Field of Blood

'Mistress Brokestreet never had the pleasure of meeting me,' came the sardonic reply.

'No, I'm sure she didn't. The great lawyer would make sure of that. I suppose in the condemned cell at Newgate, dressed like a friar with the cowl pulled over, you could have been anyone.'

'You went there dressed like that?' Sir John asked abruptly.

'Sir Jack, do you really expect me to answer that?'

'Yes, he did,' Athelstan said. 'You've seen the condemned cell at Newgate, my lord coroner, black as pitch. Our good lawyer would be disguised, the same is true of his voice. Not that Alice Brokestreet would care. All she could see was the hangman's noose waiting for her and, abruptly, salvation is at hand. Our good lawyer tells her what to do: she will accuse Mistress Vestler, say no more than that and she will be a free woman. I doubt if Brokestreet cared if her visitor was Satan from hell.' Athelstan sighed.

'So the game began. Mistress Vestler was accused and sentenced to the gallows.'

'But the Crown would then seize the Paradise Tree?' Hengan spoke softly like a schoolmaster cor­recting a pupil.

'Oh come, Master Hengan: you are Mistress Vestler's executor with the right to poke and pry into her affairs; in reality, search around, looking for the treasure. Heaven knows even, when the time was right, buy the Paradise Tree, like Bartholomew Menster wanted to. He probably raised the matter with you, didn't he? You must have learned about that and become very alarmed.'

'As a lawyer,' Hengan protested, 'I maintain the evidence still points to Mistress Vestler.'

'All the evidence,' Athelstan pointed out, 'came from her own household books, and that made me curious. As Mistress Vestler's lawyer and good friend, why didn't you seize them, hide or burn them? It might be illegal, but something you'd expect a good friend to do in such circumstances. As it was, Master Whittock seized them and was able to track down the tree-cutter and the chapman, not to mention Margot Haden's sister.'

Hengan's gaze had shifted back to the cart. He was watching it carefully, like a cat would a mousehole.

'Brokestreet was another victim.' Sir John spoke up. 'You sent the poisoned wine to her so she'd cause no further problems. In that tangled brain of yours you probably saw it as some reparation for Mistress Vestler's pains.'

'This is all well and good.' Hengan placed his chancery bag beside him, dabbing his face with the long cuff of his gown. 'But you are missing one important factor: Mistress Vestler buried the corpses.'

'You guessed that,' Athelstan interrupted. 'It's a question of logic as well as self-defence. I am sure you later walked out into Black Meadow to carefully study the ground. Who knows, one dark night you may even have taken mattock and hoe and dug it yourself, just to make sure?'

'Yes, yes,' Hengan replied. 'But why didn't she accuse me? Why didn't she just tell the truth on oath?'

Athelstan shook his head. 'Ever the lawyer, Master Hengan! What proof did she have? That she went out and found two corpses on a summer evening, so she buried them then hurried back to her tavern to burn Margot Haden's possessions? Oh, I am sure she can explain it, but now is neither the time nor the place. As for further proof …'

Athelstan glanced back towards the lych gate where he thought he saw a flash of colour, but all was quiet.

'You told me that Brokestreet killed a man with a firkin opener? The only other person who knew that was the vicar of hell. How did you know? Unless you made a very careful scrutiny of Mistress Brokestreet before you approached her? Secondly, after the trial, you quoted accurately, word for word, the quotation from the chronicle we found in the Tower. Yet you only saw it for a few seconds. Finally, I was fasci­nated by Mistress Vestler's actions on the morning following Bartholomew's and Margot's disappear­ance. She came down to Black Meadow and asked the Four Gospels a very specific question. Had they, the previous day, seen anyone they knew in the meadow? Now, those rogues.' He saw the change of expression on Hengan's face. 'Yes, they are rogues, were kept well away from the Paradise Tree. The only people they knew were Bartholomew, Margot, you and herself. We know where Kathryn Vestler was. We also know the fate of Bartholomew and Margot. In an oblique way Mistress Vestler was asking about you.'

'God knows,' Sir John said as he moved his war belt to sit more comfortably, 'why Mistress Vestler didn't really speak the truth but I have my own suspicions.' He thrust his face closer. 'I believe she loved you, lawyer, but you wouldn't understand that, would you? "What does it profit a man if," ' he quoted from the gospels, ' "he gains the whole world but loses his soul?" You lost your soul for that gold, you were quite prepared to kill because of it.'

Hengan pulled a wry face. 'I have heard the evi­dence. It's not as conclusive as a court would want.'

'Oh, we haven't begun yet,' Athelstan remarked. 'Not really. Sir John here will take his bailiffs and search your house. We'll find manuscripts showing your extraordinary interest in Gundulf's treasure. We may find other documents. Then we can des­patch royal couriers to Canterbury. Just where were you on each particular evening and day? Did you leave for the shrine on the twenty-third? If so, at which tavern did you stop? We will reach the conclusion that people saw you there but they can't remember you arriving in Canterbury for one or two days after you claim. Moreover, does your house contain poisons? Alice Brokestreet was poisoned. Perhaps the memory of the gaolers at Newgate can be pricked? Whatever.' Athelstan emphasised the points on his fingers. 'Mistress Vestler will not hang. You will never have the gold and you must face the most cruel interrogation.'

Hengan looked towards the lych gate where Master Flaxwith stood gesturing with his hand; around the bushes came other figures including Whittock, behind him a group of royal archers wearing the blue, red and gold livery. Hengan opened his chancery bag and took out a small arbalest. Sir John started forward but Hengan sprang to his feet.

'Brother Athelstan! Sir John!' the serjeant-at-law called out. 'Is all well? I understand you have the treasure?'

'What are you going to do?' Athelstan asked quietly.

'Oh, I had a madcap idea,' Hengan said smiling, 'that I would force Sir Jack to take the barrow down to the Thames and I'd escape with the gold. But this is life, not some troubadour song.'

'What are you going to do?' Athelstan repeated.

Hengan took a bolt from the large wallet he carried on his belt and slipped it into the groove on the arbalest.

'I confess all, Brother. To a certain extent I am sorry. Sorry for myself, for Kathryn, for all this sordid mess. I don't want to hang. I don't want to dance in the air. This is much quicker.'

And, before Athelstan could stop him, Hengan ran towards Whittock. Confusion and chaos broke out. At first Whittock didn't understand what was hap­pening until Hengan stopped and loosed the quarrel.

The crossbow bolt went awry, lost in the long grass. Hengan fumbled for another. Whittock shouted an order. Two of the bowmen hurried through the lych gate, bows bent, arrows pulled back. Hengan began to run, lifting the arbalest, a stupid, futile gesture. The two longbows twanged. One arrow caught Hengan full in the neck, the other in the chest. He flung his arms up against the sky and crashed to the ground where he rolled on his side, legs moving, then lay still. The two archers ran across and turned the corpse over.

'Dead, sir!' one of them called out.

Whittock hardly spared the fallen man a glance. He strode across the meadow and, without a by-your-leave, pulled back the canvas sheet and stared open-mouthed at the gold.

'Gundulf's treasure at last!' he breathed. 'Did you find it, Sir John?'

'I would like to say I did, Master Whittock, but the truth is that Brother Athelstan found it.'

'How did you know?' the friar asked.

The serjeant-at-law's harsh features broke into a

'I am the Crown's officer. I have a right to know. I also paid the servants and scullions at the Paradise Tree good silver to keep me informed of everything that happened there. I was at the Guildhall when the news arrived so I went to the Tower, collected these merry lads and came here.'

'You do not seem concerned about Master Hengan?' Athelstan asked.

'I stood and watched for a while. It was apparent, how can I put it, that events had rapidly changed.'

'Did you have any suspicions?'

Whittock clicked his tongue. 'I would like to say yes.' He grinned. 'No lawyer wants to be wrong. How can I put it, Brother? I did sense something amiss and wondered if Mistress Vestler had an accomplice. The only thing I found truly strange was that Hengan never hid those household accounts which told me so much. He was responsible, wasn't he?'

Sir John nodded.

'The Crown will need a full report, Sir Jack.' Whittock snapped his fingers and called the archers over.

'Have the corpse taken to the death house in the Tower! This,' he pointed to the barrow, 'will also be taken there and guarded until His Grace the Regent inspects it.'

'It's treasure trove,' Sir John said quietly. 'And, according to the law, a portion of it should be given to the person on whose land it was found and to the finder.'

Whittock scratched a cheek and, bending down, picked up Hengan's chancery bag.

'Oh, don't worry, Sir John, in the end justice will be done. I will take care of our dead lawyer and the Crown's gold. And you, sir, have my permission to go to Newgate. Within the hour a letter of release will be despatched. All charges against Mistress Vestler, including that of smuggling, will be with­drawn. A good day's work, Sir John.' He bowed. 'Brother Athelstan, I bid you adieu.'

Later that day, just as the bells of St Mary-le-Bow began to toll over the great marketplaces of London,

Sir John and Athelstan escorted a weeping, pale-faced Kathryn Vestler into the dark coolness of the Lamb of God tavern. Sir John had taken her out of the condemned cell, not even waiting for Whittock's letter of release. Now he sat holding her hand, talking to her quietly, telling her everything that had happened.

Kathryn had lost her calm poise, her air of resigna­tion had crumbled into bitter sobs. She sipped at a cup of wine, refusing a portion of the beef pie Cranston had also ordered from the kitchens.

'Mistress Vestler.' Athelstan put his blackjack down. 'Do you still think you are for a hanging? This is a time for celebration!'

'No, Brother.' Kathryn wiped her eyes. 'This is the time for questions, isn't it? I am sorry, Sir Jack, and you, Brother, for all your trouble.'

'Why?' Sir John asked. 'Just tell us that, Kathryn,

'I loved him,' she began. 'God forgive me, Jack, I loved Ralph Hengan more than life itself, even more than Stephen. I met him before my husband died. He wasn't as fine a man as Stephen, Ralph was secretive, withdrawn, but, Brother, it's as if your heart isn't whole, then you meet someone and it becomes so.'

'You knew he was interested in the treasure?' Athelstan asked.

'Yes and no. Oh, he asked questions, but nothing out of the ordinary. He often came to the Paradise Tree when it was fairly deserted and, on reflection, he was always wandering around. Occasionally, I'd see him talking to Bartholomew but, again, nothing out of the ordinary.' She paused. 'After Stephen's death I actually thought of asking Ralph to marry me, yet he anticipated that. Well.' She raised her head. 'He told me he had no love or liking for womankind. Perhaps he was trying to save me the humiliation of a refusal! I was happy with his friend­ship. I could see that something about Bartholomew agitated him. I didn't inform Ralph that the clerk was trying to buy the Paradise Tree. So,' she shrugged. 'Life went on.'

'And at midsummer?' Athelstan asked.

'Well, on the evening of the twenty-fifth of June, Bartholomew came to the tavern. He was truly sweet on Margot. I didn't really care. Bartholomew was pleasant enough though I always thought Margot was ruled by her pocket rather than her heart. Any­way, Bartholomew was very excited. He and Margot sat in a corner whispering. They said they had to go out.' She shrugged. 'I let them go. It was only after­wards that I realised they had not left by the front or side entrance but through the garden.' She smiled through her tears. 'You've also learned the truth about First Gospel? I wondered if he was up to any villainy.'

She glanced across the taproom. Athelstan could see she was no longer there but retracing her steps on that fateful summer evening.

'Yes, that's right. They had gone out of the back gate through the back garden into Black Meadow. So I went out myself. It was a beautiful evening; the sun was like a fiery red ball and the garden was full of perfume. Strange, isn't it? I stopped to look at the sundial: Stephen was very proud of that. He loved such curiosities.' Kathryn wiped her eyes. 'I went into Black Meadow. The shadows were growing longer. I couldn't believe my eyes. At first I thought two dark pieces of wood were lying beneath the oak tree. I ran across to find Bartholomew and Margot sprawled there. They were dead, terrible expressions on their faces. It was apparent that they had died in agony. One thing I must say to you, little Margot's Book of Hours? She always took it with her. I noticed it was gone while someone had also been through Bartholomew's chancery bag. I did not know what to do. Two corpses, murder victims in my meadow! I was the last to see them alive. I'd discovered their corpses. It was obvious to a simpleton that they had been poisoned and that I would be accused.'

'So you returned to the tavern?' Athelstan asked. 'And told everyone to leave?'

'Yes, of course I did. Later, in the dead of night, I went out. I dug shallow graves and heaved the bodies in. Then I started to think. Black Meadow is not used by customers, it's private land.'

'Did you wonder about your brother the First Gospel?'

Kathryn smiled. 'He's a rogue born and bred, but murder? I did wonder if it was Ralph. The next morning I went down to see the Four Gospels but they could tell me nothing.'

'Of course,' Sir John put in. 'And you found it difficult to suspect our lawyer friend because Master Hengan was supposed to be in Canterbury?'

Kathryn tightened her lips, fought back the tears and nodded.

'I had the oak tree pruned,' she continued, 'to hide any signs. When Ralph returned I watched him closely but I didn't notice anything untoward. I loved him then and I love him now, perhaps that made me blind.'

'But why didn't you say anything?' Athelstan insisted. 'Why not just tell the truth?'

'You are a good friar.' Kathryn took Athelstan's hand and squeezed it. 'But you've also got the mind of a lawyer. You know the reason why. Who would believe me? What real proof did I have? How could I approve someone else like Alice Brokestreet did, lay false allegations? I wasn't sure myself. Was it Ralph? Would my brother be blamed?' She shrugged. 'I left it in God's hands and God replied.' She glanced at Sir John. 'Sir Jack, if you would take me back to the Paradise Tree. I would love to bathe, change and sleep in my own bed. Brother, when I am more fit and merry company, you must be my guest.'

'Will you come?' Sir John asked.

Athelstan shook his head. 'For once, Sir John, let me be the last to leave the tavern, not you!'

The friar watched them go. He sat in the deserted taproom then raised his tankard in a silent salute.

'Whom are you toasting, Brother?'

Athelstan glanced round to see the merry-faced taverner's wife standing in the doorway wiping her hands.

'Why, mistress, I'm toasting love: in all its beauty and all its terror!'