‘Let me try,’ Athelstan replied. ‘My lady?’
‘Yes, I killed my father,’ she replied. ‘To be precise, he was my stepfather. My mother’s first husband, my real father, was killed in the king’s wars in France. At first, all was well. I was an only child. I think my mother regretted her re-marriage, but she died eight years ago. In the main, Sir Henry left me alone. He looked after me. I was spoilt, even pampered. But’ – she began to play with the bracelet on her wrist – ‘as I grew older, he began to take more notice of me. Nothing much at first, just asking me to sit on his knee while he stroked my hair. Sometimes he would touch me in a privy place and say it was our secret.’ Aveline blinked to hold back her tears. ‘I had everything,’ she continued. ‘Or everything except a maid. He wanted it that way. As I grew older his attentions became more demanding. I avoided him, though there were times I could not. On the evening before he died, as he sat at table at the Abbot of Hyde inn, he told me to come to him at first light because he wanted to give me something precious that had belonged to my mother. I should have known.’ Aveline’s lower lip quivered and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘He was filthy!’ she whispered. ‘Obscene! He tried to embrace me, place his hand on my breast. He claimed he had lain awake all night thinking about me. Then-’
Athelstan sensed Ashby’s growing tension. He patted the girl on the wrist.
‘Just tell me,’ he said gently
‘He said he hoped I was as good as my mother and tried to pull me across his lap. As he did so, I saw the hilt of his dagger sticking out from a pile of clothes on a chair. Everything moved so quickly. I grabbed the hilt, the next second the dagger was deep in his chest. He just stared at me as if he couldn’t believe what had happened, then he slumped to the floor. I must have stood for some time just staring down. I thought it was a dream. I kept pinching myself to wake up. It was so clean, so swift, not even a speck of blood on my hands or clothes. I heard a knock on the door-’
‘That was me,’ Ashby interposed quickly. ‘I was in the room next to Sir Henry’s. I heard Aveline go down the passageway and the sound of a faint disturbance, of something falling. I went into Sir Henry’s chamber. Only then did Lady Aveline tell me what had been happening.’
‘I daren’t say anything before,’ the young woman whispered. ‘Who would believe me? I knew Nicholas Ashby and I loved him but I kept everything a secret. Sir Henry would have killed us both.’
‘I just pushed her out of the room,’ Ashby continued. ‘Once she had gone, I tried to pull the knife out, but Marston came, banging on the door.’ Ashby nodded contemptuously down the church. ‘He’s all bluster. He could have stopped me but he just shouted "Murderer! Murderer!". I opened the window and fled.’
Athelstan rose. What Aveline had said did not really shock him. Time and again in confession he had heard the same sin in all its variations – brother and sister, father and daughter. It was the natural result of people living so close together. But who would believe Aveline? Sir Henry had been guilty of what the theologians called ‘the great and secret sin’, incest, much practised but never discussed. In a court of law it would look different. Some might even argue that both Aveline and Ashby were involved in killing Sir Henry for their own private ends. She must have known that Sir Henry would be against any such love match. Ashby had been found red-handed. If he kept quiet he would go to the gallows. If he tried to defend himself Aveline might well join him, pushed there by grasping relatives eager to get their share of Sir Henry’s wealth.
Athelstan stood at the foot of the sanctuary steps, staring at the two anxious, white-faced lovers.
‘Do you have any proof?’ he asked.
‘I thought you might ask that,’ Aveline replied.
Before Athelstan could stop her, she unbuttoned the top of her dress and pulled it down. ‘Only this,’ she said. ‘It came up later.’ And Athelstan glimpsed the purple bruise on her milky-white shoulder.
That’s where Sir Henry gripped me,’ she said, and, free of any embarrassment, pulled the dress back and re-tied the little thongs. ‘Am I guilty of a great sin, Father?’
Athelstan stared at her now-covered shoulder. That bruise could never have been self-inflicted. He believed both she and Ashby were telling the truth. He sketched a blessing in the air.
‘I absolve you,’ he said. ‘Though God knows what I am going to do now.’
‘You could speak for us,’ she said hopefully.
‘Who would believe me?’ Athelstan replied. ‘And what you have told me is bound by the seal of confession. No, no. What I must do is ponder carefully and coolly on a solution to all this. Look, let us leave that for the moment. I wish to question you on other matters. Sir Henry provided monies for Captain Roffel and the ship God’s Bright Light?
Ashby nodded.
‘And you joined the ship in September but left when it docked at Dover?’
‘Yes.’
‘During the voyage did anything happen?’
‘I have told you, Roffel was the same. Dour and secretive, except after taking that fishing smack.’
‘What else do you know about Roffel?’
‘He drank a great deal.’ Ashby smiled bleakly. ‘Not just wine or beer like the rest of us. He drank wine and beer, of course, but he also had a special flask containing a very fiery drink, usquebaugh he called it. Before every voyage he would go ashore and have his flask filled at the Crossed Keys tavern behind a warehouse at Queen’s hithe.’
‘He filled it himself?’
‘Oh, yes, Father. Where Roffel went so did that flask.’
Athelstan smiled as he thought of Cranston’s wineskin. ‘So, no one else was allowed to refill it?’
‘That’s what I said, Father. But we knew he drank from it. Well, not all the crew, but I did. His breath used to smell. He’d take it in very small doses. He once told me it was five times as powerful as any wine and kept him warm at night against the sea chill.’
‘And Roffel was in good spirits at the beginning of the voyage?’
‘Oh, yes. Sir Henry gave me a sealed package to hand to him, but I don’t know what it contained.’
‘Do you, Lady Aveline?’ Athelstan asked.
‘No, no, though my stepfather seemed very pleased with himself.’
Then what?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t really know.’
‘I often took such packages,’ Ashby interrupted. ‘Roffel would read what was in them then toss them into the sea.’
‘Wait!’ Aveline leaned forward. ‘Yes, now I remember. When the God’s Bright Light began its voyage my stepfather was very, very pleased, but when Nicholas returned his temper changed. I heard him say that he didn’t trust Roffel. He claimed the captain was cheating him. He was coming to London to confront Roffel when . . .’ Her voice faded away.
‘Is there anything else?’ Athelstan asked.
She shook her head.
Athelstan crouched down and gripped her hand.
‘You are now your stepfather’s heir,’ he said. ‘Your secret is safe with me and I will think about what I can do. For the moment, however, you should return to the Abbot of Hyde inn. Go through your stepfather’s papers, everything and anything. See if you can find anything that will give some hint, however faint, of the secrets he may have shared with Roffel.’
‘How will that help us?’ she pleaded.
‘God knows!’ Athelstan said. ‘God only knows!’ He genuflected before the altar. ‘You may stay here for a while but, Master Ashby, on no account leave the sanctuary! I have your word on that?’
Ashby nodded just as the church door crashed open and Watkin the dung-collector rushed in.
‘Father! Father! The cart’s arrived!’
Athelstan, breathing heavily and slowly, prayed for patience.
‘Good man, Watkin. Have the other door opened and bring it up into the nave.’
The dung-collector trotted off. The doors opened and, after a great deal of crashing and banging, a huge, four-wheeled cart pulled by Watkin and other parishioners rolled up a makeshift ramp on the steps and into the nave. Athelstan went down to help. His anger at being so rudely disturbed was soon dispelled by the good humour and generosity of his parishioners, who had left their trades to ensure that this cart arrived in time for their mystery play. Panting, shouting, sweating and shouting instructions to each other, the parishioners heaved the cart until it stood in the centre of the nave.