short, the door was forced. Sir Thomas Springall was found lying dead in his bed, the cup beside him half empty. The local physician was summoned. He examined the corpse as well as the contents of the wine cup and pronounced Sir Thomas had been poisoned. A search was immediately made.’ Fortescue paused and licked his thin lips. ‘Brampton’s chamber was deserted but, when his chest was rifled, they found phials of poison hidden beneath garments at the bottom. Then an hour ago Brampton was found hanging in a garret of the house.’ Fortescue heaved a sigh. ‘It would appear that Brampton and Sir Thomas had quarrelled during the day and this reached a climax early in the afternoon. Brampton kept to himself in a sulk. He must have purchased the poison or had it ready, took the cup to his master’s room, put the poison in and left. However, like Judas, he suffered remorse. He went up to the garret of the house and, like Judas, hanged himself there.’
    ‘Strange,’ Cranston mused, and pursed his lips.
    ‘What is, Sir John?’
    ‘We have a steward who has quarrelled with his master and stormed out. Nevertheless he remembers his duty and takes up a goblet of wine.’
    ‘If the wine had not been poisoned,’ Fortescue replied sharply, ‘it would have been a kindness. But, Sir John, a man who offers a poisoned chalice is no friend.’
    ‘So what is the mystery?’
    Fortescue smiled thinly.
    ‘Ah, that is for you to discover. My Lord Gaunt thinks there is one. Remember, Springall lent the crown monies. There may be reason to see the merchant’s death as a hindrance to the regent.’ Fortescue shrugged. ‘His Grace has not opened his secret thoughts to me but he believes there is a threat to his rule here.’
    The Chief Justice picked up a scroll tied with scarlet ribbon and handed it over to Cranston. Athelstan glimpsed the purple seals of the regent.
    ‘Your commission,’ Fortescue said drily, ‘warrants, and permission for you to pursue this matter.’
    The